Tag: short story

2/23/21 + short story: time travel romance

EvaLeave a comment

I’ve got like 30 pages of fanfiction and there’s no sex yet. I think I’m doing it wrong. Anyway I think ONLY of time travel. Do not bother me with other thoughts! I’m reading a lot of manga. So far only Yu Yu Hakusho and My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia but the latter is so popular in the digital library that I’m reading them completely out of order. Volume 8 was first, then 6, and 12 is now available. Please don’t spoil either of these stories!

I started reading Haruki Murakami’s “Wind/Pinball” and halfway through I was like “that’s it, I know what I have to do” so I put the book down and have thought about picking it back up the past few days. How fascinating!

There was a novel in the works about a school for psychics but I got stuck writing it because everyone knows what’s on the test and my MC was too powerful but so very boring. You ever write a book and can’t put a plot in because everyone’s too nice? Now I’m into time travel (meme: two astronauts in space, one gazes at the earth and asks “You’re into time travel?” and the other astronaut floats behind him with a gun to the guy’s head and says “always was”) & fanfic and don’t have energy for these psychics!

first draft story about time travel romance – I’m trying to write more casually. Getting caught up in being literary makes my writing stiff.

Since the aftermath of the disastrous party, Lilac couldn’t bring herself to go back to the coffee shop, because he might be there. He looked just like her former unrequited love. Well, just the outfit. Tell me, how does a woman so strong and charming end up chasing after the only men who are most difficult to break through?
Expert Michele Tiery (her expertise is in being a best friend) speculates she’s after The Chase. She’s after the feeling of winning a difficult battle.
Oh, there’s a handsome man who rarely smiles and won’t open up his heart? Well well well! Looks like a job for Lilac Valentine!
Lilac Valentine loves playing games with these men. All she’s after is their pure spirit to leak through, to bubble up to the surface, creating a ripple effect in their lives. And then, like a sexy Nanny McPhee, she leaves. Why stay when the jig is up? Most of them end up being shitty anyway.
A long time ago, however, there was one man who she chased. Caught. And couldn’t let go of.
He was a skilled swordsman, a half human half bird who wore nothing but black and white. Making out was a little troubling, as he had a beak. But that was all right with her.
In the end, Lilac realized the bird man pulled the very same trick on her as she had with so many others. But they fell in love together. They made tea, ate bugs (mostly him), watched television. Tried to build flat pack furniture. And then one day, she accidentally stepped into the future, leaving everyone she ever loved behind.
The future was mostly glass, grass, and ass pottery barns. Not the store, actual barns for pottery.
In this new time, how would Lilac Valentine utilize her skills at cat and mouse romance to force life itself to chase her? For lost time to catch up?
She was out of ideas. How could she flirt with adventure? How could she tell jokes and make the mountains laugh? And most challenging of all. How would she learn to love life itself again?
No love interested her. No man, no woman. No cuties.
She wandered through her new city, her new time. What’s a girl to do when she’s thrust into the far future with no job, no friends, no family? [author’s note: lol burn notice]
Lilac goes for a cup of coffee everyday and writes everything down. Spends her whole day catching up on the last few hundred years of music and culture. And everyday, there’s another regular she runs into. Waves hello most times.
Today she didn’t wave hello. Just a head nod. Catching on that the interactions were getting less personal, he had to do something.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s your name?”
He wore only black and white. What’s this guy’s deal? What is he, some type of minimalist?
“Lilac Valentine. I’m not from around here.”
“I’m Leif. I’m not from around here either.”
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from the future. It’s weird living so far in the past. None of the music I like has been born yet. I guess you could call me an aspiring fan.”
“Oh really? I’m from the past. Everyone I ever loved is dead. And the music I like was written so long ago, nobody remembers it.”
“Wow, we’re really a match huh!” he said with a smile, rubbing the back of his neck, which was free from feathers. “Wanna sit at the same table for coffee tomorrow?”
And so they agreed to meet the next morning. They talked about music, about culture, how much has changed, how weird it is to be the only two time travelers in the city, how the online groups for time travelers are never reliable because the longest ones only live for a hundred years or so.
Life as an accidental time traveler is tricky. Everyone’s moving and going. You never know when someone’s going to stay or leave. Every day could be your last.

The Attack of the Quarantine Karens

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On April 20, 2020, three Karens from different cities in the United States of America banded together. Their mission was to open every non-essential business across America. But their bond went deeper than their selfish need for haircuts. Yes. Though their gray roots sprouted several inches past their usual bleach session, what brought them together was their collective need to scream at anyone who made less money than them. 

The three Karens drove from all across the country to get to Minneapolis, Minnesota. One came from Denver, Colorado. One came from Lansing, Michigan. And the final Karen hailed from Atlanta, Georgia. 

“You liberal scum you leotard hangliding riff raff scallywag yellowbelly mommy yupping gum cock,” They chanted collectively under their breath. “You’ll never tell me what to do. Not ME. My body. MY rights.” They went through this long bizzare phrase until they blushed with fatigue. 

“Governor Tim Walz will not let these ladies get haircuts,” said Lansing Karen, motioning to her surroundings. The streets were empty, save a few cars. 

“Our government is losing its mind,” Atlanta Karen said. “All we need to do is get Trump down here and fix everything.” 

Just then, a popping sound echoed through their empty heads. 

“What is this?” Denver Karen pushed her gooey fingers into her ears.

“It’s like Pop Rocks!” Atlanta Karen screamed. “I only know because my 37 year old son eats them everyday with his breakfast. He’s a strong boy, he really is.” 

“MAKE IT STOP,” Bellowed Lansing Karen, clutching her ears. 

“You cannot make it stop,” came a loud voice from below. The three Karens looked down. At their feet stood an army of 1-inch creatures. There must’ve been a few hundred of them. Their bodies were neon green and smooth. The army took up the same space as two standard-size SUV tires (new tires, like from a lease). 

“Only we can stop it,” said the creature. With that, he snapped his tiny fingers and the popping noise stopped. 

Atlanta Karen put her hands on her hips and narrowed her beady eyes. “And who do you think you are, exactly?” 

“We are the virus,” he replied. “And unfortunately for everyone here, nature is healing.” 

The three Karens signed the cross, turned in a circle and spit. “You can’t say those words here!” 

“My name is Covid,” continued the 1-inch creature. He gestured to his army, “And these are the Chads. We can help you three brave women achieve your goals. You want to dye those roots? Done. You need to pick up some overly-religious birthday cards for your gay niece in a longrunning effort to smack the devil out of her? Done. You want to drink vodka sodas at your favorite tiki bar? Done. All we need is one small favor.” 

The three karens turned to each other in a huddle. All three heads touched, though their hair was sharpened with copious amounts of hairspray and poked each other’s eyes. They finished their muttering and turned to Covid, crossing their arms. 

“We’re going to need to speak to your manager,” They said in unison, turning up their noses. 

Covid furrowed his brows. “That’s obviously me,” he snapped. “I literally just said…nevermind.” 

At this, a seething rage went through all three karens. So strong that their bodies lifted into the air as a single thought raced through them. How dare this tiny neon asparagus head talk to me like this. The tone! 

——————————————————————

Long story short, Chad and the Covids took over the brains of the three Karens, who in turn rounded up an angry mob of dumbasses. They all became infected, millions of people died. Fortunately, most of these deaths were the dumbest and greediest people on the planet. This has positively affected the bell curve of idiocy. Humanity is collectively more intelligent now. 

Once Chad and the Covids succeeded in reducing overpopulation by way of eliminating evildoers (their true goal all along), they sunk back into the Earth and became seeds. Over the next few years, humanity saw a surge of beautifully tall trees pop up all over the world, one by one. 

You want to know about the other people who needlessly died because of the Karens? They were some of the kindest and hardworking people humanity had. Doctors, nurses, grocery store clerks, garbage handlers. Their names are engraved in glass sculptures all over the world. 

Excerpt from Sort of Super Volume 1

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Here’s an excerpt from the beginning of Sort of Super. Randy Bones has just stumbled out of the spaceship onto a new planet and is accosted by an old man claiming to give him superpowers.

“You get four options,” the man began.

Four options? “Isn’t it usually three?” Randy asked the stranger.

The old man snapped, “The number of options depends on which type of people we’re short on.”

“Wha-? There are types? But that means I’m not…” he tried to think of a word that wouldn’t make him sound like a whining schoolboy, but time was running thin. “I’m not special?”

“No. You were chosen from among the earthlings because of your incredible generic-ness. You are average in almost every way.” Delight oozed from the man’s face as he continued, “Average height, average weight, job performance. Even your romantic life is average. You’ve had sex twice in the past year. Honestly I’m quite pleased you’re one of my recruits. What you do excel at, however, is imagination. Your thoughts are almost constantly going to another world. That’s value.”

Randy wanted to cry. He wasn’t special? Someone was reading his mind? How many sexual fantasies did this old man know about? How did he know about his sex life? And hell, he thought working as a daytime receptionist for a music venue was hella cool but whatever!