Fiction written by members and friends of the MuseItUp Club. Submissions are invited for this page.*
by Nick Tyler
"You're gonna get it, you know that!" I pointed my finger at him, knowing
he heard me.
And what kind of reaction do you think I got? That's right – none! Why? Because he's a sneaky little
bastard, dancing around like some drunkard, testing my patience. That's why!
Distractions really piss me off when
I'm in the middle of something important. Okay, okay ... maybe writing about schizophrenic trolls trying to start their own
dermatology practice isn't that important to others, but it's important to me!
It was such a relief when he disappeared
for a moment or two, but it's kind of like being at the beach on a cloudy day when the sun comes out for thirty seconds. You
experience nirvana, almost like you've landed on the set of Baywatch, thinking it might last forever. But in reality, you're
in denial, and that ball of fire from millions of miles away is only playing peek-a-boo, as it has with countless others for
Sure enough, he returned. Please don't think I'm crazy for saying this, but ...
Wait a second. Should
I really tell you this? Will you alert the authorities if I do? I can trust you, right? I think I might be taking an unnecessary
risk here, but being that I've already led you on, I'll spit it out: I wanted to kill him.
Unable to control my anger
any longer, I stood up and took a swing at him. I nearly lost my balance after my knuckles smashed into the computer screen
- not a pleasant sensation. I could only remember one thing that hurt worse, which was when I entered a 'Chinese Wax Massage'
on the boardwalk (it was a dare). I came out in tears and was soon after approached by a model agent for gay magazines. My
fiancée laughed, but I took it as a compliment.
He came back again. He always came back! This time he moved faster,
taunting me with a sick sense of determination.
I closed my eyes, opened my palm, and quietly chanted: "Heyya hooooahoooa!
Heyya hooooahoooa!" I intended something yoga-like, but I think it came out more Native American. Regardless, I ended up thrusting
my palm forward. Direct hit! I smashed him to pieces.
Now I try to remember to keep the windows closed on hot summer
evenings. Those dreaded gnats will see the light from your computer screen and approach in steady droves, like they've targeted
the Garden of Eden – fruit and all. I can imagine the gnat angels singing a triumphant opera-like harmony in their ears
upon their approach. After I smash each of their tiny little bodies, I play the theme from Empire Strikes Back in my mind.
Then, once again at my keyboard in peace, I return to being the all-powerful of my domain.
Unfortunately, the domain
I refer to doesn't extend beyond my computer desk. I am married now, you know?
Nick Tyler has written three books: Rawson’s Fun House, Rawson’s Revenge and Mind Bomb. He is currently working on The Locals and Short Shorts. He has won several short story contests,
although hasn’t yet broken into the traditional publishing world. He trades stocks for a living.