short story

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.

Invasion by Ukraine!

Holy shait! The freaking Russians invaded Ukraine right?
Guess who is here in the new apartment of my mother installing
the new windows….4 Ukranians!
My theory: They lost against the big red army, they were prisoners of war,
they escaped and fled here to Spain incognito and are installing windows by day
and they work as mercenaries by night. Or in their lunch brake right now.
They´ll spend the whole day here and 2 more,until all the windows are installed,
and me being the lookout, while mother rests in bed. At least their funny guys
so not a boring day although a bit pain in the ass.
The Russians invaded Ukraine and now the Ukraine guys invade the house
of my mother. I should ask them if they are mercenaries or assassins…

And you tell me that people have writers block? Come on.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Lisa the dog(50 word story)

Her nickname was “Cutte”. Her real name was Lisa, what a beautiful name….
When people came to see her owner Alfred they always asked him about his scratches
and bruises.People also noticed that Alfred was very jumpy, finally he showed
them the proof, the real monster, Chuck the devil dog.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.


I have this unstable process….
I go back to the shit town with the criminals
and I fall for it, that, the other, and become a bitch brother.
I stay in bed reading, not much to do there if it´s not good things.
Yet again, I´ll remain just sayin-my choice.
I get a call this morning, my mother. She is in the last stages of cancer.
Yesterday, she was vomiting. Not good. Me in bed feeling sorry for myself
because I went back to alcohol and drugs…hear? Feeling sorry for myself.
I get the call next day, put that in a shelf, jump out of bed, call the taxi.
I can feel the shift in my mentality, this is my important and sad reality.
Do I cry? No. Does my mind goes in a state of relaxation? Yes.
Weird that it is relaxed right? That is how it works if not I fuck up,
relax, get back to mothers house while talking with the taxi driver and
nudging her to speed up a bit by the way, either that or I my highway.
See mom, and with a smile on the face I tell her that my pants are clean.
She laughs, I know the seriousness but what good is it to be in crying-ess.

I go to 0-100, does not serve well in the overall life scheme, but in this situation
in any situation that death is involved, you better have a 100 percent not pussy cat
near you. And that is the only thing I know about me for real.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

who do you live with?(50 word story)

The ten year old boy stepped out of his room. It was late at night,he had
been woken up by the sound of “tak tak”. He saw his father typing on a
small keyboard,he suddenly heard a loud “bang”, police arrested
his father, charged with espionage against America for China.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Laura the butcher(50 word story)

The door bell rang, Laura stopped cutting a piece of meat and opened the door.
To the surprise of his friend Frank her white sweater was covered in red,
Frank laughed at her simple explanation and left, she returned to cutting up
her now ex-boyfriend Mike who had been late for dinner.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.