first person

It was my first day at Gremlin's toy shop. I had always wanted to work with children, so this was a big thing, and even though I was going to have to start at the bottom doing menial and probably humiliating tasks I was really looking forward to it.

I was now sitting in an ancient-looking, clean but dimly-lit wood-panelled room with an antique looking oak desk behind which sat an antique looking oak gentleman in a tweed suit. This contrasted with the public part of the shop, which was trendy and modern, all chrome and glass with the latest gadgets for children everywhere.

“Our little project has come to fruition,” I said. “I think it’s time.”

“I’ll be right over,” she said excitedly, and hung up the phone.

Kim wasn’t fat. Curvy, yes, a little overweight, okay--but as a dancer, well, every line that isn’t straight is considered a detriment. She’d approached me to create a solution that would help her lose weight fast in time for the dance concert. What she didn’t know is that I’d failed spectacularly. Nothing worked, and a handful of lab rats with gastrointestinal distress was hardly a sign of success.

or, “1001 Inflationary Nights”
 

It was a sunny day and I was inside writing my tenth inflation to post on the internet. Once I had finish writing the story, I began to proof read it and when I got to the inflation part I couldn’t believe how bad it was. So I ripped it up and threw it into the trash with my other thousand attempts.