One of my 2021 resolution was – write a flash fiction inspired from BJD (Those who haven’t read her yet shall be kept at bay with silent bafflement.) by Helen Fielding, in January 2021. After a few weeks procrastination finally I managed to pen it down.
A sharp bend in the midst of conversation.
“Why do you write?” wheezed Chenel with a nasty smirk.
Aaaargh. Abysmally foolish inquisitiveness. Of course, to forge a new career out of a brittle life that I have done away with. According to empirical evidence, a dangerous confession was tugging the Bitch Queen from Hell.
Durrr! I gave myself a little shake and dissembled my bona fide fractious sentiments.
“Uh-huh” I managed to garble through a sluttish grin.
’twas a stroke of genius that I could rustle up in the nick of time instead of a knee-jerk outburst. With the mounting tension under the tutelage of the Tattle-Queen, you could cut the fug with a knife.
I put down the Red Wine Chocolate Cake and slipped off onto the balcony.
Gosh! My heart gave a great lurch as I stuck my head above the parapet. Never could I hazard a guess about the cripplingly embarrassing arrival of the coolest-hunter-prowling-in-the-alley.
Unlike earlier this time he was clean-shaved, fresh-faced and healthy-looking, prattling away with Timothy. I confess we never discussed any skirt-health summit after (or before) my rants about his fuckwittage dêbacle.
He looked up straight through me as I was staring crazily at him then chuckled at Timothy and went on with his prattles.
Such chuckles infringe upon my speech by reducing my ego to the size of a snail sending me work myself into a frenzy. Heaven forbid it is not to say I dint lurve him!
Juno had assured me he’ll be gagging for it now. But the dream felt as afield as the moon. My brain-fart culminated into making-me-turn-tail and frantically pick up the plate of cake once again. While gobbling it down I racked my brains for whose dictum was that – Love has eradicated the need to pig out. Aaaaaaaaaaargh!
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