Fri 19 Feb 2010
Twenty Minute Stories Part 61
Posted by Story Club under Twenty Minute Stories
My friends and I are in an on-again/off-again writing club where the rules are simple. Every two weeks you have to submit three short stories that it took you 20 minutes or less to write. These are the results.
Pristine wore drab green high heel galoshes to work. Thick squarish heels like makeshift table legs. High fashion heels with mud on them–the exact sentence fragment she’d used to describe herself on her FIT application.
She slung hushpuppies and jalapeno poppers at Mustang Sally’s near The Garden three days a week. She loved basketball, played in college but her neck and legs weren’t thick and while she munched plenty of rug in her playing days, it was because she wanted to, not because she was a lesbian.
Nowadays she goes to the occasional Knicks game with customers. She always claims the away team as her hometown and screams invective at the Knicks every chance she gets. When the surrounding crowd lays into her, she stands up and turns back and forth at the waist like a politician, addressing the crowd with both middle fingers raised. The customers never asked her out again and usually started eating at Mustang Barry’s two doors down.
Some guys claimed not to care, but when she did the exact same thing the next game, they’d lose patience. No one ever made it past two games. “I thought you were from
She drank Bloody Marys her entire shift, popped olives like painkillers. She was the kind of woman who ate giant steaks so she could take giant shits but somehow still seemed feminine at the same time.
She’d been going to FIT for seven years and loved having witty fags for friends. She was happiest spending hours in Mood, stroking reams of fabric she couldn’t afford, before going to the sale bin and buying odd samples shaped like floor plans.
She couldn’t hand sew with a gun to her head. Her machine work was amateur at best. But she knew colors. She took a class a semester, a pace that put her degree off another 3 years. In the meantime there was Sally’s and its memorized, paced path among the booths.
