A Story Contest and Some Back Pain

Well since my back was all like, ha ha I'm fucked up, I found I had some extra time to finally clean up my files instead of saving everything to the desktop and then being all I'll come back to this later. And by 'later' I meant 'never.' Which is when I discovered this.

So like, a long time ago, NPR had a Three Minute Fiction Contest looking for a story, under 600 words that was in the form of a voice mail. They said something about wanting the 'texture of voice' and 'spontaneity and intensity' or some shit. So I entered thinking “I write shit for the internet all the time! How hard could this be? I'll slap on a little drama, a little pathos, a little of that special Holly brand insanity and then BAM! This contest will be in the motherfucking bag.”

Then Scott pointed out that you can't curse on the radio. Not even a little bit.

Well fuck.

Anyway, I wrote down my story and submitted it. And NPR refused to acknowledge my greatness didn't pick my story. So I decided at this point, that they don't get to keep it anymore and I am free to put it up on my blog.

So here goes. This is my story, in 600 words or less in the form of a voice mail message:

Jen, unrequited.

Hey Jen, it's me. I was just calling to say congratulations. He sounds like a lot of fun. I guess I didn't think about what time it would be there. I was just hoping you were happy and I called to tell you that even though we don't talk much well, I'm still your friend. You know that right?

Right?

Okay.

Listen.

Do you remember the time that we found out the mall was unlocked and snuck inside and stole a can of whipped cream from the coffee island and then had to hide under the counter where the trash can was until the janitor came past and then we ran outside and ate it down by the water while watching the lights of the city? Do you?

Or the time that you left all your projects until the last week and then stayed up for almost two days straight and then you thought the masks on your wall were talking to you? And I had to take the last bus to your house and I wasn't allowed to leave or go to sleep because the masks, it turns out, weren't exactly your friends.

You know, I'll never understand why you kept those things.

Do you remember the time that we stayed up all night watching Star Trek and then at dawn you turned to me and told me that you thought Captain Kirk was the hottest Star Fleet captain in the whole world and then I dressed up as him for Halloween that year? Then you got really drunk and we left the party with a bottle and sat under that big oak tree at the end of the street in front of the church and watched the stars fade away and I was so close to kissing you then?

Do you?

Jen?

Okay, this is just like the time I snorted that sugar packet up my nose. Stupid and impulsive and useless and abrasive and it burned for like, two hours and I tasted sugar for two straight days. What I'm trying to say, is that maybe I shouldn't have called you.

I guess, I don't know, I guess what I really wanted to say was- is- goodbye.

Goodbye.

Jen.