Yep! We Live Like That

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Fun Writing – Fictional Short Stories in the First Person

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A few days ago, I was scrolling though the WordPress reader. Looking for some more interesting posts to read. I like to read about cats, pets, art, photos, poetry, homeschooling and writing topics. Material is not short in supply and for that I am thankful. I ran across a short ‘story’ that was so funny to me, that I was crying and laughing. I shared it with my husband. Now I share it with you.

The post is called “Space Invader” and it’s awesome. Turns out, the whole blog is full of Fictional Short Stories that tickled my interest. So much so, that for fun I’m going to write “Semi-Fictional Short Stories in the First Person“. The first SFSSFP I wrote was about my favorite foster kitty Pistachio. That was a blast to practice writing from the cats point of view.

I am more than sure that writing SFSSFP is a craft that’s been around a long time, but I have just found it for myself. Happy for me.

I challenge you to write a SFSSFP today. Maybe walk an hour (in writing) in the shoes of your boss, pet(s), person on the sidewalk, or a teacher. Maybe even take a story you know a little something about and give it your own happy ending. (insert menacing smile here)

The piece below was inspired by the people we bought this house from. I added my own pieces to her story. She keeps hounding us about lost mail. Warning: There are adult themes and assumed language.

The Past Owner of Our House

F**king pills. The damn things run my life. This morning I woke up with my alarm clock yelling at me. And today I didn’t grace this clock with my fingers. Because it woke up my rage. I pushed snooze with my fists. I smashed the thing into millions of pieces. Tiny plastic shards flew everywhere. There you go. You did your job. I’m up.

These f**king pills. Like these things can fix my head. But I’m stuck thinking they will. When my husband said he was leaving me, my soul slipped into bitter apathy. I could feel it go. Every ounce of give-o-f**k was stripped away. It was bad enough that he left me for one of his college students. Talk about an upgrade. He traded in my tiny boobs for a hard chested twenty year old boy. I can just imagine them looking at their rock collections together. F**k rocks. I hope you both choke on dust.

One shot of Whiskey will help the medicine go down. A thought worth smiling about. I keep my pills in my booze cabinet so I can keep my reality straight. Now I’ve got to sell this damn house. The realtor promised these Hill Billies from Texas my sophisticated security. I loved this little home. We sank our money into it and our future was based here. But now it’s all boiled down to “Get the f**k out”. I think I’ll take another shot of Whiskey to start my day. Damn pills don’t do a thing.


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