fff#32
testdrivin' a very un-me voice with this flash fiction friday; another new character for the show, so tell me someting, nah...walk good.
fff#32 (pick-a-pronoun)trigger: i/he/she/it/we/they took everything…
she took everything. including the kitchen sink, and tha' just for spite. i mean, who’s take curtainrods? friggin’ curtainrods, hoss?!
i reach home from the people wuk, tu’n my key, push my door, same like every evening 7o’clock after my 2stag with the boys by brooklyn bar. i reach home, tu’n key, push door, step inside…and it dark. you listenin’ me? dark, eh, fadda. i mean, daaark. not a light in any part of the whole house. daaark…
so i click on the lights here now…i click on the lights, studying where the ass she is and wha’ the fuck really goin’ on here and one time throwing an eye round the room for a note. or something. but it have no note. no fuckin’ note, no card, not a fuckin’ ting. not! one! muddacunt! ting leave in the room! floor fuckin’ shining back at me. empty, shinin’, fuckin’ floors, hoss! and hoss, i walk through my whole muddacunt house, i walk through my whole-mudda-cunt-house, and all the bitch eh take is the meat tongs she sister had buy for me after she come by us a day when i cook on the grill out in the yard…meat tongs sitting on the kitchen counter and not a fuckin’ ting else but open cupboard doors watching me with empty shelves…she and she bruddas wuk fast fast…
so with all that, wha’ i really callin’ you for, hoss, is this:
who the fuck you tell i bull maria sister the other day?!
she took everything. including the kitchen sink, and tha' just for spite. i mean, who’s take curtainrods? friggin’ curtainrods, hoss?!
i reach home from the people wuk, tu’n my key, push my door, same like every evening 7o’clock after my 2stag with the boys by brooklyn bar. i reach home, tu’n key, push door, step inside…and it dark. you listenin’ me? dark, eh, fadda. i mean, daaark. not a light in any part of the whole house. daaark…
so i click on the lights here now…i click on the lights, studying where the ass she is and wha’ the fuck really goin’ on here and one time throwing an eye round the room for a note. or something. but it have no note. no fuckin’ note, no card, not a fuckin’ ting. not! one! muddacunt! ting leave in the room! floor fuckin’ shining back at me. empty, shinin’, fuckin’ floors, hoss! and hoss, i walk through my whole muddacunt house, i walk through my whole-mudda-cunt-house, and all the bitch eh take is the meat tongs she sister had buy for me after she come by us a day when i cook on the grill out in the yard…meat tongs sitting on the kitchen counter and not a fuckin’ ting else but open cupboard doors watching me with empty shelves…she and she bruddas wuk fast fast…
so with all that, wha’ i really callin’ you for, hoss, is this:
who the fuck you tell i bull maria sister the other day?!
posted by sweet trini @ 9:21 pm
3 comments
3 Comments:
the un-you voice in this piece sounds great. you leave your beautiful, often poetic literary style behind for this raw exposure. i love dudes flabbergasted, pissed off tone... sounds like that fella need to not be trusting his boys with that serious degree of information. or just keep it in his pants... i personally think woman shoulda took the light bulbs too.
love the piece trini.
i really liked your entry for this....
but it was super difficult for me for some reason... i finally manage to do something with it tho.
http://isharalegreat.blogspot.com/2010/12/flash-fiction-fridays-32-teachers-pet.html
thanks dudes; sorry new trigger late, sooncome...walk good.
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