Flash Fictions
Jump on the Band Wagon
I'm a dork. I think I was born that way. I've heard it was a twist in the birth canal, and the ice tongs that caused it. All my clothes have a slightly odd tint and smell to them, except for one pair of socks I have, which are, frankly, pretty darn nice. A doctor once told me, I asked her to repeat it, but of course she wouldn't, that there was medication I could take for being a dork. She said that along with the pills, I'd need two forks of different lengths and genders, and a box of thumbtacks. She said that contrary to popular misconceptions, the first and third laws of thermodynamics, and a subscription to Fun with Guns and Weedeaters magazine, pain, boredom and success are great friends. Well, sometimes pain and boredom fight, but that's not important now is it.
Raising rabbits is not easy. No, no it's really not. If you get scared, e-mail me and I'll calm you down. Things being what things being.
