Latigo Flint's Very Short Literary Trifecta
Prologue
Latigo Flint is proud to present a poem, a play and a novel. Each is very short, 'cause Latigo knows how busy you are.
*****************************************
A Very Short Poem
by Latigo Flint
She smiled and savaged my dashboard with her purse pocketknife,
and when the airbag deployed, she lost one of her pretty eyes.
The End
*****************************************
A Very Short One-Act Play
by Latigo Flint
Boy:
Sometimes when it's cold my scars turn purple.
Girl:
But it's not that cold, and that's not a scar!
The End
*****************************************
A Very Short Novel
by Latigo Flint
With weeping hearts and stoic faces we pushed ever westward, deep into that savage land of death and dogwood blossoms. Later, cougars ate our faces off.
The End
******************************************
Epilogue
Latigo Flint originally intended this to be a quadradical. (Yeah, I said it--Quad Radical--four awesome things.) But he couldn't quite find a good tune for his opera. And besides, it too featured cougars and pain, and that seemed just a tad repetitive.
posted by Latigo Flint @ 12:12 AM
11 comments
11 Comments:
But Latigo,
Surely all life features pain...
And...
Uh...
Cougars...
You've missed out Short Story in your quadradical, Latigo.
A Very Short Comment
Awesome. I love it when faces get eaten off. Especially without the need for mayo.
I still think that one-act play is sexy like Flint-y steel.
Pain never gets old.
And cougars are know for their pain-dispensing abilities
Yes Nicolas Papaconstantinou! Quite right. Cougars! Which are, of course, a part of life. And who, the cougars I mean, as everyone knows, enjoy eating faces off... and, uh, having your face eaten off, like, hurts a lot and stuff.
All stories are short Sam. It's just the telling that sometimes takes a while.
(Oooh!!! I just came up with that on the fly... I so copyright that now!)
And cougars are happy to oblige Old Hoss... all too happy to oblige.
Thank you Ari. And I still vividly remember a certain box turtle struggling on its back, foam oozing from its reptilian maw as the scent of dogwoods filled the air.
They like to eat faces off Trevor, those cougars do. No doubt. And having your face eaten off hurts. It hurts quite a bit. I'd cross the street to avoid it... unless pretty girls were watching, in which case I'd try not to scream and hope they'd always speak well of me and hold their future husbands with regret against the memory of my bravery.
We tried to get Mozart to write in the style of Latigo Flint, because we were busy, but Wolfie insisted on using too many notes.
Well, okay, but I'm totally quoting you...
You're a Renaissance Man, LF.
I'm dying over here... You're fucking hilarous.
oh, can I say fuck on here?
I disagree.
All stories are long. It’s just lazy storytelling that sometimes cuts them short.
Or witty conciseness. Is that the American spelling? Can't be bothered to chekkit...
And yes - I sooo copied and pasted it from your first quoter.
Post a Comment
<< Home