Rejection: It's Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

Since the fine folks at dogzplot.blogspot.com turned me down, I guess I can go ahead and post this here: Flash Fiction, again, this time 200 words or less. The title is "Ponytail"

"She crossed her legs easily. She can tuck one leg so far over the other her shoe almost hits me in the leg. The stockings make a synthetic, high pitched sound when they rub together. I am sitting behind her, so every detail is palpable. The semicircle of skin between the base of her neck and the collar of her shirt. Her ponytail, a long, straight line that bobs when she moves her head. Like a pony.

She moves her head to follow him as he lectures. Biology, Punnett squares. Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. I have to follow him too, but I follow her, following him. A stray hair is on my notebook. It's hers, long and brown and curly. Hair has DNA.

When he mentions sexuality, the manifestation of all this math and intricate relationships, a titter runs through them all. Not even a giggle, just a acknowledgment that something naughty has been brought up. I feel it, feel the letters colliding, the traits mixing, the magic of generations bearing fruit. I cannot admit what I really feel, but my body screams it out. Reproduce or die, it says. Being civilized, I stay quiet."

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My NaBloPoMo streak ended last night, to the shock and surprise of exactly no one. Don't judge.

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If you want to see some roasting done by one of the quickest minds in the business, check out facebook.com/the40yearoldboy, and scroll down to the Jimmy Pardo roast section. Jeffrey Ross, eat your heart out. Exuberantly NSFW, though, so be warned.