One Two Fuzzy Suit

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.

Mrs. Anaheim’s third grade students were required to wear cumbersome ‘bear cub’ costumes for the duration of the day. The reasons for this were twofold: Mrs. Anaheim adored children in fuzzy suits; the outfits were unbearably warm, so the children had very little energy to misbehave.

One morning, Timmy, a lovable little bear cub, raised his paw.

“Yes, Timmy?” said Mrs. Anaheim.

“What the fuck is up with the fuzzy suits?” asked Timmy, his normally perky ears damp with sweat.

“My husband had a stroke, so he’s always the center of attention, now. This is my way of quietly exacting revenge on a world that failed to acknowledge my talents,” she answered.

“What talents?” asked Timmy, sweat flicking off his lip.

“I used to be a dancer. Don’t look at my feet.”

Height

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.

They began leaving notes under the windshield wipers of my car, explaining how we had to cease being friends. This lasted for about a week.

Her notes were terse, written on vellum, tucked into small, fussy envelopes.

His were written on the back of green Papa Gino’s flyers.

Freight

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.

She told me all about how Carl had been abused; and how he had become abusive. I listened all night, and told her she had to get away from Carl. Carl couldn’t change.

The next day she got back together with Carl.

The day after that, she told Carl about all the ‘toxic stuff’ I had said about him.

At the beginning of the next week, Carl started shit with me at Orpheum while she looked on. I punched Carl in the nose, and he started crying and so did she.

We didn’t talk much after that.

Weight

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.

She called me at 3:15 in the morning to tell me that we could not be friends anymore, on account of “my behavior had become too toxic.”

She was calling on behalf of her husband.

Death March

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.

Man, those are some ugly leotards. Hell, they’ll probably lose points for the leotards, themselves. I wonder who did their routine. Did that person pick out the leotards? I thought the little black symbols were swastikas, at first. Turns out they were The Ace Of Clubs. I guess they’re dressed up as a deck of cards. Not nearly 52 people.

I have to go put on my zebra head.

The Three Harmonicas

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.

The Jumpin’ Hot Devils had three harmonica players. None of the harmonicas were in the same key, and all three musicians insisted on playing at the same time. This caused a dull, yet irritating cloud of noise to form between the band and the audience. After a while, those in the audience in the crowd who managed to endure the sound would realize that the bass player and drummer were actually quite talented.

Their trademark song, a version of “Tail Dragger,” was so horrendously loud and dissonant that it resembled an aggressive art piece more than a beloved blues staple. The harmonica players would should obscenities at each other while stepping on top of each others’ solos. By the end of the set, each would be wheezing, eye bulging.

They couldn’t compare with The YordBords, however, who had a guy with a bassoon.

Charcoal

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.

“Dad says Disneyworld is overrated. He says it’s consumer trash for people who don’t know any better. He says we’d be better off going camping in Canada.”

“Your dad used to love Disneyworld.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He shat himself in Space Mountain and they had to take him away in an ambulance. Since then, he’s hated Disneyworld.”

“Like, he fucked up and it’s their fault?”

“That’s your dad.”