Sunday, January 29, 2012

Five Sentence Fiction!  The word is: Clandestine.  This entry may or may not be grammatically kosher.

Smoke Break

Mario is long unkempt anarchy hair, brown stoner eyes, a fifteen year-old's half mustache, a smattering of acne on his chin because he leans on it in Biology when he's bored (which is always), his brother's hand-me-down uniform pants; his brother being taller, they're too long, so he rolls them up just enough that he steps on the hem to give them a respectable fray.

Clinton ('Clih-EN everyone in this town says as no one seems able to pronounce an -int) is a buzz-cut redheaded white boy and British, and he's even been to Africa on “holiday," and he rolls up packs of cigarettes in his sleeve because he saw it in a movie and because he thinks it makes him look like he has better biceps which might also give him the impression of having a six-pack.

Sister Dorothy (young but vicious and chinless and who can trust anyone with hair from the 70's?) goes on the war path at lunch time so Mario and Clinton sneak into the ball shed (heh, balls) behind the soccer field for their smoke and it's lucky no one is already in there making out; the place just smells like sweaty rubber and possibly sex.

They light up Marlboro Reds and laugh about poor ole fat Dave Alvarado's pit stains, Mrs. Abner’s gross thighs, Marley Benjamin's disturbing foot odor, and Mario eventually makes half-hearted mention of Sheila Sutter's tits just before he takes a drag and glances away at deflated footballs while picking at a zit before he thinks of what he's doing, and his hand does a weird fluttery thing that Clinton notices which alone makes his nakedly open Anglo cheeks go red for no reason that he can name.

There's a quiet moment during which Mario sees that his black Chuck Taylor is touching Clinton's steel-toe and with exuberant heart hammering and nicotine thrill he edges closer still staring at the floor, not realizing that Clinton has already taken great notice of how Mario's hair falls over his shy stoner eyes just so, and the really great part is that neither can figure out who made the move when their lips met or how the other knew to take the chance but both later agree to make underage smoking a regular habit.


  1. You have single-handedly upped the ante on five-sentence fiction. This is one lovely, exhilarating, wild, kick-ass, delicious dance of a story and I love each and every word of it.

  2. Wow - the longest sentences I have ever seen on #fivesentencefiction, and yet, it works! Damn! :)

  3. Excuse my French, but this is fucking awesome!

  4. I am in complete agreement with everyone else. This rocks on so many levels. Very nice!!!

  5. Really Erin? How am I supposed to ever write a 5 sentence fiction again with this masterpiece to try and match?! This was amazing! I cannot wait to read more more more of your writing. Well done!