Sunday, October 30, 2011
A Real Short Story: All Hallows Eve Style!!!
"Where... are.... my meds??!!!" said the old female babyboomer as she walked toward the pharmacy located at Destiny Boulevard and Progress Street. Somehow, the daily cocktail of Prosaic, Thorazine, and Percocet had not quite kicked in yet. But hope lied on the shelves of this shady drug store, nonetheless.
The night steamed up a surprisingly cold mist, as the darkness clouded above the Mexican sky as the celebration of Los Dias de los Muertos, carried on in eagerness. "Just another excuse to get drunk," the traveling companion, her daughter-in-law, spoke to her drug-addled mother-in-law.
She enjoyed that fact. It gave her great satisfaction to know what little hope there was for hubby's mom was nil. At some point, maybe she could pry away some damn money, and damn her lousy kids to a reform school after setting the little brats up. Such was her nature - the sane one on this trip - to think about ways to rid herself of the old baggage of life.
"I'm tired, I need to rest." The old woman almost staggering now, after her recent pill-popping session.
"You know, a little liquor would top you off nicely," the bitch-in-law schemed.
"Oh, you know I can't mix meds with that tequila stuff. Damn Mexicans can't make water." The old lady slightly slurring her speech.
"But, Hellen, you gotta enjoy the trip!" Down went two shots. Then two more. By midnight, a drag race of sorts had taken place.
The race was not won by the younger set, as shortly after midnight, the grandma lugged her greedy daughter down the hill near a canteen that she knew of from a long ago trip. She had pocketed the pills earlier, had been for weeks, and surprised her daughter-in-law.
Now, she could live alone in Mexico with her inheritance safe from the clutches of her family. No one really gave a fuck about the bitchy daughter in law, and even if they did, her body would be a mess soon enough.
And such was the happy ending to be had for the drugged, old, and supposedly, damned...
I'll tell you more when you tell me yours. ;)
Patience, grasshopper. You must use the force. Nothing MacGyver couldn't solve... My fledgling company is DCF Press. It's new, but it has my palm print on it. Take a gander there at Bringin' Gas & Dialin' 9: A Seven Score Addiction to the National Pastime. Writing is just about the only thing one can do to live on permanently - buildings crumble, pictures fade, memories blur, but words can remain visible and understandable long after we pass from this mortal coil. (That's why that Socrates guy still gets play!)So that's my story, and I'll stick to it until I come up with a better lie.