[Posted for Genre Shorties. Prompt: write about Tracy Fabre -- hey, that's me -- using one of the provided opening lines.]
I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.
You’re wondering how I can fit in the sink?
Well, when that Fabre woman zaps you with one evil look from her Big Green Eye, suddenly you fit into a lot of places.
My biggest worry is whether I can climb out before she tries to use the garbage disposer, because that is gonna hurt SO bad in the moments before I croak.
She laughs.
A lot.
Cackles, really.
She’s not ‘right’ in the head. She mutters about ‘Genre Shorties’ and ‘100 words.’ It’s crazy talk; the mumblings of a madwoman.
Pray for me. I gotta get out of here.


























Comments: 51
Not that he's not a little evil, too, of course.
Speaking of the green eye, there's the story of the gal with one green eye and one red eye. It came in handy telling her boyfriend...
The guy "experimenting" with the garbage disposer was a class ahead of us and needless to say had overdone the spirits.
Better then the Chain Saw Massacre
Bye-bye!
(Ha! not really).
And sure you're going to save me, if you can get past that Fabre woman's guard dogs, electrified fence, toast-flinging trebuchet and fingernails on a blackboard defense system!
Fortunately, Bobby Sherman is a trained EMT.