Monday, July 03, 2006

the last 2nd-act joint

this is actually my current flash fiction friday piece, but i'ma also take the opportunity to observe the passing of the children's hour from my life- since the run began, me+jay quickly realised that since we weren't on in act2/scene2, we had enough time to share a joint then lollygag while others onstage melodramaticised and killed themselves and suchlike, before we had to go back on for curtain call. we'da gone home if we could, but it woulda been strange if we didn't return with the cast to bow...so my past few fff's have all been at least partly written/edited @ my dressing station, under the influence, with people breaking off relationships and a man dressed as a woman killing him/herself in the background, and this one'll be the last- at least for now- so i wanted to acknowledge the inspiration...
so, as
jj instructed, here's my piece about:
A Thong
A Gong
A Pair of Tongs
Someone named Wong
A Bong

suzie bent over, and wong smiled his appreciation for the gesture. she knew how to deliver – unobtrusively. she picked up the ice tongs, all delicacy and self-deprecation at her clumsiness, and got back to the task at hand. she wondered @ his insistence on these small details – why did smoke need to be chilled? wasn’t the silky ravaging of the throat with each puff a vital part of the experience?
she leaned over the bong she was filling @ just the right angle to most compliment her figure, already stunning in matching thong+camisole. and unobtrusive.
there was a reason wong always came back.
suzie was a rare talent. a keeper. possibly perfect.
but that was the furthest she could go. possibly perfect, but no better; not perfection. they all had the same limitation, no matter how much potential. they were human.
suzie was destined to fail, eventually. matter of time.
wong rapped his knuckles on the small gong on the end table to his left and she brought him the tray. when it arrived at his eye level, in a swift and seemingly choreographed move he snatched the icepick from the bucket and rose, burying it in her ribcage.

walk good.

2 Comments:

Blogger Writeprocrastinator said...

Nice Suzie, er, story.

That Wong sure can kill a mood, amongst other things...

3:34 pm  
Blogger angel said...

oooooh- nice twist in the tale trini! i LIKE it!

12:12 pm  

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