When a sweater isn't just a sweater

Linda: Why don't you just get rid of it.

Jack: What?

Linda: That (pointing at his old rugby sweater). You said you'd get rid of it. You were going to take it to the thrift shop.

Jack: I'm thinking about it.

Linda: What do you mean 'thinking about it'? Either you are or you aren't.

Jack: I like it. It's not like I wear it when we go out or anything. What's the big deal?

Linda: No big deal. It just bugs me when you say you're going to do something and then don't.

Jack: It's comfortable. It's good to have something around that's comfortable.

Linda: And what about the new one I bought for you?

Jack: That's different.

Linda: What's different about it?

Jack: It's not as comfortable.

Linda: What do you mean not comfortable?

Jack: I said "not as" comfortable. It's broken in – comfortable – I can relax in it. It's good for lounging around – when I can't find something to wear.

Linda: You could break in the new one. Don't you like it?

Jack: Of course I do. I love it. It's my favourite. Just because I still like the old one doesn't mean I don't like yours.

Linda: You could have fooled me!

Jack: You're making way too big a thing out of this! Will it make you happy if I get rid of it?

Linda: Yes.

Jack: Alright then. Tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow.


From Thirteen Prompts by Dan Wiencek:
Write a scene showing a man and a woman arguing over the man's friendship with a former girlfriend. Do not mention the girlfriend, the man, the woman, or the argument.

Deus Ex Machina

Debra liked the demented, the dark and the surreal. It reflected her personality. From a young age, she’d realized there was no such thing as happy endings. The pursuit of happiness was for the delusional.

To the world, she presented a hard, been knocked around, can take care of myself, so don’t fuck with me veneer. She didn’t believe in fairy tales -- unless they were told by Tim Burton. Yet, in the back of her mind, she harboured the faint hope that there might be a happy ever after for her. Of course, she never allowed anyone to see this hopefulness.

So, now, here she was lying on a white sand beach. She couldn’t remember how she got there.

She looked down at herself. She was dressed all in white; white slacks, white blouse, white pumps. She strained to remember something – anything. It was surreal; a scene from the Twilight Zone. Wasn’t there a scene like this in Contact where Jodie Foster’s character meets her dead father on a beach? Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was dreaming. That’s it – a dream – it must be a dream. Well, if that was the case, she’d just go with it.

Down the beach, she could see a dark shape against the whiteness of the sand. As there was nothing else around, she took a step towards it. In an instant, she found herself looking down at the body of a black Arabian, lying on its side – the same horse she’d sketched over and over in countless notebooks as a child; when she still had dreams of happiness; before her mom’s death; before the anger and constant black cloud.

A kaleidoscope of her life played back at her in the sheen of the Arabian’s coat; the self-destructive behaviour, the failed marriages, the sabotaged relationships, the sorry state of her self-imposed loneliness. Maybe she really was dead. But wasn't there anything good about her life?

A fluttering movement caught her attention. She turned around to see a multi-coloured hot air balloon. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. That’s the thing about death dreams, she thought – they don’t need to make sense.

Across the breeze, a pure light-as-air voice was singing, “Some day my prince will come . . .”

Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the now putrefying horse, and stepped into the hot-air balloon.


For Sunday Scribblings, "Happy Ending" and Dan Wiencek's 13 Writing Prompts

(This is probably one of the weirdest pieces I've done. All I had was Dan Wiencek's last sentence, the Sunday Scribbling’s prompt of “Happy Ending” and my own self-imposed word limit. I had no idea how I’d get there until I got there.)