Kick My Pixels In The Junk

Come. Battle me. Attempt to pummel and bludgeon Monkeyfinger with your wolves, your knives, your clubs, your Golden Kazoos.

Fight me, and become my pupil.

(No, really, it’s easy.)

(Do it.)

(All the cool kids are doing it.)

(Don’t make me give you the Dutch Uncle.)

3 comments

  • I am having trouble figuring out where to post my entry for the GUN Flash Fiction piece…sooo I thought I would put it here…If I make it in great – If I dont ….my loss…any help you can offer would be great….Thank you

    Author: A. M. Keith
    Flash Fiction: The Last Cold Shot

    SPLASH! He looked up from the lukewarm urine he had been drinking to see the residue of a group of seals dodging through ice and water. That semi-warm thirst-quencher was the result of the first piss he had taken in 32 hours. It had been 204 hours since he had his last conversation. That rather heated exchange was with his least favorite mate, Lugnut, incidentally the only other survivor left on board ship. The cold was his only friend at this point and it surrounded him like an unforgiving damp blanket.
    As he sat there looking at his options, it was clearly limiting. He would have gone below to try and get a break from the cold but there was water there too. The bilge had stopped working some time ago and the water had continued to creep steadily in.
    He was tired. He was cold. He was agitated; it was wearing on him to be this alone. He climbed through the opening of the wheelhouse and slid into a crumpled pile against the cabinet to the aft of the wheel. As he melted hard against the door it shifted. He leaned forward and to the side to see if he could open the door. The cabinet door gave way with a dry screech and he peered at a new found option to get himself out of his slowly sinking fate. It was a gun.
    The small hand gun was lying on the shelf like a haunting singer in a sultry club. It seemed to glow to him like the undiscovered sweet on a high shelf to the small child.
    He reached slowly for the weapon, a weary smile spread through his features. He finally had the solution in his hands. He was not going to waste this chance.
    He lifted it to his mouth and pulled the trigger. “It really didn’t sound all that loud” was his last thought.

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