Everything all set up. I signed on the dotted lines. I had become a soldier.
Well, not quite thanks to my idiot dad.
Since I was still in high school, I needed my parents to sign off my recruitment papers. But he refused to do so. Naturally, I was pissed. You’d think 9/11 would have enraged him as much as it did me. He insisted that Iraq had nothing to do with New York.
He didn’t budge, no matter how heated I got. Soon, I dropped the subject.
I didn’t know it at the time, but he saved my life.
Convince me, he had said. You have one hundred words to save your job. Bastard. I’ve been here seven years. Since it was a flashy start-up. I did the long days, the late nights, the early starts. Jesus, I didn’t even draw a wage until January. That made for a pretty shitty Christmas. But I digress. One hundred words, you say? What can I say to convince you? Without me you’d be … no, what about, I would love just five more weeks to finish the … no, okay, so what about 'fuck your job, you despicable piece of …'
New subscriber here--but wanted to stop in and say how fun this is. I love micro fiction, and I admire Kathy Fish and others who are so talented at it. Thank you for this forum to explore our own skills and get writing!
Title: My Idiot Dad
Everything all set up. I signed on the dotted lines. I had become a soldier.
Well, not quite thanks to my idiot dad.
Since I was still in high school, I needed my parents to sign off my recruitment papers. But he refused to do so. Naturally, I was pissed. You’d think 9/11 would have enraged him as much as it did me. He insisted that Iraq had nothing to do with New York.
He didn’t budge, no matter how heated I got. Soon, I dropped the subject.
I didn’t know it at the time, but he saved my life.
We Have to Let You Go
Convince me, he had said. You have one hundred words to save your job. Bastard. I’ve been here seven years. Since it was a flashy start-up. I did the long days, the late nights, the early starts. Jesus, I didn’t even draw a wage until January. That made for a pretty shitty Christmas. But I digress. One hundred words, you say? What can I say to convince you? Without me you’d be … no, what about, I would love just five more weeks to finish the … no, okay, so what about 'fuck your job, you despicable piece of …'
Also posted on Notes --- here's my poem for today...
Here’s my 100 Word Poem for this Friday…
In my kitchen at midnight…
In my kitchen at midnight
I coax chickpeas she demands,
the day before she arrives.
I know she likes them sour
and piquant, spicy and rich.
Lining spices, I carry
love, a heavy bottomed pot.
I roast anardana, zeera,
Tez patta, laung, amchur -- young
mangoes once, now powdered dry.
Peel and chop, ready flavors that
burgeon over searing flame.
She’s in my kitchen. More
than hunger. She sees me
ladle caution as I serve,
Why’d you worry for me, Ma?
I laugh, not speak out loud, You’ll
know the day you’re disarmed by
a tiny, defenseless one…
- reena kapoor | 7/21/23
New subscriber here--but wanted to stop in and say how fun this is. I love micro fiction, and I admire Kathy Fish and others who are so talented at it. Thank you for this forum to explore our own skills and get writing!