Day 321: A 369 Word Short Story About Elephant Ears
It’s Thursday and it’s slowly becoming my favorite day of the week. That’s because you, the reader, gets to decide what the hell I actually write about! This weeks prompt comes from Mike, who wanted to see 369 words about elephant ears. Even though I personally hate elephant ears, I’m a man of my word. Or rather, 369 words:
“Sure, I love elephant ears”, you moron. “I love elephant ear—“, you fucking sack of shit…
He keeps repeating the words in his head, beating himself up harder each time. He had told his conditioning Coach that he was going to cut out sugar. What did you expect? An actual elephant ear, air fried like a pork rind? Are pork rinds air fried? He turns his attention back to her and she continues on. He would probably use the term, “prattles on”, but he doesn’t know how he would use that without offending her. But she is prattling. Prittle, prattle.
“…so that’s why I decided to switch my major to Library Sciences.”
Shit, there’s a library science? People actually go to school to work at a library? The library is free, how would she get paid? Shit, she’s waiting for you to say something. Say something, fucker!
“Yeah, switching majors must be hard”
“Tell me about it. But at least I didn’t waste any credits. But actually…”
Prattle, prittle, prattle.
He does want to listen to her. But he’s taken in by the moment. He never thought she would say “yes”. He never thought he would be lucky enough to be walking with somebody so intelligent and beautiful. The sights and sounds of the carnival are muted and it’s just them, walking forever. It feels like a strange dream. The dust from the path is getting all over her feet. She just keeps prattling on as she blithely tears off pieces of her elephant ear and pops it in her mouth between sentences. Blithely. That’s another good word. Meanwhile, his left hand is clutching onto his elephant ear for dear life. He doesn’t know what to do with it. Does he pretend to drop it? Question what kind of oil it was fried in? “Was it canola? I only eat canola.” Her eyes lock with his and then back down to his barely nibbled ear.
“Can I see that?”
Without letting him answer, she takes the ear and drops it in a waste bin. Smiling, she grabs his sugary hand, still prattling.
“But enough about me. Did you see the Twins game last night?”
He squeezes her hand harder.