Experimental Short: The Pick Up

Experimental Shorts are works based outside of the writer’s normal scope of genre and ideas, conceptualised and written in under twenty minutes.

‘You’re not like everyone else here, are you?’ Said the slender girl, her eyes intensely focused, but deep down they had no hint of real interest. She has played this game many times before, and has become very good at it.

‘Not like everyone else here?’ He replied through moist lips, after pulling the half empty glass away from his mouth and beard. ‘Everyone else is not like everyone else here.’ He pointed out into the dance floor. ‘Look over there, at the guy with the sleeveless top and muscles.’

The girl looked, puzzled at an answer that was not the usual.

‘He looks just like every other man here, near enough, and he’s accepted because of it. But when he goes home, he covers those big manly arms in something soft and warm, and watches a chick-flick. Something to make him cry perhaps, to remember what it is to have an emotion besides anger or lust.’ He pointed again, somewhere new. ‘And that young lady, in the tight red dress. She’s surrounded by hopeful men and boys, playing with them like they’re toys. They crave her sex and she both knows and enjoys it. But even with all of the men in the world, her one truth and one denial, is that only a certain woman can make her cum.’ The man’s descriptions became quicker and less focused as he pointed and pointed again. ‘That woman sleeps with her own brother; the man next to her loves to dance, but won’t enter the dance floor because he fears losing control, so he prefers to stay near the bar and appear cool, collected; there are two brothers, twins, who secretly swap identities to mess with their spouses’ heads, innocent, until the point of psychological abuse.’ He took a breath, took a sip of his golden drink, and then took another breath. ‘All of the women appear the same, and so do all of them men. Skirts, heels, muscles and hair. Everyone else is the same, and then not the same at all. They all have their secrets.’

The slender girl was intrigued, but her puzzlement still showed through her smile and her make up.

‘I’m not like everyone else. I don’t have any secrets, I’m just an observer. I watch the theatre and guess at the lies.’ He lifted the glass to his lips, expecting to drink alone again. But this did not happen.

The slender girl sat down next to him and extended her hand. ‘I’m Sharon.’

Reviews

[MOON]

Interesting being an observer . Good write nice flow

[Andrew Poole]

Thanks very much, I'm glad you liked it.

[Kaylor Mason]

Well, that's one way to do it, I suppose