Short Fiction Contest
By Anna | November 23, 2009 | 5 Comments
Respond to the prompt below in less than 100 words in the comment section, and you could receive fabulous prizes for your literary merit. Selection of winners is completely arbitrary and has a great deal to do with snark.
“The Man. The Van. The Plan.”
GO!
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5 Responses to “Short Fiction Contest”
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November 23rd, 2009 @ 4:30 pm
Darrell slapped the bumper sticker on the back of the Chevy 10-20 and stood back, grinning. “Gas, Grass or Ass… nobody rides free!” That would do the trick.
When he opened the sliding side door the next morning and saw the young burro carrying two bags of Scott’s Turfbuilder sitting on the mattress in a pile of its own shit, Darrell knew the plan had failed.
November 23rd, 2009 @ 7:30 pm
Ronnie knew they’d never make it out of town, but he’d be damned if that was gonna stop him from trying.
“Bridge on eighth just went down, bro,” Dave called from the passenger’s seat.
“Fuck it, we can go down MLK to sixteenth,” he replied whilst strolling towards the storefront, and grabbed three cases of beer and a ridiculous amount of beef jerky before he reconsidered and exchanged one case of beer for bottled water, and simply walked out of the little gas station store. It’s not like the clerk minded, he was just lying there rotting, anyway.
November 28th, 2009 @ 4:47 pm
Yeah, I had plans once. I had plans of such magnificent badassitude you could talk to bank tellers and they’d think it was a 1000 pound gold brick. The key player in this plan was my ‘94 GM conversion van which look like a 1000 pound gold brick. The plan? to fly of course! I mean, is there a better way to travel? no, and there never will be.
preparations: van…check. remedial math skill for flight calculations…check. emotional stability…fuck it.
It flew! Then got crushed like a fat man standing on a beer can. Never make plans.
November 28th, 2009 @ 11:39 pm
Chuck only ever felt guilt once in his life. Not for fuckin kids, or grannies. Not breakin into churches or burnin flags. Nope. Chuck only felt the bite of guilt once. When he was dumbfuckered enough to park without feedin the meeter and the goddamn pigs got the van. And the girls. Two of em. Fresh, pink an kickin. Never even gave em rope burn.
Spose he’ll just get another van, cook up a new plan cuz lord knows you can’t change a man.
November 28th, 2009 @ 11:55 pm
The van had seen better days since its purchase from the back of a used car lot, but what a better place to break down than Las Vegas. Short on money, food, or just plain luck he had pushed the van behind the local storage locker and set off on foot. If he was going to make any money in sin city quickly, he had to resort to crime and with no family what did he care how serious it was. It was then he met a man whom could solve his problems, and pay him fast, he’d definitely need the money fast to flee from massacre about to happen just a few blocks from the strip.