Hello again to you all, my friends, followers and countrywoman/menfolk – gather round the campfire and let me tell you a tale.
While I am waiting to see where a specific story places in this week’s competition, I’ve come up with my own story, based on a Flash Fiction prompt that I fished out of a board game that I own.
The prompt was “Hair of The Dog”, as in the drinking metaphor – of course I had to write about this, who wouldn’t given the opportunity?
So without further ado, I give you today’s story!
*Trumpet fanfare* *Standing ovation* *10, 000 thundering elephants* *Somebody turn the damn National Geographic Channel off!*
Feel free to comment below.
The Healing Process (by David Ellis)
Why is everything so damn foggy? Where are my glasses? Can’t remember what I was reading last night.
Damn cockroaches. I’d flatten them but this place is dirty enough as it is.
My Daddy was a Doctor. Or a fireman. Maybe a newscaster. I don’t know.
The first guess was probably right.
There’s a phrase that keeps on recurring in my mind, might be French or Greek or something – “Similia similibus curantur” – Daddy used to use fancy words a lot, said it meant something about “Like curing like.”
I’ll drink to that.
Poison the well a little more.
Can’t remember when I last ate – might have been a hamburger, I can see the wrapper on the floor.
Can still smell the onions. Are they green? Must be at least a couple of days old. What’s wrong with me? How’d it get so bad my only friend in the world is a bottle of moonshine? But nothing shines in this dump unless it’s swimming in grease.
Another object swims into focus. There are words. A newspaper. Open on the obituaries section.
Oh Lordy, I’ve missed Daddy’s funeral! I’m a terrible son, I know I need to do better, I…..wait, what day is it today? Is it a Tuesday?
I missed his funeral over three years ago.
Guess I have been a little preoccupied lately, what with…..what was it now?
Oh yeah, Lucy Lou dying too.
I loved her. Best darn mutt there ever was.
Bottle’s almost empty now, might as well just be guzzling on tears. Seems everything I hold dear has run its course, expired, left me.
But my sister is coming over today I think – or it may be next week.
Don’t know. Don’t really care.
She’s bringing a suit, has told me to clean my act up.
“Do it for your niece!” She shrieked.
I can barely tie my own shoelaces nowadays.
Maybe I’ll just sleep here for a while.
If they turn up I’ll pretend I’m out.
Wouldn’t be the first time.