It’s Not Too Sweet!

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

“Ma’am, that’s a reserved parking space.”

”Something happened to my daughter!”

She pulled into the first space she could find, which, conveniently, was right near the principal’s office. Not ‘conveniently.’ ‘Conveniently’ indicated something trivial. A elevator that was out of order. Some wet paint.

The secretary had called the firm. Could she come to the school immediately? Something to do with Cadence. The first thing that bounced into her mind, like an ugly angry red rubber ball, was that Cadence had some kind of reaction to her medication.

In 9th grade, Cadence was concerned that other kids might find out about her meds. Embarrass her. Call her names. One day, her homeroom teacher called the firm to mention just how proud she was; Cadence had given a speech in front her class about her meds. She explained how important they were and how it wasn’t any different than having something like diabetes or a heart condition. As the homeroom teacher explained it to her over the phone, they both cried. The young girl would grow up to be a strong woman. Maybe another lawyer.

“Wet floor, miss!”

The janitor was a kid, probably a recent graduate of this very school. How could look the students in the face as he mopped up their piss?

“Where is my daughter?”


”Where is the principal’s office?”

”Straight ahead, ma’am.”

She turned off her Blackberry and her iPhone.

The principal’s office, needless to say, had a brown oak door with a faux-brass plaque mounted at eye-level.

The old principal was gone. This new guy had been there for two years. He looked like the magician judge from Night Court.

Cadence sat in a purple leather chair away from the surprising modest desk. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her chin was tucked down towards her chest.

She wrapped her arms around Cadence’s neck and pulled the young girl toward her. Cadence was stiff and reluctant.

“What happened,” she asked Cadence, her voice thin and choked.


The principal tented his fingers.

“Cadence,” he asked softly.


”What is the name of the game you invented?”

”Kick Her In The Blank.”

”How long have you been playing Kick Her In The Blank?”

”Since seventh grade.”

”Who have you been Kicking In The Blank?”


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