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May 23, 2005
Michele: Nightswimming
His little legs kicked and kicked and he struggled to get some kind of lift off, but the substance was thick and murky, and he only sunk down further.
What the hell is this? Lentil? Pea? He forgot the color differentiation between the two and futilely wished that he had paid more attention in safety class.
Finally, his repeated kicking attempts pushed him close enough to the edge to feel that safety was in reach.
And then he heard those dreaded words, the last heard words of so many of his fallen brethren:
Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup!
Comments
Posted by: Sekimori at May 23, 2005 06:41 AM · Permalink · Rate It: + / - Current Rating: 0
Posted by: Laurence Simon at May 23, 2005 11:11 AM · Permalink · Rate It: + / - Current Rating: 0
Posted by: JimK (No Relation) at May 23, 2005 01:41 PM · Permalink · Rate It: + / - Current Rating: 0
In light of the current state of affairs in my life, I have to admit I'm feeling an unseemly amount of empathy for the protagonist in this story...
Posted by: MikeR at May 23, 2005 02:22 PM · Permalink · Rate It: + / - Current Rating: 0