Thursday, July 29, 2004
Well, this was going to be my first entry into 5 Minute Stories: Another project I need to waste some time on instead of writing the novel.
Then I realized that the site was last updated on 16 May. So I guess I won't be doing it every week, because apparently it doesn't exist anymore. Alas. Whatever. Here's the entry. (Pff.. I'll just start my own.)
I woke up to find my hands and shirt coated in a thick, sticky pink substance. I sniffed it lightly and -- sure, why not -- strawberry. Timidly, I tasted it. Frosting.
Why? Where had I been? My head was clear; I hadn't been drinking. I glanced around the place. Same old basement pad. Parents upstairs? Yeah, I could hear Bill O'Reilly telling someone to shut up. Dad was watching "The News". Mom doing a crossword, probably.
Frosting.. Frosting. Nope, nothing was coming to me. I got up and went to the germ-encrusted tub that passed for a sink down here. But do you just wash frosting off? And that much of it? I inadvertently smeared some on the tap nozzle. Seemed like you're supposed to eat it; lick it off, like a kid with egg beaters.
As the water rushed away, I just sorta stood there, gawking at my pink hands.
MadWomen for Peace (incl. Diane)