Cluck Cluck Silence

Write one sentence. Then write another without violating the first one. Continue until complete


Okay, this is bullshit. That bullshit situation and why do they do this? To prove themselves. To prove that they’re so hot we’ll do anything for them. Risk the ridicule of their friends for the chance to maybe get somewhere, something, maybe. Women, so fucking bullshit, with their troubles and their needs and their talk talk talk, wine me dine me talk. But so fucking worth it.

Especially this one, eying me, across the bar. Surrounded by friends, Mrs. Motherhen and the Ugly One and it’s all so cliché. Nothing cliché about her though, pretty as can be, and she’s definitely eying me.

Okay, lets do it. Finish your beer and go. Talk to her. Fuck the others, she’s yours, she wants you. Be brave. Walk over. Yes. Her eyes follow, you’re in, she’s yours, closer, across the bar, her eyes locked in, away, back, giving me the signs. Twenty feet, fifteen, ten, she looks away. Playing innocent, I get it, I saw you. Five, three, one.

“Hello,” I say. I’ve never been good with game; hello’s all I got. “Not interested,” says Mrs. Motherhen. Fuck you bitch, I ain’t talking to you. No one is. I smile. Chicks love the smile. “Can I get you a drink?” “I said she’s not interested.” Cluck cluck cluck, that’s all I hear, as I stare at the girl. I’m in, she’s with me, staring back, eye contact, the most powerful connection one can make.

“Cluck cluck cluck why are you still here cluck cluck cluck.” Okay seriously, this bitch, say something lady, get up and lets go, before I smack her. This fucking cunt, ruining my time, my game, which I don’t have much of, and fuck, she’s just sitting there, I don’t get it. “Bartender cluck cluck cluck, this guy is bothering us. Make him leave.” What? Fucking hen, fucking bitch, making eye contact still, just sitting there, not moving, and now I look like an ass, an idiot. Nothing to say, no idea what to do. Fuck, I should just crawl up and die. The bouncer comes and I don’t resist, just walk away, defeated, dead, done.

One look back and there are the three girls, no eye contact, just laughing. Fuck.


Broke At The Magic Mirror

Combine the following into a story: abandoned town, zerbra (zebra spelled wrong), Jack Daniels, broke [at] the magic mirror (the at was actually an ‘a’ crossed out, but I took it to be an at symbol)


It was all she could do to get out of here. This place, this town, hell it was called, at least it should be, where 10pm hits and there’s nothing to do, where everything is closed.

Nothing except her trusty watering hole, The Magic Mirror. For good times, go to The Magic Mirror, nothing else to do in this stupid town.

She slides inside, past the bouncer, and takes her seat at the bar. “Hey Zerbra,” she says. “How’s it goin’?”

“What’re you doing here? Wasn’t yesterday enough?” Zerbra, the bartender, responds.

“Yesterday? What’s yesterday?” she asks.

“Yesterday? Wednesday?” but Zerbra gets no response. “The Jack? You finished that bottle, went home with that trucker from up north.”

“Oh, sounds like fun.” Zerbra serves other customers, he does not respond.

“How ’bout… how ’bout vodka this time,” she asks. “What you got?”

“Nothing. There’s no vodka here.”

“Sure there is. I can see it right there.” She points to some bottles behind the bar.

“Let me clarify. There’s no vodka for you here.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t expecting that, not a drop in her and already she’s cut off. Zerbra, the only one her charm doesn’t work on, the only one who cares about her. “Well then how ’bout-”

“There’s none of that either. Why don’t you go home?”

The girl laughs. “You didn’t let me finish,” she says. “How ’bout you let me play some pool?”

Zerbra eyes her; she’s playing games, playing him. But at least she’s not drinking. “Fine,” he says as he pulls out pool balls and a cue.

“Another one please,” she says, indicating to the cue. “I can’t play by myself.”

“Yes you can,” Zerbra says. “Otherwise you can go home.”

“No way, can’t do that,” she says as she takes her cue and heads to the table, her thin waist and swaying hips catching the attention of everyone in the room.

Zerbra watches too, for different reasons. He watches her rack up and start playing pool. This innocent girl who doesn’t belong, who should be home, asleep, getting ready for school. Oh well, at least she’s not drinking; he’ll make sure of that, it’s just him tonight. She won’t get a single drink.

It doesn’t take long before she’s joined at the table. Two college kids, locals, but she doesn’t know them, although the way they act, she probably should. They play together, the three of them, playing and flirting and what can he do? Zerbra the bartender with patrons to serve, stuck far away in his corner behind the bar. What can he do if they’re all over her, what’s he expect, with her seductive figure and easy demeanor, her flirty ways and sexy air.

And then, one of the guys breaks from their game, leaves the pool table and heads for the bar. “Three beers man. Buds, the good stuff.”

Zerbra looks on with disgust as he produces one beer. “Five bucks.”

“Hey man, you know how to count? I said three.”

“They can order themselves. Five bucks.”

The guy registers this response. He pulls out a five and drops it on the bar, then takes his beer and heads back to the pool table.

“She’s barely eighteen,” Zerbra says as he goes.

The kid stops, turns back. “Old enough old man,” he says as he continues on.

It’s the three again, Zerbra watching as best he can. Watching that they don’t share their drinks, don’t get her drunk. But there’s only so much he can do, him serving customers, making drinks, and then he sees it, the corner of his eye: them trading sips, sharing drinks. Them all over her body, more playing with her than playing pool.

From then on he stops serving them. He can see they are sharing, liquoring her up like he’s not even there. So no more alcohol for them, no more to share, he’ll keep her sober and eventually they’ll leave and then she’ll go home, go to bed.

It works, the college kids grabbing their things, getting ready to go. All it took was no service, being refused and ignored; college kids go where the alcohol is and with no alcohol here, they get up and go. A victory for Zerbra, them leaving, her safe and sober, until… what’s this? She’s packing her things, she’s going with them.

“Charlotte,” Zerbra says, finally stepping in. “Where’re you going?”

“Home, baby. Just like you said.” The guys put their arm around her and the message is clear: back off man, she’s theirs, not his. “Don’t worry, I didn’t drink anything. I’ll remember it all this time.”

With that she leaves, the guys laughing as she walks out with them. Zerbra does nothing, just stands there, watching; he has customers to get to but he doesn’t move, he just stands there watching, the three of them, two guys and that girl, sober as can be and still she goes, out with them, home with them, with guys who’ll treat her like shit, who don’t care about her, don’t care about anything. Not like he does; he just wants her to be safe, to be happy, to be safe at home.

“Hey man. Let’s get some service here!” a patron yells back at the bar. And with that Zerbra comes back to reality, to his job, to his duty. He heads back to the bar and starts serving more drinks; Charlotte is gone, she’s never going home.