Friday Night Drabble Party!
Who’s ready to get their Drabble on?
So, while you are busy reading this, if you are reading it on Friday, which I know you are because you are a faithful, loyal reader that has sprung for the implant… Forget what I just said about the implant. There is no implant. Implants don’t exist. They never have.
Sooooo, how are you?
Okay, I’ve just given up on being subtle.
What was I talking about? Oh, right, what I’m doing while you are reading this. I’ll be at a cabaret fundraiser for Asheville High School’s drama program so a bunch of kids can afford to go to the National Thespian Festival this summer.
SUPPORT THE ARTS, MOTHERFUCKERS!
The NEA should hire me. I’d be very effective.
Anyhoo, if you want to go then just head to AHS by 7pm tonight or Saturday night. Tickets are $20 for adults, $10 for students. There will be desserts and beverages provided. Plus JAZZ HANDS! You should really go.
Now, how about a drabble?
“Come one, come all! See the amazing acts of strength and daring! The world’s most amazing, the world’s greatest, the world’s… Ah, screw it,” Miguel said as he looked out at the empty boardwalk.
The shop next to his Amazing Carnival of Freaks attraction stood empty, Ms. Bessie having packed up and left months ago. No point in sticking around when there weren’t any customers.
Miguel sighed and sat his ass down on the rickety stool by the mirrored entrance to his attraction. He frowned at his reflection, noting the radiation sores that had started to bloom on his skin.
Disclaimer: SUPPORT THE ARTS, MOTHERFUCKERS!