Ooo.. hey, you guys, sorry. I was caught up in a book last night and completely forgot to prepare the 50 word fiction. Ok. so this week’s theme is “ennui” considering I am suffering from it. You don’t have to use the word, just the idea of it. I’ll have to post mine a bit later, as I am already late for work.
Bad bad Jodi
EDITED to add:
The girls leaned out the window of the third floor dorm room, arms outstretched. The water balloons were straining with their cargo and poised for deployment.
“Ready? Ennui! One…. Two…. WHEEEE!”
The fell back onto the bed laughing, as soaking wet sorority girls screamed their annoyance below. Ah, sweet satisfaction.
Answer phones, thatís all I do. Oh, and I file. But once the hebetude sets in, the basket overflows. So I surf and google and glom onto their picture. Did you see that kiss last night? My kingdom for a kiss like that! Ryan Gosling, you make my mouth water!
oooo… “hebetude” … excellent word. You know, I think next week’s theme will be S.A.T. vocabulary words.
The sorority girls couldn’t believe what happened: Those “fun girls” couldn’t get away with this! They stormed up the stairs, passing the room of “cynical girl” who was too absorbed in her ennui to notice the fracas. This time the “fun girls” would pay in the most sapphic ways possible.
She wasn’t sure what this gothic stuff, was, but she knew that she liked the way it looked. She could be like that – black clothes, dark makeup, that look of forboding, in her eyes, she already WAS that! Now all she needed was to make a trip to HOT TOPIC.
ìTakes money, donít it?î
ìWhut?î
ìGettin outta here. Takes cash.î
ìOr a card.î
ìDonít got one a those.î
ìYuh.î
ìWhereíd ya go if ya had it?î
ìWhut?î
ìCash.î
ìDunno. Not here.î
îYuh.î
ìWhereíd ya go?î
îHear them islands is nice.î
îYuh. Any time a year.î
ìTakes money though.î
îDonít it.î
Kids pay good cash to see Carl Connors, the crotchety old coot who croaked on his couch. One day Carl’s boredom peaked until he couldn’t even be bothered to breath. Death by chronic ennui. Now he is stuffed and mounted on his couch for all the paying public to see.
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,
Jack jump over the candlestick.
Jack paused, contemplated his miserable life and asked,
“What the hell? Day in, day out, all I do is jump over this fucking candlestick!”
Clouds broke and a heavenly voice spoke a thunderous response.
“Some damn writer was BORED!”