flash fiction

My tribute for father

I don´t know if it is a tribute or not,
my way and highway not the smartest.
I got to love this man
it is in me.

Mother.. you know I love you, you literally raised me by yourself

My father, came from real hard situations, to say the least (also you mom)
He overcame each obsticale, and they were plenty. He “made” it to the big leagues,
When I hear his calm voice, once in while and I don´t expect more of him since you don´t
can´t ask “No preguntes peras al olmo” ( English transaltion, don´t ask for more)

Got out off topic, father love you. Nor drunk.. yet, or maybe not, lets let them guessing,

You know you have a crazy son, and putting it in public, even if you a public person, not for me
althoght there is a reason for me writing this.
It might fire out the behind also, but doubt it.

Dad, I have no ” daddy” issues by the way, but this is my way.
Love you, and more important love you for what you do for mom I know the stress you go through,
but never let it see for the outsiders.
Someone…. should tell that story, your working history and the love for mother,
I know you neither mother wants the ins of it, but you disserve that, and it won´t be
from your crazy son, might get someone else… Love you father.
(Actually I think that the word Love just came out now in writing, not while speakind to him)

Love you.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Put fear

You have, in order to servive-
Put fear on people,
Sounds not nice-
Yet people do it to survive,
I don´t like to do myself-
But is in one shelf.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Foot Note. That seemed like the perfect….photo treason

High voltage stream of consciousness

Send it
What a fucking computer I “smuggled” into the hospital, 15 minutes to get into wordpress
and it seems the Chrome goes faster than the other internet “thing” i yelled bling, and
i got a shitting but what did i expect for a 250$ laptop? Not a great top it seems.So is
hard to keep up with all of you, even the comments i have to keep them short so the computer
do it´s quick matheweter and send the freaking comment. Let alone when your page has a lot
of photos i can spend the whole day looking at the little ball rolling around and round
and round for the page to load. I hate the computer, yet I´m lucky to have one, still pissed.
I hate this hospital, it is a private one and there are too many cool girls with thongs,
nurses included i feel like in a Tom Cruise movie, i have no proofread as you might see while
you read i hat that too.
Hot nurses and doc´s distracts me from my duties as the greatest caretacker maker of my mother.
Good news it seems they probably let her out this Friday and basically made her life a bit longer.
I was already expecting for this to be the last time she entered the hospital and not walk out.
These rich people of the hosptial all have electric cars, every time i go out for a smoke
i´m constantly scared shitless because of one of those electirc shits you can´t hear them at all
to smack me. I hate all these people rich or not rich that are on the phone constantly, i even
saw a 4 year old kid in the lobby waiting with their parents for the elevator to come and him
watching a video on the phone of two teenage girls doing some kind of weird gymnistic things
in a soccer field, what the fuck? Feminist won, you made us a bunch of pussies.
I hate elecrtic cars, I hate people talking outloud on their phones I hate hospitals, I hate..
at leas my mother is still alive which is the important. What a pussy society we have become, I
even hate the hatters so I hate myself and then re think and unhate me, but hate all the others…
So fuck it, read as many as i can of you when this shit can computer goes faster, if ever, whatever,
now it seems it´s going so so so….so i also hate the computer. This was profound, you´re welcome.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Borderline psycho (flash fiction)

With her shaky hands she started to hit the keyboards of her new Apple computer.
It was 5.a.m and she couldn’t sleep, what happened the night before was eating
at her solace brain. Please no please no she kept repeating to herself,
after a brief moment she got to the front page of google, fuck! she swore
out loud. She went to gmail, enter her password, her heart beating so much it hurt
her ears, sweat started to appear on her forehead, then came the reply from google
Your password is incorrect She got the computer and threw it against
her third apartment window and the new computer felt and felt, down in slow motion she
could see it falling right on top of the head of a passerby who immediately dropped dead.

She rushed down the stairs and there he was lying unconscious,
with no pulse. It was her ex boyfriend Josh dressed in his janitors outfit. She had
called him yesterday only three hundred times, for her that was just a few calls.
She was now trying to reach him through email but had forgotten her password.
Now she finally had reached him.

She stood up, looking over him, though to herself what are the fucking chances of this…
Smiled and waited for the ambulance to arrive.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

anatomy of a drunk post

I had to be more drunk than the proverbial skunk…. Is there a proverbial for that anology?
I just re read this and thought “holy shit” but the worst part is that not in a abnormal matter,
it was a “holy shit” as me saying ” I was fucked up as a drunk skunk
(I´ll stick with the skunk thing) and as always post it for the public”. Also thought….
“yes that was me for sure drunk and writing a real weird thing yet at the same time
it made sense or didn´t, so lets keep the people guessing, or the ones who regular read me know?….”
I figured that people that read me often, or do you hit the LIKE button for what by the way?
I had 12 and a half LIKE´S in half a minute… kind of weird. I really don´t give a shit,
going back to my great drunk post, I thought it was like the empeachment of Trump by the democrats.
In this case was a “creative maneuver”…. so really not a big difference.
That was a good anology.
Just go along and hit Like and say it was great.
Holy…. I even put in there the Trump thing, not my fault by the way,
I do strategically target the American population-market, I´m doing good and no food today by the way.
What the fuck, I didn´t even put the title on the post, it was called Baby For… what a mental process,
or destruction of my one neuron, and on Monday…time to go to work. With mother who needs this idiot
not to write drunk or not to write is the first cut out priority, and needs him with all his senses,
they say people have 5 senses, yet I add another one. How? I do know me, I go from zero to hero.
I just put on my “Smart” cap, and do the fucking job. Not an easy one having been 1 month as a caretaker,
might as well go back to the army in harmony.
You are seeing what is going to be inevitable. Seeing the slow death of your own mother.
I stopped drinking today, so Monday we´ll get back to business in case you cared. Who? What?
That was a great ending to a re-start.
Hey! Anatomy of a drunk post. Remember! That is my legacy.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses and have a great Sunday.

Foot Note.
I don´t know why the writing on the WordPress thing has no limits. In short, I write a sentece.
That was the period before I see the great post published and the sentences spread apart.

The accountant(flash fiction)

He was counting, that was his job.
“Hey Joey!” He screamed.
“2 multiplied by number pie is what?”
Joey had a grin on his fat face,”I guess…Infinite.”
The accountant nodded to himself, his black eyes where now more bright than his dark suit.
Suddenly they heard a loud bang on the door followed by the words FBI and to get down,
the accountant and Fat Joey Salerno got on their bellies.
When they reached the FBI headquarters downtown New York the accountant first words were,
“Fellas, I count the money given to me by decent people.”
The FBI man looked at him and replied, ” decent to help your cronies with the heist?”
“What heist? You got me doing a heist? I count, I´m a simple accountant.”
Two hours later the accountant walked out free while Fat Joey sat in a holding cell,
another day in the job of the accountant, another day free, twenty years at his job
and twenty years of freedom and riches. Nobody knew where the money had gone,so many
accounts in so many banks so many transactions and so much deceit, deceit was the trade of the accountant.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.