I Lied--Fuck You too
Yea, I know that the blog is officially over, but I decided to issue a stay of execution. The blog will continue, at least for a little longer until my career as a porn director picks up.
A friend of mine had some interesting story ideas which inspired me, so I decided to share a short story. It is a story from college, or it least the title is from college. It is a work in progress--I still need to make final edits (which for me means a lot of editing) and rewrite the ending.
It weighs in a little under two-three words, not a lot by short story standards but more than enough to break into several parts over the next two weeks. Don't look for actual political or social commentary to start up for a while, I debating starting another site entirely to cover that. I understand if you don't want to read my short story stylings, but I figure it is better to air out my story ideas here than with my little brother.
He had six minutes and fifteen seconds to shower, shave and figure out how to kill his wife. His morning itinerary was exact, making the last to-do on his list a little problematic. Mitchell, like all of his contemporaries, was anything but innovative, he was a creature born of routine and ruled by compulsory habit. Thankfully, his morning regiment only took six minutes to complete. The fifteen seconds not accounted for by the machine were considered incidental, not to mention well within operating morning parameters.
He opted to stab her in the heart with a serrated steak knife—of course, this was not an original idea; Mitchell had simply remembered the money shot of a popular nouveau snuff film. That left him with five seconds to ponder an age old question: Why does belly-button lint smell like curdled milk.