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These be tidbits of nonsense More Titled Poetry Dream Poem 2 Titled Poetry Poe Eh Tree Windex, the BDC The Barrel and the Maiden Safari Beta The Red Carnation Johnny Moses and the Evil Leprechauns The Adventures of Super emO Boy The Platypus God of Heavy Metal If I Were a Guy... That One Thing A Fairy Tale Safari The Magical Rocker Leprechaun Fishies Extremely Short Stories Starchtastical Mousie Wousie 2 Disblabbity Amawikdwichellapringlewoot The Brainless Beauty Squeakypotamus Mousie Wousie Poppledroplik Cupkiddle The Little Emu with a Mullet Hamster Pogo Clowns | That One Thing Sunday, DECEMBERUNDERGROUND 31, 2006 Chardonnay was slightly overweight, unmarried, and in his late forties. He lived alone in a small, dimly lit apartment in a grimy city. During his teens Chardonnay had practiced for hours, trying to find the fastest way to undo a bra clasp. His mother was a seamstress and kept all of her dress forms in the attic of their house, so he didn't find it extremely difficult to carry out his secret practice sessions. The only reason he participated in this strange activity was that he was excruciatingly nervous about his first time. Granted, he hadn't found any girl who was willing (or even particularly interested in him), but in his heart he knew the day would one day come. One rainy day, on his seventeenth birthday, the anticipated day had finally arrived. Sitting in the backseat of his dad's car, Chardonnay had reached under his girlfriend's shirt.... only to find that she wasn't wearing a bra at all. But there was definitely something there. He had stopped and stared at her in complete disbelief. "What the hell are you wearing under there?" he had asked. Her puzzled expression vanished and she said "It's a cami." A cami? he thought. What is a cami? His years of practicing for this one moment wasted, he had taken her home and broken up with her. Now when he looked back at that one day, he often wondered what life would be like had she been wearing a bra. It would probably be better, and I'd have a Mercedes and be fit, with a beautiful wife, big house, kids..... While his mind wandered he stared around glumly at his small cubicle. Chardonnay was stuck in a dead end accounting job, but he supposed he was lucky to have a job at all. The other tired looking people around him stared at their computers, not really seeing anything. Probably thinking what their lives could've been like if not for one event, just like him. "BROWN!" a harsh voice called out. Chardonnay looked up. It was his boss, Terrence. "I uh, I was just collecting my thoughts, sir" he said as a quick excuse. "Well get back to work, you collect your thoughts on your own time" replied Terry. He walked away slowly, looking back to make sure his minion was doing as told. Heh. Minion. Pretty smart. Terry chuckled to himself. Chardonnay sighed. He hated his name. His parents... it was all their fault. They wanted to be "unique" and "different".... "Damn... this is good wine, Mary" he could almost hear his father saying. "Let's name our next kid after this...." His mother probably would've agreed. She didn't think much on her own. Chardonnay. It's so... girly. Why, oh WHY, did they have to name me this? At work he pretended his name was just Charlie, but legally it was Chardonnay. Stupid name. The clock said 5. Time to go home. Picking up his coat and briefcase, he walked out to his car. Traffic was horrible on the way home. Must be that new road thing they're building. Why do we need a new one? The old one is good enough... He passed a store he'd probably seen hundreds of times before but never really noticed. "Guns 'n Mor" the sign read. Where an 'e' should have been a light spot was visible. On a whim he pulled into the parking lot and went inside. After arriving home Chardonnay took out the handgun he had purchased at the shop. He loaded it and held it to his temple... "Looks like a suicide." said Thomson, gesturing at the body. "Yeah, probably." his fellow police officer replied. "What's the guy's name?" Another officer, returning from an inspection of the apartment, answered "Uh.... Chardonnay M. Brown." Thomson laughed. What kind of name was that? "Poor bastard, bet he killed himself just 'cause o' that" he said, trying to hide a smile. "Ha, yeah" the others laughed slightly, trying not to look at the bloody mess at their feet. Glad I'm not on the cleanup crew. Each of them thought to himself as they left the scene. 7 Comments. wow...that's a good story...extremely morbid though » lazypuppy on 2006-12-31 06:38:16 eventually sometime in the near future I'd like to open a children's bookstore. It's a goal of mine. » Helena on 2006-12-31 07:06:13 I don't like crunches, they bore me. I'll stick with situps. » ikimashokie on 2007-01-01 02:33:15 nah i wud never leave nutang. its too awesome! » Jinaiah on 2007-01-01 04:59:34 that's sort of a depressing story. interesting tho. I don't like wine, esp Chardonnay. It tastes nasty. There's only one type I'll drink {white zin} and I really really have to be in the mood to drink it. » LostSoul13 on 2007-01-01 06:10:05 No, the optimists die sooner, because they think that the cars will stop for them when they're crossing the street. » ikimashokie on 2007-01-01 06:10:16 you told me i didnt have to comment but i will anyway and haha i like that story! like it a lot. good job » feelthesound902 on 2007-01-17 08:12:15
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