100 Words
100 word stories. A quick fix for your eyes.
Housebroken
“It’s nothing,” I said.
She looked at me. Worried.
Blood dripped in my eye.
“I’m fine,” I said wiping my brow. “It was an accident.”
My forehead burned.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Who? Your father?” I laughed. “He didn’t do this.”
I heard the familiar jingle coming down the hall.
Oh no, his dinner!
He sauntered into the kitchen, eyeing me. He didn’t say a thing. He just sat down quietly at his empty bowl then stared at me.
Fearing another encounter like the one I just had over his box, I quickly filled his bowl with kibble.
She looked at me. Worried.
Blood dripped in my eye.
“I’m fine,” I said wiping my brow. “It was an accident.”
My forehead burned.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Who? Your father?” I laughed. “He didn’t do this.”
I heard the familiar jingle coming down the hall.
Oh no, his dinner!
He sauntered into the kitchen, eyeing me. He didn’t say a thing. He just sat down quietly at his empty bowl then stared at me.
Fearing another encounter like the one I just had over his box, I quickly filled his bowl with kibble.
No Strings Attached
“Don’t pull on it,” he said.
I could never help myself.
I gently tugged on the string.
“Don’t!” He slapped my hand away.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly.
I just can’t keep things in.
“I want out,” I replied.
It looked like a fuse. I reached for my lighter.
“Are you crazy?” he asked.
I couldn’t answer that.
“C’mon, keep it together,” he pleaded.
I laid back and tried to forget that I was there.
But I didn’t want to be attached anymore.
When he turned away, I quickly yanked on it.
The slit on my wrist re-opened.
Tight Lipped
I pick up a stick and hurl it as far as I can.
It soars through the air then lands about ten feet away.
“He doesn’t want to play ball with you,” mom said.
“Well he can’t just play those damn video games all day!” Pop replied.
He dragged my sorry ass outside and threw the ball at me.
“What the hell’s the matter with you, Boy?”
I kept my mouth shut.
Even though it hurt.
I kick a rock. It rolls a few times then stops.
“Your Daddy won’t believe you,” Mr. Decker had said.
I start running but quickly tire.
What’s the point?
I can never get away.
It soars through the air then lands about ten feet away.
“He doesn’t want to play ball with you,” mom said.
“Well he can’t just play those damn video games all day!” Pop replied.
He dragged my sorry ass outside and threw the ball at me.
“What the hell’s the matter with you, Boy?”
I kept my mouth shut.
Even though it hurt.
I kick a rock. It rolls a few times then stops.
“Your Daddy won’t believe you,” Mr. Decker had said.
I start running but quickly tire.
What’s the point?
I can never get away.
Working Model
“Take your foot off,” he said.
I slowly removed it.
I always do what he says.
Like a dummy.
He took it from me and set it on the floor.
All I had on was this stupid gown.
“Why do you take everything from me? First my clothes, now my foot? What next?” I asked.
He laughed.
I shivered.
Ever since the explosion, doctors have been putting me back together and taking me apart.
“Now give me your hand.”
I slowly removed it.
I always do what he says.
Like a dummy.
He took it from me and set it on the floor.
All I had on was this stupid gown.
“Why do you take everything from me? First my clothes, now my foot? What next?” I asked.
He laughed.
I shivered.
Ever since the explosion, doctors have been putting me back together and taking me apart.
“Now give me your hand.”
Falling Out
It’s summer again. Time for a new pair of boots so I can forget her.
She never should’ve fell for me. I told her that I wanted to show her the ropes. It’s not my fault that she had to go and get all tangled up.
I told her that I didn’t want to be tied down. She just couldn’t understand.
I tried to get through that thick skull of hers.
She was so hard headed.
It crushed her.
Pushed her over the edge.
I had to leave. Distance myself.
From all that yelling and screaming.
She never should’ve fell for me. I told her that I wanted to show her the ropes. It’s not my fault that she had to go and get all tangled up.
I told her that I didn’t want to be tied down. She just couldn’t understand.
I tried to get through that thick skull of hers.
She was so hard headed.
It crushed her.
Pushed her over the edge.
I had to leave. Distance myself.
From all that yelling and screaming.
Barley Sluggish
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
I burped.
He spotted the beer can in the dirt.
“It’s not mine,” I said instinctively.
He picked it up, slowly.
The ground was dizzy.
“It’s still cold. And full,” he said swishing it around.
“Wait…” I said.
He glared and me then downed it.
Beer spilled onto his beard.
He crushed the empty can in his hand and belched.
I laughed.
He drank the slug.
I knew he would.
“If you steal my beer again kid, you’d better damned well drink it. Now grab your teddy bear and get back inside.”
I burped.
He spotted the beer can in the dirt.
“It’s not mine,” I said instinctively.
He picked it up, slowly.
The ground was dizzy.
“It’s still cold. And full,” he said swishing it around.
“Wait…” I said.
He glared and me then downed it.
Beer spilled onto his beard.
He crushed the empty can in his hand and belched.
I laughed.
He drank the slug.
I knew he would.
“If you steal my beer again kid, you’d better damned well drink it. Now grab your teddy bear and get back inside.”
Like Danny
I’ve never liked people. They disgust me. Shove things in and shit things out.
I watch him. He’s different. He wipes the crumbs from his mouth. He would never make a sound from his butt. Like Danny.
He would never lay there and fall apart. Like Danny.
I would take care of him and wipe the crumbs. From his butt. While he lays there. Alive.
“I love you,” he’d say.
Not, “Let me go,” like Danny.
And when he starts to slip, I would nurse him back again.
I would want to. Because he wouldn’t cry.
Like Danny.
I watch him. He’s different. He wipes the crumbs from his mouth. He would never make a sound from his butt. Like Danny.
He would never lay there and fall apart. Like Danny.
I would take care of him and wipe the crumbs. From his butt. While he lays there. Alive.
“I love you,” he’d say.
Not, “Let me go,” like Danny.
And when he starts to slip, I would nurse him back again.
I would want to. Because he wouldn’t cry.
Like Danny.