"On the Way to Work" - My Brother, the Storyteller

Ciao, Tutti!

I know I haven't written in a while. This is not because nothing has happened in my life. In fact a lot has happened. The Constitutional Law class I have been teaching had its last class a week ago. I am finished with all assignments except the final exams now. My RA was abducted by aliens. I could have easily written about any of these things. But I had a lot of work. Yes, lame excuse, I know, but it's the same excuse you're all using to explain why you don't read my posts.

I kid. I know you read them all so thoroughly that you can find all the spelling errors and everything.

Today I am posting another short fiction, but this time it's not one I wrote. My brother, Joel did. And it's good. It has my endorsement. Then I can get back into writing my novel and putting up missing person signs for my RA.

I really hope you know I'm just kidding. Just thought I'd add that before the Department of Homeland Security raids my dorm.

Where to find the other stories

The other stories are in the archives somewhere along the left-hand side of my blog, intermingled with the pictures I took in Europe and shameless self-promotion.

"Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" is under the post entitled "Sam Fails to Finish a Love Story" (duh) in the month of November.

"The VideoMag Proposal" is under the post entitled The Day Before November in October. It's a long post and the story is near the bottom.

"Cliche Central" is under the post entitled Art Sharing Day in October.

On the Way to Work

On the Way to Work (3 paragraphs only! Super short.)

By Joel Goldsmith

Boing! Boing! The noise resonated in his dream. Boing! Boing! What the hell is that boinging? He shook himself awake. In a smooth groggy motion, he turned to face his alarm clock that showed 6:36 AM. “Boing…boing…boi-“ “Oh shit, it’s almost time for work.” Hastily he rolled out of bed planting his face neatly on the floor. He took out his uniform and began to dress, almost as if enraged. He packed his bag, in which he threw a carton of orange juice for breakfast, a piece of plastic that reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, his medical equipment, and a lone shoe. As he left his Richmond apartment he remembered one last thing. He went back inside and grabbed a roll of toilet paper.

The station had run out of toilet paper the night before and the young fire fighter paramedic knew that his early morning shit was fast approaching. As he piloted his car down to station three, the smelly, bulging mass built and built until a race car track had formed in his mind. He was in a light blue car, revving his engine while adjacent a blackish, brownish, greenish, slimy car was returning the gesture. He rounded the first corner well ahead of his lurking opponent, but as time passed the opposing vehicle moved farther and farther down the track of his bowels. His face turned red with pressure as he tried to subdue his opponent. The race was a dead tie. And then it happened. The Blackish, brownish, greenish, slimy car passed his and won the race all over the inside of his new pants.

And the lone shoe didn’t help him at all….

Fine

I hope you enjoyed it. He says a few people in his class were grossed out, but everyone had some sort of reaction. I would be very surprised if you didn't react to this story in some way. Which means it must be good.

Short post. Short attention span. Short sentences. Short goodbye.

-Sam goldsmith

P.S. It snowed the other day. For two minutes. It wasn't even enough to get excited about, let alone use to make a snowball, take it into class with you, and throw it at the teacher while he's writing on the blackboard. The only time I ever would have done that would probably have been in Mr. Bye's English class in high school, and there was no snow where I went to high school, so I crashed his computer instead. Horay!