Slackin Snarlos
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Joined 06-03-20, id: 1142305, Profile Updated: 06-17-20
Author has written 1 story for General.

Slackin Snarlos

"Sure, why not!" I said, then immediately stuffed my yapping hole with another freshly baked blueberry muffin. "I'll write the frigging profile after I..."

"Now, Mr. Snarlos." She stuck the black bluetooth keyboard in my face.

"But my breakfast is getting co..." Crumbs falling out of my mouth as I protest.


I snapped the keyboard out of her hands and looked at her with a disgruntled look. My eyes said more than words at this stage. No point in arguing with her. I should have learnt that by now. Twenty long years and with two rings on my finger I now tapped the keyboard much harder than I needed. I wrote;

I'm a reluctant Typer with an overclocked i99-biocognitive processor integrated to a infinity gigabyte Ramcard x2 which aggressively threading a Quantum-fantasy-capacitor that might explode in any reality, at any time. My Synthetic Greymatter Direct Drive (SGSD) is so fast it will leave an SSD Drive at the NASA launch pad still searching for ignite.exe while I am out of this Solarsystem a nanosecond later. This drive so large it can store a few alternative Universes of questionable believe-ability and sizes. As I leave our galaxy behind, I ride the Universe in my SolarX Glider much much faster than an ordinary quantum FTL (Faster Than Light) Drive ever can with my DTTM-PD (Faster Than Thought Meta-Physical Drive ). With that I can travel to any galaxy in mere seconds. But that is only if I can get away from Netflix or the books that I like to read over a cup of hot chocolate. Mostly I end up thinking, and sometimes when the solar storms are blowing in the right direction, I even muster up energy to type, but only when I want too. As you might have figured out, I do not like to be told what to do.

Finished!" I said, and sent the keyboard sliding hard across the large kitchen table, nearly knocking over the toaster.

She raised one eyebrow and said, "Somebody has to make you write and that somebody is me. I will not listen to you complaining about other peoples stories one more day until you write a few yourself, 'Mr, I could write better manure myself.' She poured some black coffee up to the halfway mark in my cup, then slid it across towards my side of the table. "By tonight I want a short story about a man whom is too full of himself. You hear?"

"Won't be hard. The world is full of them," I said, then took a sip of the tarmac coffee while eyeing the last muffin resting lonely on the plate at the other end of the table."

"Maybe you won't have to search the world for them. Look closer," she said, then slammed the door behind her as she left. Seconds later the engine roared in the driveway. Now it was just me and my thoughts. What could possibly go wrong? On the other side of the table rested the plate, now empty. I bit my lip, then said, " Motherf..m...uffin."

The Wife At The Hunters Bar Short story
Dark short story. A young woman deals with her anger in a cathartic way; alcohol and violence. Short story told in second person then at the end over to first person narrator. 325 words.
Fiction: General - Rated: M - English - Drama - Chapters: 1 - Words: 324 - Published: 6/14/2020