Being she was extremely bored and felt like doing nothing but writing, the young girl opened a draft in her email to begin a story, and stopped. She had an unread email. Inside the email was a draft of an unfinished story about a girl who opened a draft in her email to begin a story and stopped because she had an unread email. I threw the email into my spam file. Then, I took my computer and dropped it in the bin. I took the bin and tossed it in the dumpster. Then I took the dumpster and shoved into the furthest reaches of my mind; if I couldn't obliterate the dumpster entirely, I could at least trash it metaphorically. But I still couldn't sleep. I paced back and forth across the room. I have to do something. And do it now. I cannot let this stone unturned. I ran to the front door of my apartment and took grab of the knob. My mind went completely blank as I pondered what bedlam & mayhem I would find on the other side of the door. Drawing a blank did not bode well. I bit the bullet. I opened the door. Nothing. No Proud Boys. No riots , only people banging on pots and pans, some dancing, and a few weddings of various sexual preferences right there on the street outside the white house. Donald wiped his upper lip clean of the crusty buildup of mucus and adderall. "Those people out there are losers. Use real bullets. And Kayleigh - announce I've won the election. People will believe you." “YES, SIR!” Kayleigh squealed, “I’ll show them hundreds of huge binders filled with signed affidavits from PROMINENT IMAGINARY FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, each claiming you easily won more times than anyone could ever count." Kayleigh tried to maintain a brave front, but it still bothered her that someone said behind her back, "There goes Barbie. Poor thing."



You must be logged in to comment

You can Log in now or Sign up for a new account