Too Soon?

Sometimes I can't control my boundaries. I don't deny that I needed to be in court. One of the first steps in fixing a problem is admitting that there is a problem. At least, that's what they told me the last time I had a mix up with the cops.
I was ready for court. I had done it before, no problem. People will try to say that I was trying to get out of it. The way they say I did it though is so stupid, no one would really do that. Come on.
All I did was try to tell a joke.
The doc's say that I have a condition. Wizteluschuttes or something like that. Anyway, it means that I tell bad jokes at bad times. For example, telling a joke about Ebola in the middle of being asked questions by an, honestly, uptight judge. That man had no sense of humor.
It wasn't my fault. I have a condition. But did the cops see it that way? Hell, no. They treated me like a risk to the public. And because I embarrassed them so much, they said that I said I had Ebola. They're deaf as well as humorless.
Instead of blaming me for something I can't control, maybe you should get me to a doc. I have a condition after all.

Florida Man tries to avoid court appearance by claiming he has Ebola. - Washington Post

Stuck on You

                It’s just a coincidence that today she broke my heart. It has nothing at all to do with me showing up to apologize without any offering.

                Pure coincidence.

                I met Brita my first week at college, and though a lot has changed in the last four years (my major six times, my roommates three), Brita has always been there. We met in the Reitz Union building; she was buying a bag of chocolate chip cookies from a vending machine, and it was love at first sight. Over time, we occasionally argued, and we soon fell into a pattern:

                I would scream, and she would start to cry, then throw a textbook at me (gently, but it always reached me). I would stomp out of the room and she would slam the door behind me. Then, after fifteen minutes, I would knock on her door with a bag of chocolate chip cookies from the vending machine where we first met; the best cookies on campus. We would make up and watch Iron Man 2, and then everything would be back to normal.

                Except today.

                Today, I knocked on her door after the allotted time and tried to open my mouth to explain that I didn’t have cookies because I was down to the very last dollar to my name and the package got stuck on the coil, but she slammed the door in my face before I could say a word. This isn’t how it is supposed to work.

                All my anger at her for intentionally breaking my Taylor Swift vinyl gone, I reflect back on the years we have spent together. I know in my heart that I can’t live without her, and even though I am now flat broke, I will get those cookies for her if it is the very last thing I do.

                I run to the union building, flying past groups of high schoolers on tours and pushing my way through a drum circle. I see them now- the cookies. Really, they’re not so stuck… a gentle push should send them tumbling down to me. Glancing around to make sure nobody is judging too harshly, I sprint to the machine and shove my hand through the slot. The cookies taunt me just millimeters from my fingers. I consider giving up, but thinking of a life without Brita hurt worse than the damage I was doing to my shoulder trying to reach up just a little higher. I decide to stick my head in to give myself more room to reach, and now I have them in my hand- the cookies are mine! Brita will soon be mine! My future is entirely in the palm of my hand!

                My euphoria soon fades as I realize I can’t pull my head back out. I don’t remember how I managed to get this far into the machine, but neither twisting nor pulling is helping me get back out. Students passing by stop to take pictures as I glare. Someone nearby is on the phone with the police describing that everything from my shoulders up is stuck inside a vending machine. I imagine laughter on the other end and dread the headlines that I know will soon be coming to The Independent Florida Alligator:

                Florida Man Rescued from Vending Machine.

Round Up: Week 21

Last Week’s Prompt:

For the group of words, write around them to create a scene, story, or poem:

Bag, Handle, Glass, Date, Black, Walk

Kylie

I finished my story first this week! It's a Christmas miracle!

This week was dark, yeah, but really liked it. Since we had such a specific list of things to include, I wanted to focus pretty heavily on language rather than story, and I wanted to use the list of words in (possibly) unexpected ways. And without the benefit of a chorus of voices telling me whether or not they liked what I wrote, I will hesitantly yet strongly say that I think I did a good job. I really love my language in this one, and I feel like a success.

MY VOTE: Korrin

Amanda

As often happens close to finals week, I was in the midst of an existential crisis when I thought up the idea for the story. I watched Eat, Pray, Love a few weeks ago and decided it was a good enough movie to inspire you to do stupid, spontaneous things. So my character does just that; gets fed up with our society where you work so hard at a job you hate to keep living and working at the job you hate and decided to run off with a disappointingly non-Italian young man.

MY VOTE: Korrin

Korrin

Only one day late! Whoo, this is good.

Going on a date seemed like a normal way to think about the list of words. So that’s what I wrote, except with the twist at the end. I haven’t had the opportunity to write a spy story yet and I was really happy where the story went. For once I actually started the story knowing where it was going. Because I knew what I wanted I was able to be more vague and misleading in the beginning. At least that’s how I think it reads. Maybe I’m predictable.

I also intentionally made sure to not let the reader know who was the good guy. My character murdered a man, but maybe he was a terrible human being. Maybe she was an assassin. It is up to the reader to decide.

MY VOTE: Amanda

Next week’s prompt:

This week, we’re really getting into the spirit of Thanksgiving by writing about something I’m very grateful for: my favorite super being, Florida Man.

Find a news story/headline about the ever-entertaining Florida Man and write the true story behind the headline.

For those who are unaware of Florida Man, simply google the two words “Florida” and “man” next to each other and then read about all the crazy people that get in trouble in Florida. And if you choose a Florida Woman story instead, I won’t be angry.