here’s a very small story i wrote for my fiction class today. the assignment was write something informed by an art movement. obviously i picked futurism, the toughest of all movements. this story has some true things in it (hayden sweet is an awesome name, for example, and i know someone with that name and once i was at her house on 4th of july) and also an idea i stole completely from mysterious skin. but that’s just in case you are curious. it isn’t really relevant to anything.
On the 4th of July I sat outside Hayden Sweet’s house and blew democracy’s mind by smoking five cigarettes at one time. My brother’s girlfriend asked if it wasn’t sort of dangerous to smoke at all let alone five cigarettes at one time but I flicked some ash into her face and told my brother to bring out the bottle rockets.
He looked unsure but I said, “Are you a woman, kid?” and he ran off.
I took the beer his girlfriend was drinking from her hands as she stood there staring and I drank the whole thing in one gulp and slammed it down onto the pavement. A shard of glass flew into my cheek and I laughed, wiping the blood across my face. A tear rolled from under my brother’s girlfriend’s right eye as my brother ran up, breathing hard, holding the bottle rockets.
“Hey what are you going to do with these?” he asked.
“You know those are illegal, right? said his girlfriend.
I spit two of the cigarettes out because they were done and took the bottle rockets in my hand.
“Look out, babies,” I said as I took another cigarette from my mouth and began to light the bottle rockets one by one.
My brother started running and his girlfriend started screaming and as people streamed out of Hayden’s house I spit out the remaining cigarettes, lay to the ground and put the wooden ends of the rockets in my mouth. I heard someone yell my name and someone crying but I just lay there, sucking in the sulfur smell of danger through my nose, already in the future.