And The Story

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The four of us gravitated toward the corner farthest away from the stranger that stepped onto the elevator. Us four like the merry Hobbits of Wiltshire, bonded with laughter. He smiled vaguely at each one of us in turn- three men and me, we returned none of acting. The elevator halted to the next floor, signaling another passenger. The doors opened and before the mother of three could distract her children long enough to get them inside the shaft- the stranger muttered
"Sorry, all full" and hurriedly smacked the close button with his palm.
When it was clear he pulled the emergency stop and we froze in midst of floors eleven and twelve.
"I'll make you a deal," he said pulling the .45 out of his blazer pocket, "Give me the girl and everyone lives."
Just like that, they shoved me forward- sacrificing my life as a lamb to some random vagabond. In an instance of brilliance, I used my Bulimic practices on the spot and disgusted the man so greatly that the cocked gun was dropped, the bullet ricocheted off an advertisement for male enhancement, and ironically shot through the frightened stranger straight through the zipper of his pants.
And that, my friend, is why the mayor had to adopt his son.




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Um... ok? I don't get it. Again, this is too short to be interesting. This is a good starting point, but where does it go? What is it for?
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It was just a quick think that I thought was a bit funny, that's all.
I was bored!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




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Very amusing flash-sort-of-fiction. :D

Ah, I'd double space between paragraphs and check the punctuation really quick - that's all. Might make it a bit more readable. But brilliant on the morbid sense of humor meter.
ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem

"There is adventure in simply being among those we love, and among the things we love -- and beauty, too."
-Lloyd Alexander



Turn your demons into art, your shadow into a friend, your fear into fuel, your failures into teachers, your weaknesses into reasons to keep fighting. Don’t waste your pain. Recycle your heart.
— Andréa Balt