Satire

Walking on Eggshells
I was always careful not to upset my roommate. He was a genius, but very quick to anger. I got him a gift card for a massage for his birthday. “Why? Do I look like I need to relax?” He asked. Oh crud, he was angry. “Honestly, yes. Please don’t be mad,” I begged. “We’ll, thank you. I appreciate your honesty,” he said. Now we go for weekly massages together. It was all fun and games, until the spa exploded from a gas leak. Now we go hiking through the woods to relax.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
Karen Vs. Karen
I complained to the captain of the cruise that he wasn’t sailing right. I complained to management that there weren’t enough caviar crackers. I complained to the chef that everything was undercooked. I complained to the waiter that the service was to slow. And I told all the customers they were to noisy and to go back to where they came from, even though I had no idea. I called them all idiots. A woman came up to me and told me to shut up, and when I didn’t she threw me off the boat. Her name was Karen, too!
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
Microfiction Obsession
Hi, I’m a writer. My pen name is Alex McGee. I’m currently writing for a competition called microfiction magic. I keep writing and submitting miniature stories of all sorts. I keep coming up with new ideas, better ideas. I can’t stop writing. My fingers are about to explode from all the typing I’m doing. Hi this is Alex’s stenographer, Leslie Typist. I was hired to inform you that Alex’s fingers exploded from over use on the keyboard. I’ll be typing all of his stories from now on as he dictates until his fingers regrow. Thank you. Have a nice day.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
The Neighbors
I knew I looked haggard, but the cruelty the neighbors showed was unnecessary. They’d call me names like ugly and witch. When I stayed inside they’d throw things at my house like eggs and rocks. I called the police but had no evidence. I was going to change things. I pretended to sell my house and invited everyone to a block party for the new neighbor. I hired a makeup artist to make me look younger. They all ate the dessert I made. I smiled as they foamed at the mouth. Now they’re all going to die from poison pie.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
The Wisping Wind
Paul laid on the beach thinking to himself, “They say the perfect beach experience doesn’t exist. But it does. Lounging here, the sun warming my body. The waves bringing in the cool ocean breeze, as it blows the hair on my back from side to side with each roll of the tide. The closest I’ve come to liking a warm clime. Perhaps this was the best time. A turning point. One can only hope.” Turning back over to read his book, he continued to enjoy the first bit of joy he’d had in months.
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Fiction
Rubatosis - the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat
Blue-gray light streams through the open window. The pale breeze floats the silky curtains into the room, papers slightly lifting off the desk before settling back into their place. Freshly shaven legs entwine the soft blankets, covering sections of limbs, leaving others open to the air; small arm hairs stand upright like little toy soldiers, a result of the airy chill. Deep vermillion socks scrunch messily around narrow ankles, barely poking out from beneath the warmth. Velvet hair loosely covering the pillows, slowly drying from a previous shower. In the background, a noise arises from the deep hollows of her chest: a small beat. Another. Another. Heavy thumping, caged within xylophone bones echoing around waxy ear canals. A childhood drum-set symphony playing a soundtrack to empty nights; where instead of laughter the only sound is a human organ dribbling a basketball on newly laminated floors. Beats of endless dripping faucets fill the hollow weights pressing down on flimsy chest plates. The normally comforting pulse of the vascular system drowns in unsettlement.
By Ady Evans3 years ago in Fiction
Caffeine Addiction
Perhaps I shouldn’t have drank that last bit, perhaps I should have used a mug instead of chugging straight from the pot. Perched upon a rock hard mattress, swimming in fluffy blankets and a mountain of pillows my nerves dance to the macarena, provoking my hands to shudder at a violent rate. Blood now deep smoky brown, swimming with creamers and granulated sugars pumping legal drugs through comatose veins. Meth would be more efficient but difficult to get a hold of, and more lethal. Wide eyes lined with deep purple bags, too lazy to hide them beneath drugstore concealers and too addicted to sleep them away.
By Ady Evans3 years ago in Fiction
The Vampire and The Desk
Is it still in fashion? Where would I keep it? It's two hundred years old at this point, older than my daughter. A thick layer of dust and a single slash through the aged but sturdy cardboard from the last time I pulled it out. A large mahogany desk from back when I was going to setup a painting studio, and I know how that went. The stone walls were covered in black mold and oozing green. No one came down to this place in forever, except for that one brave adventurer I locked down here and forgot about. His skeleton casually lying in a corner. A beer and a book would make him more aesthetic. The roof was dripping, and the small window slits provided a nice breeze from the moonlit night. Truly a wonderful place to setup a painting studio, I spent countless hours thinking about it. Ended up burning up the local town instead; better to paint the world red than paper. Human skin is a more interesting canvas. Yet still, I feel bad for having had this desk for so long and it still not being built.
By Hayden N Bell3 years ago in Fiction
The Blooming Bones
Sun shines through the spaces between leaves in the canopy above the overgrown grave. Grass and moss seeping into the cracked concrete, pulling and pushing the man-made stone apart. Humanity had ended centuries before, the last skeleton now a garden of bumblebees and roses. Thorns scratch at the bones, frail and sun-bleached, broken and cracked from years residing in the grove covered with trees. Small beams of tinted light bounce from smooth stones, reflecting into the pool of petals. The flesh and muscle rotted and slinked into the ground, as if the flesh had taught itself to walk without bones.
By Ady Evans3 years ago in Fiction
Funky Little Death Omen
Chilly winds brush gently across numb skin. Hairs freezing to tiny icicles as the temperatures drop and shivers born from the inherent desire to be warm travels throughout my body. I really should have waited twenty minutes for a damn ride home. Exams failed, assignments nearly ripped to shreds in the midst of an emotional breakdown, coffee spilled, and breakfast and lunch skipped. This day really can’t get much worse. As the dulled sun slinks behind a hefty cloud the world seems to grow even colder and the impossibility to hide deeper in my coat becomes more apparent. As small white flurries fly into my stalking figure a singular black bird glides down from his perch on a power pole, a large piece of what looks like bread protrudes from his beak nearly slipping when he lands roughly on the frozen ground. Rotten pea-like eyes stare steadily through my coat and into the core of my being. Comforting in a Micheal Jackson’s “Thriller” sort of way. Fluttering feathers float around the crow with much simulance to a closing curtain on a stage. Then, he was gone. Completely obscured from view and when the feathers landed softly on the dead ground the crow ceased to remain there, the maybe-bread replacing the spot where his wiry feet had been moments before.
By Ady Evans3 years ago in Fiction
The Conversation
U:"Only 100 words. Can you believe it?" I:"That's not very much" U:"I know! What are we gonna say?" I:"Something of importance?"
By Shawn Lowry3 years ago in Fiction
The Soda Machine
I put the money in the machine. Nothing came out so I kicked it. A new brand of soda came out, McKewls. I excitedly opened the can. The first sip was so fantastic I could feel my brain buzz. I could now move things with my mind, had super strength, and could teleport. Every night, I’d drink a McKewls soda and go out to fight crime. I was now Soda Man. I absolutely loved my new soda fueled super powers. The only super villain I couldn’t catch was Can Crusher, who also drank McKewls soda. Our powers were equally matched.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction