How quickly the mighty have fallen.
Right on their toukiss.
You may recall that I won last year’s Bet. You may recall that I gloated with fervor as I handed the title of “Miss Candor Sends Her Regrets” to Andrew Smith so he could write a short story around it. You may recall a victory jig (well, maybe not, as I did it when no one was around; rest assured, there was a jig).
This year’s Derby? Didn’t work out as well for me.
I’m not alone. Catherine lost. Kimberly lost. Andrew won (both our bet and the race; his horse actually came in first, something I didn’t even come close to with last year’s victory). And now, as I do the Walk of Shame to my laptop, I must write a short story using a title provided by Catherine, whose horse came in ahead of mine: “All of Nature Abhors a Vacuum.”
It will not be a roman a clef using my cat as a protagonist.
I got off lucky. Last year, Catherine gave Kimberly the somewhat problematic title, “Uncle Mo’s Gastrointestinal Tract.” Maybe Catherine regretted that, so she went easy on me. (If she didn’t regret it then, she must be regretting it now that Kimberly has given her the title, “Uncle Mo Holds a Grudge.” Why do I have the feeling that, if this Bet continues to be a regular thing, Uncle Mo will be making a perennial appearance…)
We have a deadline of June 1 to do our stories, whereupon the three losers will post their stories (Kimberly will be using Andrew’s supplied title, “The Flat Tire Man”) on our respective blogs for all to see.
(Pssst. Don’t tell my fellow writers but I’m done with my story. I couldn’t sleep Saturday night, I got an idea, and I ran with it. But don’t spread it around. I don’t want them to be jealous or anything. Besides, who knows, I may decide I hate it between now and June 1.)
So, stay tuned in a month for an original short story titled “All of Nature Abhors a Vacuum.” (You know, the one that’s already done. ‘Cause that’s how I roll.)
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