Writing 101, Day Nineteen: Don’t Stop the Rockin’


Today is a free writing day. Write at least four-hundred words, and once you start typing, don’t stop. No self-editing, no trash-talking, and no second guessing: just go. Bonus points if you tackle an idea you’ve been playing with but think is too silly to post about.

Chuck was a normal guy. He just had a few issue just like every other person. He was actually exceptionally normal compared to the people who walked around him. He didn’t like to acknowledge their existence for too long for fear they might influence his behavior– All that brain washing was contagious you know.

Maybe we should talk about something else.

Today was the day Chuck was being force to go to the library by his mother. She was a devious one and knew exactly how to push his buttons. She was probably some sort of machine with wheels and dials designed by the government for this very task, but Chuck never looked directly at her so he couldn’t exactly be sure. Sometimes he’d throw pieces of bread at her feet in hopes that she’d pick it up. If she did, she’d be at the perfect, height, lighting, and angle for Chuck to catch a glimpse of her without being infected…that is if he looked away quickly enough. He was talented in this and wasn’t worried.

“You’re going to the library.” He heard her say. The monster pulled his hearing aids right out, before shouting it. He felt woozy and strange, the sound of the infected world filtering in. He need the sound of different things chopped up and rubbed down into a white noise. He needed that because it was the only way the government couldn’t get into your mind–his mind.

Instead of replying Chuck hissed and scuttled back in the living room, carefully taking three steps at a time up to his room. His mother didn’t follow him, so he froze. She was a wild card. She would do anything to get her way. When she didn’t run after him…it meant the worst. She’d already done something

“What?” He said, halfway making a question. She was grinning. He’s never seen it, but he could almost feel the air chilling right through his denim jacket.

“I’ve licked a sock…an american flag toe sock, and i’ve hidden it in your room.” Her voice crushed through, clearly, and it hurt Chuck all over. He grabbed his body and crouched over. Socks were the bane of human strife, forever looking for a matching pair, and american flags are the source of baseless nationalism in young adults. He couldn’t stand such a thing, “Unless you come over here, take your hearing aids, kiss your mom goodbye, and go the the Library…i will hide more and more purple socks in your room.” and Purple was sooooo very evil.

Chuck shot up six feet in the air, bound down the stairs, and snatched the hearing aids, careful not to touch her skin. She could have malaria…or might be part poison oak. He snuggly put them back in, the sound of jackhammers and rivers, and groaning, and cats taking the clear air away, just the way he liked it. She handed him a back of stick pretzels and opened the door for him.

Naturally he took the pretzels and climbed out of the window, careful not to land in the bushes. Bushes were a sign of evolutionary subservience… He shouldn’t trust his mother for a second. So he had never go through a hoop she made…and she made many hoops.

[to be continued?]


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