Well the winners were announced for the contest over at The Moon Topples, and I wasn’t among the winners. I am posting my entry here, but first a little discussion. I have to admit that I’m not terrible surprised that I didn’t win. For one, there were a ton of great entries and probably a case could be made for most of the entries.
Secondly, I don’t think my writing is terribly conducive to winning contests. My writing tends to be funny or silly most of the time. I for the most part stay away from darker images or subject matter. When I set out to write an entry for these contests I don’t try to be funny, but that is what usually happens (I hope). For the most part I try to write to entertain, to put a smile on someone’s face who may be having a bad day. I also aim for well written fiction, though I have no idea if I ever hit that. Basically, I write what I like to read.
Don’t read this as sour grapes, though. Everyone who won clearly deserved to win, just take a look at the comments for those entries.
Anyhow, I will keep taking part in these contests, hoping I am able to entertain somebody or make somebody laugh. Congratulations to everybody who won and those who participated. You all earned it. Here is my entry. I hope you like it. Thanks to Maht for hosting the contest.
It had been there his whole life, at first just a tiny patch of skin on his shoulder tinted slightly darker than the rest. As he got older, however, Duce began to notice changes. When he was five years old, the growth began to spout one hair, then several hairs, then a mound of hair. Duce’s parent’s tried all sorts of hair removal techniques, but the more they tried, the thicker it grew back.
What was once merely an inconvenience became unbearable in junior high, as the growth continued to expand into a mound nearly the size of his head. Duce never got above a C- in gym class, refusing to ever play on the “skins” team. By his senior year, Duce could no longer cover up his problem with baggy shirts, eventually having to order specially made clothing with large openings in upper torso.
“I really I think I should have it removed,” said Duce, gesturing to his shoulder.
“I think it’s fine,” said Andrew, trying his hardest not to look directly at his friend’s ailment. “The doctor doesn’t seem to have a problem with it and it doesn’t seem to be hurting anything.”
“Oh, really?” said Duce grabbing Andrew by the chin, forcing him to look at his shoulder. “Do you think it’s easy talking to women with this thing on my arm? I haven’t had as much as a peck on the cheek from a woman in over ten years!”
“Maybe you could grow your hair long?” said Andrew rubbing his now sore chin.
“Have you seen my head lately?” said Duce. “It would take one massive comb-over to cover that thing up.”
“How about butterfly collars? Y’know, retro look?”
“That’s one trend I think should stay dead,” answered Duce. “Besides, you know it wouldn’t cover it. Let’s face it, that thing on my shoulder is ruining my life. It’s gotta go.”
“Uh, excuse me guys,” said a voice to Duce’s right. “I’m right here, you know. I can hear you.”
“I’m sorry,” said Duce. “It’s all true, though. Bad enough I have to share a body with you, the least you could do is not tell every girl I meet about my bed wetting problem.”
“I think it’s better to be honest up front,” said the voice. “Besides, you do know whoever you date I have to date too, right? I thought I told you I think I’m gay.”
“Uh, I think you pretty much confirmed that one last Friday,” said Duce, wincing. “At least I keep an open mind.”
“I could have you removed,” said the voice, changing the subject. “Would you like that?”
“I was here first,” said Duce. “You can’t do that. Squatter’s rights. What do you think Andrew?”
“I guess two heads aren’t always better than one,” said Andrew, laughing at his own joke.
“You’re an idiot,” said Duce and his wayfarer in unison.
“I know,” said Andrew, hanging his head in shame.