Short Short Story

[tinhuviel]

When obie asked his many fans to contribute a short story, I felt compelled to write something, so this is what came of it. Why do I feel that Edward Gorey should illustrate this insanity?

Once upon a time there was this wombat with a limp. He limped about trying to find happiness...to no avail.
One day he came across a gnu who seemed rather distressed.

"Yo, Gnu. Whatzamatta?"
"Well, I'm distressed, dig?"
"O."

Later on, the wombat found a trail of ants toodling along the floor of the desert oasis, found deep within a fertile forest. They had a boom box blaring Dave Matthews' "Ants Marching", which the wombat found oddly appropriate. This almost brought a smile to his lips, but not quite.

As night descended, the wombat found a wee cozy hole and curled up to sleep. He fell straight away into a dream. In the dream, he was slow dancing with Boy George when Linda Tripp asked to cut in. Waking up in a cold sweat, the wombat knew what he must do.

Through the darkness he trotted as quickly as he could. Faster and faster did he run until he reached the great road that all wise beasts avoid. He went out to the middle of the road and lay down, furry arms stretched wide. After a Linda Tripp visitation, there was nothing left for which to live.

A car bore down on him, but didn't hit him. Instead it stopped and out came a young woman with a concerned expression. As she reached down to help the wombat, fear struck him and he bit her hand, running away.

A week later the young woman died of a mysterious infection caused by the wombat bite.

The End.

Comments

[lausa.livejournal.com]

Yes, Edward Gorey, without a doubt! One of my prize possessions is a little stuffed Gorey bat with a red rhinestone for a heart.