Spwinkles
And 2 other flash fiction stories
This flash fiction story was a prompt/contest from Chuck Palahniuk via his Substack. The prompt was to write a one-paragraph story all in baby talk. The further away the story was from the baby talk, the better. Below is my winning submission, SPWINKLES.
SPWINKLES
C’meer Spwinkles, Daddy got a spwetial tweet, for my baby, Swpinky-Winky. It’s fwench fwys and a big ol’ cheese bwurger! Yew gwomna wuv it swooooo much Spwinky-Doodle-Dandy, c’omeer and gimmie a kissy poo. Wets pwut Spwinkies witt’ew collar on ok? We gotta go for a itsy bitsy, witt’ew drive, ok? Baby boy wanna go to the park? Does that sound nice? Here, let me get yew up in the car. I know baby boy. Those wegs don’t wealy work any more huh, bubbas? It’s ok, baby boy, daddy gotchoo. That’s a good boy! Who’s my witt’ew man, man? That’s it, yew eat your fwench fwys back there and daddy gotta drive ok? Ok spwinkies come on outta’ tha’ car! It’s ok, Daddy’s not mad you went potty. I know you can’t hewp it bubbas. C’mon boy! C’mon! I know baby boy. I know it’s not the park. C’mon, c’mon, I know baby, I know. Daddy doesn’t want to be here either. Daddy wuvs yew swoooooo much baby boy. I promise it will all be ok. Everything’s going to be ok now.
Hello, yes, checking in for Sprinkles. Yes, I’m sure it’s time. Thank you.
The story below was my original submission to Chuck Palahniuk’s “Baby Talk” literary contest. Many others in the comments on Chuck’s page loved this story more, and I think it has great merit as a flash fiction piece. That being said, it does not subvert the baby talk much as the perspective is from a toddler telling the story.
Fun side note, this story was inspired by my actual lived experience.
WOLLERCWOSTER
Dada wook happy. Dada sway, “Me wanna show yew new wollercwoaster I jwust buiwt. Yew gowing twoo wove it!” Dada fwace wook wike gween twash cwan man. Gwumpy Dada but big happy fwace twoo. I nwo wunderstand. Mama, Dada, make angwy fwace before bubba, an night, night. Mama, Dada, Yew big angwy twalk in kwichen. Make Pweter sad. Pweter hwerd Dada sway ,“Wat kid shwould have bween a bwo jwob! He wuined my wife! Yew wuined my wife!” But, Dada happy fwace now. Dada an me wok to swee new wollercwoster, Dada buiwd. Dada pwick me up. Put me in wollercwoster sweet. “Dada, come twoo?” Me axe. Dada sway, “Nwo, wis spwecial wide jwust fo yew, Pweter. It a dwouble woop de woop. Yew’ll bwe fwirst two wide it. I swee yew at bwottom.” Dada pwoosh big wed bwutton. Wollercwoster go up! Up! Up! Swo fwun! Pwetty bwoo skwy, wike Mama’s ewyes. Oh! And a bwurdy! Hi, Bwurdy! But I swee Dada no wemebwer sweet bwelt. “DADA NO SWEEET BWELT!” Me yew. Wook dwoun at top of big hiw. No Dada, but me swee Mama wunning. Mama cwy weal big. “HI MAMA! PWETER UP HIGH! PWETER FWYING!”
This last flash fiction piece was a prompt for submission through Punk Noir Magazine. The prompt was pulled from a Bukowski quote, “Find what you love and let it kill you.” Looking back, maybe I leaned a little heavy into the punk element (I was heavily involved in the punk/hardcore scene in the 90s and 00s). Either way, I thought this piece would fit in great with this little trio of flash fiction stories.
Thanks and enjoy!
TRUE TILL DEATH!
Every time I leave the house, and even sometimes at home, I draw a big black X on the back of each of my hands with a permanent marker. The double Xs are my way of showing the world what I’m all about—straight edge—true till fucking death!
It’s Friday, and Youth of Today is playing at 9 pm. Everybody’s going to be there. Everyone will be sporting their two Xs. I want to be more—make a quick stop at the corner bodega; they’ve got Sharpie magnums for $3.99 plus tax. Worth every penny. I inscribe a big X on the whole front of my torso, and two more down the front of each of my shins and forearms. My blood is on fire. I’m a straight edge god!
Getting to the show, there’s this guy in line who has eight X’s drawn on himself, and I draw another three on my face. One crisscrossing the middle of my face and one on each cheek. My head feels woozy; I’m drunk on Edge!
Stumbling up to the stage, there are three guys with even more X’s between them. I strip down to my boxers and ask this girl standing next to me to black out my whole back, everything but a negative space X in the center, then I fill every nook and cranny with X’s. feet, eyelids, teeth. X’s, X’s, more X’s! My heart is piercing in my chest, meaty nails thumping. I’m nailed to the X!
Youth of Today starts, I start dancing, and the sharpie starts running down my sweaty body, seeping into my armpits, eyeballs, and asshole. The last thing I remember seeing was a man in a uniform crossing his arms with paddles in his hands, saying, “Everyone, stand clear!”
I’m TRUE TILL DEATH!
these are all great, but I think spwinkles works so well because the reader picks up little clues along the way (the legs, the fries, the potty in the car) that lead to the realization it's heartbreak we're watching. and you cap it off by the jarring shift back to "normal" talk at check-in.
Man, Spwinkles was so good! A well deserved win!!