1. Lewdog

    Lewdog Come ova here and give me kisses! Supporter Contributor

    Dec 9, 2012
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    Williamsburg, KY

    Current Contest Flash Fiction Contest #12- "Drunk People"

    Discussion in 'Monthly Flash Fiction Contest Archives' started by Lewdog, Aug 24, 2014.

    The newest and greatest Flash Fiction Contest #11 is "Drunk People" as chosen by previous winner @Garball. Please keep in mind the word limit of 150-450 words. All entries must be posted anonymously in this thread by 6:00 pm EST September 14th (extended to three weeks) and make sure to include the number of words and any warnings. You can also make your entry private simply by clicking more functions before posting, and click the box that makes the post viewable by "Members Only."

    Thanks everyone and good luck!
  2. yoodooright

    yoodooright New Member

    Aug 27, 2014
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    Hatter - 442 Words

    In the sun down past the town proper on the banks of the river which was wide.
    Hatter sat on the beach and watched the river which flowed slow, and he watched the light shimmer. And he drank out of a glass bottle, straight down the gullet. The sun burned.
    And when it got too hot Hatter sheltered in the shade of the Eucalypt until he got frustrated by the falling pollen that got everywhere.

    When Hatter stretched his joints cracked, and his back ached so he tried not to move too much.

    And when the cigarette in his hand was a stub he would light another and wipe the wet stuff from his mouth; the stubble on his chin was rough.
    When Hatter watched the river he thought, and his brain ached so he tried not to think too much.
    But it was hard because it was peaceful and he was drunk and the peace was boring, and so his brain flitted around and pictures and places formed and danced on the river, so he drank more.
    And the sun held high in the cloudless sky and looked down at Hatter and sighed, another one lost.

    When the moon rose and smiled, and the stars came down and reflected on the river.
    That was when Hatter woke, and the drool was down his top and the vodka was gone down the gullet but he was sober. And Hatter was sad; the dancing had stopped and the river was dark except for the stars, and he was not addled.
    The town was asleep and dark in the distance next to the hill which was lonely amongst the plain.
    And Hatter thought of his past and it was dark and he could not see the pictures.
    But he was awake and sober so Hatter walked, back to the town proper, to the centre where the lights were still lit.
    And Hatter cried.
    And the lonely people stopped and stared at Hatter because he was old and a male and he was crying. But he did not care for he was sad and without a care in the world, and when you have no cares you are free.

    On that night the drunk people danced and sang, and woke up the next day with photos and stories to share, and the moon disappeared and the sun rose and everybody moved on, except for Hatter who was living truly and was sad, for he lived outside the box that was cluttered with so much stuff that you cannot think. All Hatter ever did was think and drink.

    And Hatter was alive, and thankful for it.
  3. Jaro

    Jaro Active Member

    Aug 17, 2014
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    Tulsa, OK
    Words to Live By [306 words, mild language]

    As I lay here on this grassy hill, the world is spinning, and I try as hard as my body will let me to grab a hold of something strong enough to keep myself from flinging off the edge of the Earth as I slide just a bit further down. It’s not working. I turn over to let loose the rancid liquid contents of my innards and slide just a bit farther down the hill, hoping the tree I just rolled into has deep roots.

    I ponder how I might make it out of this alive, but my mental facilities aren’t up to the task. I try to sit up, but the sky lurches to the left, solid lines of star-light obscuring my vision as the grass once again caresses my face, and I wrap my arms around the tree, clinging for my life. I hear a voice above me, but when I call for help the only thing that comes from my mouth… well, it tastes really bad.

    “Do you think he’s okay?” a man’s voice asks, “Should we go help him?”

    “Nah, he’s fine,” a second voice says, “he’s got a Black Belt.”

    I can’t laugh through the horror I am feeling, but even in my not-so-lucid state my mind latches on to the most stupid thing I have ever heard. I continue to lay there, the effects of the sinister drink slowly losing the battle over my body. The stars don’t seem to be spinning as much. Perhaps I’ll live after all.

    This experience hasn’t been for nothing, though. I have learned several things through my first heavy drinking experience. First, rum and soda is gross. Second, the tenth one isn’t bad at all. Third, and perhaps the most important of all, my Black Belt totally kicked alcohol’s ass.
  4. Who

    Who Member

    May 11, 2012
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    Hey, Ho, Ho. Now Watch Me Go. [450 words, strong language]

    Larry Tanner pointed toward the row of tables which had yet to be bussed. He walked toward it, two steps forward, one step back, three steps sideways – repeat. He began stacking dishes and wiped crumbs onto the floor.

    Danny turned his face away. He felt like calling Tanner back to them, but the man was sixty years old – he wasn’t a child. Jack urged him on and held his stomach as he laughed at Larry’s antics. Bubba stared, brooding, saying nothing.

    Larry was starting on the third table when the buss boy came running and asked him to have a seat. “Have a seat? That what you’ve been doing? Sitting on your ass? What’s this?”

    “Looks like a ketchup stain.” Said the boy. He looked to be about seventeen, maybe slightly older.

    “Damn right. And, while you’ve been sitting on your ass playing Lazy Birds on your smarkphone this stain’s got hard. You know what hard is?” Larry demonstrated by thrusting his pelvis at the table.

    “I’m doing the best I can, sir. We’re very busy, as you can see.”

    “Do you know who I am?” said Larry. Every word was its own sentence, painfully slow and thoroughly pronounced.

    “No, sir.”

    “Shut your fuckin’ chewer. You know who I am. I’ve headlined this venue more than you’ve learned to count.”

    “The only thing headlining this venue is Tuesday’s special - which is the prime rib, by the way.” The boy turned away and sprayed the table with sanitizer. “Could you have a seat now, sir? I got behind, sometimes you’ve got to chill for a bit with this job. Let it stack up so it’s a challenge. Get your sweat on, you know?”

    “Does Larry Tanner know?”

    “So that’s who you are.”

    “I was gettin’ my sweat on while you were…” Larry hesitated. “You know what? You probably weren’t even swimming ‘round in your Daddy’s ballsack when I ran the wrestling world. Hey, ho, ho. Now watch me go.” Larry began to strut in front of the boy, he smiled.

    “Okay, old man. Have a seat.”

    There was a clatter of plates and cups as the boy fell, knocking over his bucket. Larry had smacked him, full force, across the face and stood over him unbuttoning his shirt. “Do I look decrepit to you, boy? I used to be just like you, thinking I was better. Well, my old man showed me different. Now I’ve showed you.”

    When Larry returned to the table he was greeted with uproarious laughter and a handshake from Jack. Bubba grunted and shook his head but did manage to tell Tanner to re-button his shirt. Danny didn’t say a word. Larry knocked back another shot.
  5. Glasswindows

    Glasswindows Member

    Sep 8, 2014
    Likes Received:
    444 words

    A car was parked in the middle of an empty parking lot. It was past midnight, all the lights were out. The car doors were ajar. Jack was sitting on the drivers seat his legs dagling outside the door, a cigarette in his left hand and a bottle of whisky on his right. Billy was leaning on the car fumbling at an empty pack of cigarettes.

    "I can't do this anymore. I've got a wife and a child, you know what it's like, Jack. There comes a time when a man's got to start earning a living on a decent way." Billy said.

    "There ain't no decent way to make a living. You just either make it or you don't." There was a man on the back seat of about 60 snoring on his back cramped in that space half of his size. Jack leaned over him and managed to find a full bottle of beer among the empty ones.

    "I mean what are you gonna do, Billy? You can't just leave me here. What am I supposed to do, get along with that?" He gave a disgusted glance at the man on the back seat. "You know he ain't nothing, just a bum, he ain't got no guts no more, he may once have been something but times change."

    They were quiet for a while. Then Jack got out of the car, paced back and forth for a while, taking quick frustrated glances at Billy. Then he turned and walked to the woods by side of the road to relieve himself.

    Seeing the back of his old friend disappearing to the woods, Billy took the last look at the man on the back seat, took one more bottle of beer with him to help him through, and started briskly to the opposite direction, glancing back now and then.

    Jack walked slowly back to the car, looking around the place. "What a fucking world." He muttered. He looked up at the car as if remembering its existence, took the last pull out of the bottle and smashed it at the side of the car. He looked up at the sky and started laughing, first quietly, until he couldn't hold it anymore and fell on his knees on the ground and laughed so he could scarcely breath.

    After a while Jack got up again. He went and closed all the doors and the trunk. He sat behind the wheel, thought better of it, went and pulled the old man out of the car, sat back behind the wheel and drove off to the next day, knowing there was never a promise of a better one.

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