As I promised, below I have posted my entry for Kaitlyn’s Tom Petty Short Story contest. She gave us the first line of “You think you’re gonna take her away, with your money and your cocaine.” and we were to use that to build a story in roughly 500 words. I completed my entry just before midnight last night, minutes before the deadline.
I tried something new with this one and I have trouble writing in 1st person, so please forgive me if this isn’t very good. Sometimes I think you have to just stick with an idea and write it out, even if it doesn’t completely work. Or maybe it is good. I have no idea. I’m too scared to re-read it. Anyhow, I’m posting my entry here before I lose my nerve.
Get Petty Contest Entry
“You think you’re gonna take her away, with your money and your cocaine.”
Those are the words that keep running through my head as the blows pour down on me like Schlitz on Homecoming weekend. I’m not really sure where that line came from, though a tiny part of me thinks I uttered this phrase when the men in the trench coats first accosted me. I’m unable to say them aloud at the moment, my jaw was broken a few minutes ago, but repeating that maxim in my mind is keeping me going.
From the moment I first met her, I knew she was out of my league confident I would never be able to truly keep her happy. She is a Dodge Viper kinda girl and I’m a Hyundai Accent kinda guy. She let me hold her hand and told me I made her laugh, so that was enough for me. I was almost happy to give her my savings, if only to smell her perfume and feel the skin of her cheek pressed against mine once more.
Getting your butt kicked really isn’t as bad as you would think, or at least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself. It’s hard to tell what’s reality and what’s a dream. I know my ribs really are broken, but I’m not quite sure Yosemite Sam really is behind my assailants calling me a wuss, though I wouldn’t blame him. If I don’t act soon, I don’t think I’m going to survive this, and part of me wants to give up. And yet, even as I begin to feel myself give in to the darkness, a small fire starts to burn in the back of my mind. “You think you’re gonna take her away, with your money and your cocaine?”
It was really hot this evening. What an odd thought to have when most of your body is being tenderized by two Neanderthals. I had worn a loose button down shirt out tonight, and by the time I started my walk home I was down to the last button. If I were to slip out of my shirt I may be able to work myself free from the man who is holding me and reach the Taser I had been carrying since the threats had first started. Fail at that, and it was all over.
A wise man once said,”You can stand me up at the gates of Hell, but I won’t back down.” Well, I guess for the first time in my life I refuse to back down.
“You think you’re gonna take her away, with your money and your cocaine?”
The Struggling Writer 