6 Word Story
Needle to Skin. Ink. Clear Mind.
President Obama promises the NSA will not spy on his friends, but not you. Allies of the Obama administration can breathe easy after he announced American security agencies will not eavesdrop on his close friends. He did not however clarify who is allowed to sit at the popular table and not worry about their lunch conversations being monitored. It is clear that the American public is sitting somewhere near the back with the unpopular crowd. The President rejected the need for court permission for National Security Letters. Which give the FBI power to extract information from businesses about its customers without the public’s knowledge. American’s should not be afraid of their government spying on them, but Obama does little to squash that fear.
As we pulled up to the pump at the gas station; she hastily unbuckled her seat-belt and jumped out of the car before we had come to a complete stop. “I got it”, she called behind her. Bridget is my best friend. We had been driving for hours, making our way through the snow, wind, and -20 degree temperatures. The wind was pushing our car all over the highway, but Bridget was more than happy to endure the 25 mph winds than sit next to me and hear one more of my questions. The previous three hours she avoided me with skull crushingly loud pop songs blaring through the car radio. Hearing the same Maroon 5 song over and over again suited her ears more than anything I was offering.
“Everyone remembers their first time drinking… What about your first time.. you know?”. I looked over at her sheepishly. Bridget doesn’t like to talk, but she is a great communicator. As I turned toward the passenger seat her face dropped, her eyes rolled, and she reached to turn the radio even louder before crossing her arms across her chest.
“I remember the first time I met you”, she said half looking out the window. I laughed and remained quiet. Letting my silence ask her to tell me more. Bridget turned toward me, unfolded her arms, and turned the radio down just enough to be heard. “ You were just as annoying as you are now” she said. With the first smile that came across her face all day.
Carelessness. I lost my one true love. I started drinking. The first thing I know, I’m in a card game. Then I’m in a crap game. I wake up in a pool hall. Then this big Mexican lady drags me off the table, takes me to Philadelphia. She leaves me alone in her house, and it burns down. I wind up in Phoenix. I get a job as a Chinaman. I start working in a dime store, and move in with a 13-year-old girl. Then this big Mexican lady from Philadelphia comes in and burns the house down. I go down to Dallas. I get a job as a “before” in a Charles Atlas “before and after” ad. I move in with a delivery boy who can cook fantastic chili and hot dogs. Then this 13-year-old girl from Phoenix comes and burns the house down. The delivery boy — he ain’t so mild: He gives her the knife, and the next thing I know I’m in Omaha. It’s so cold there, by this time I’m robbing my own bicycles and frying my own fish. I stumble onto some luck and get a job as a carburetor out at the hot-rod races every Thursday night. I move in with a high school teacher who also does a little plumbing on the side, who ain’t much to look at, but who’s built a special kind of refrigerator that can turn newspaper into lettuce. Everything’s going good until that delivery boy shows up and tries to knife me. Needless to say, he burned the house down, and I hit the road. The first guy that picked me up asked me if I wanted to be a star. What could I say?