Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Short story to be named later. Maybe "Bad Day"

Since I'm so new at all of this I was looking through other blogs and, low and behold, I found the Writers Den. I perused though some of the authors and what they were doing and there was an opinion that all writers worth their salt should be writing something all the time, especially on their blog. The blog should be more than just a daily diary. It should contain your work. It didn't take long for me to think how much I would like to do this. Show the people out there that I can write and maybe some of them would even like to read my stuff.
Okay enough about that. It was just about 30 minutes ago that all of this was hitting me so I came up with this idea to just write a short story. (Okay, Gracie, don't throw things at me; it was your idea.) Here goes.

There wasn't much left for Ross to do now but pack up what was left and maybe even take off for Mexico. He'd at least start his wanderings in that direction; he couldn't think of a reason to stay. His friends weren't really his friends, and since the failure of the great gamble, no one was talking to him for fear that the bad luck would rub off or that the only thing that made up a man was what he won at. Not his losses. Ross had a hard time with that one. He was made up of both and didn't know of anyone that wasn't.
He had been there for all his buddies, lending them money or time, which ever they needed most, but just trying to collect on what was owed him would take a gun to their heads. He wasn't about to do that yet although the idea had crossed his mind many times in the dead of the night when he was trying to go to sleep on the only thing the ex didn't take in the divorce...his old beat up but comfortable couch.
He didn't have the money to hire a lawyer and for the most part he didn't care one way or the other. He had started out with less than this before. It was just a matter of time before he was back on top. He knew how to make money. It was just hard for him to keep it. If he had known he probably wouldn't be in this predicament now.
He drug his two-seat couch out to his Suburban and hefted it up in the back. He never moved anywhere without it. That was where his dreams came to him. It was his lucky couch although lately he had to twist some things sideways in his mind to consider what had happened that was actually lucky. Well, it wasn't much of a stretch as far as the ex went. All she had wanted him for was a pair of boobs, a nose, some cheek bones, and a butt implant. After all of that had been done she started playing around. He knew it but just really didn't care anymore. She had been gold digger and that was about all there was to her. He hadn't taken the time in the beginning to find out all of the cobwebs that had set up shop in her brain. That was probably lucky but he wasn't sure the four million dollar real estate debacle that crashed when everything else did was lucky at all. He'd have to work a while to get all that back.
Well, here was another piece of luck though. The Suburban started. It's not like it didn't usually but with his run of luck he wasn't going to be surprised at anything any more. He looked back over his shoulder one last time at his beautiful home. He wasn't going to dwell on the bad stuff anymore. It was done and over so now it was time to get on with the rest of his life. He took off with a mild roar of the diesel engine. He had five hundred bucks in his pocket and life was beckoning him on. He turned on the his music and was listening to his favorite CD. Kelly Clarkson. He thought maybe someday he would meet her just for drinks. She looked like someone that he could carry on a good conversation with about anything. She seemed as good with a word as he was. God, why didn't he see that in his ex. The only excuse he had was that he had to have been thinking with his small head, not with the one that mattered. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
"Damn it, shut up, Ross. God haven't you had enough of belittling yourself. You can't be responsible for trusting someone, especially if that someone says one thing and does another."
Oh, God, no. Now he was talking to himself. What in the world is next? Maybe if he'd stop and get a six pack...no, a twelve pack of beer, maybe by the end of it he could think straight again.
He really hadn't thought much about where he was ; he just knew he wanted to go south where is was warm most of the year. He had had enough of the cold damp ugly winters that only offered snow shoveling and skidding and wrecks and just plain chaos. He had been to New Orleans once so maybe he'd at least start out in that direction.
"Because of You" came up and damn if it didn't hit home. He wasn't going to trust anyone from now on out. He was a good looking guy and he could have his fill of one night stands and he wasn't going to let the idiot between his legs rule his world any longer. He'd had enough.
And then just as he was going to belt it all out with Kelly a car T-boned him going ninety-to-nothing. It was one of the few times he had put his seat belt on, and it kept him somewhere around the drivers seat getting pummeled by the air-bag, and then his Suburban started spinning and spinning, then hit a curb, then flipping and rolling until it came to rest upside down in a culvert of sorts.
He shook his head and was glad he had been hit on the passenger side because there was no way he would have lived through that much damage if it had happened on his side. He pushed the bag out of his way and tried to dust some of the powder off. He pushed his seat belt button and let himself drop to the roof. The front window was out and he thought it best with the smell of gas to get out. As he climbed out he was hoping that the other guy had some good insurance. He finally stopped spinning in his head as he touched his feet to the ground. He backed up to the grass to take a good look at what had been the best piece of transportation that he had ever owned. It didn't look so good right at the moment, but probably because of it's size he virtually came out with out a scratch.
The next thing he felt was a man's arm coming around his neck and a gun placed to the side of his head and then he was whirled around to face the gun barrels of four officers of the law. He put up his hands in fear and said, "I give up."
"No you don't, asshole. Put your hands down."
"They're going to shoot me and I'm going to give up before they do!"
"Have you ever heard of a hostage."
"Oh damn, I just thought I was having a bad day."

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