Saturday, June 16, 2012

"Blown To Smithereens," "Eucalyptus Johnston," And "I Won A Cow": Three Drabbles

One of my favorite writers, Stephen King, has a "pet name" for his faithful fans: "Constant Reader."  If you bothered to click on this link to read these drabbles (my fiction posts never rank among my most popular ones, statistically speaking), THANK YOU VERY MUCH!  You are one of my "constant readers," and for you – as well as for myself  – I will keep on writing fiction whenever the inspiration strikes me, whether it's widely read or not.  Hope you'll enjoy reading these 100-word short-shorts...  ~  JPH


I didn't hear the bomb go off. I wake up, groggy and more than a little hungry, and find myself here – wherever "here" is. I stumble to my feet and take a few hesitant steps down a dirt path that looks like it could have been a well-traveled road in the not-so-distant past. There are no trees around. No grass either. Just barren, rocky soil. There's a sign up ahead. It welcomes me. But to where? It's finally within view now. "Welcome To Smithereens – The End Of The Line." Great! Just as I feared. I am dead.


Eucalyptus Johnston is one of those people you hate to run into at the supermarket. It always starts off innocently enough. She says, "Hey! How’re you doing?" And you reply, "Good. How’re you?" Then Eucalyptus begins – in agonizing detail – to relay exactly how she’s doing, not just today, but how she’s been doing for the past six months, and also how well (or how poorly) she expects to be doing in the immediate future. Well, I saw Eucalyptus Johnston yesterday, and, boy, I got her goat! She said, "Hey! How're you?" I said, "None of your business!" And walked away.


Got a phone call this morning. Said I’d won a contest. I asked, "Which one?" (I’m currently entered in 46 separate contests.) Apparently I’d won the grand prize in the American Dairy Farmers’ Association’s raffle. I remembered entering but couldn’t recollect what the prize was. I asked. Fella said, "A cow." I said, "A what?" He said, "A genuine moo cow." I said, "What am I gonna do with a moo cow? I live on the third floor!" Fella said, "Not my problem. The cow is yours." I gotta pick Betsie up tomorrow. Mind if I borrow your cattle trailer?

No comments:

Post a Comment