This is a blog for sharing art of all kinds. If you're in or around Athens, GA and write poetry, songs, flash fiction, short stories, anything really and want to post, send your stuff to Shannon at shannonmcmorlandfoley@gmail.com or to Scott at lionoftheday@gmail.com. Photography and photographed artwork also welcome! Include a short bio and a pic if you want and any link to a personal website or blog you want to share.

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Sunday, April 17, 2011

A Dialog Between Two Young Individuals in a Desert During The Late Years of the War of the End of the World



             A: “Hey! Which side?”
B: “Wha..?”
A: “Which side, which side are you on?”
B: “Which side of what?”
A: “Of the war, of course.”
B: “Oh. I'm not sure; what are my choices?”
A: “Good or evil.”
B: “Ah. Well, then, I guess I'm evil.”
A: “I'm good, myself.”
B: “Hm.”

A: “Do you mind if I sit?”
B: “Sure, go ahead”
A: “Ahhhhhhhh...So, what are you doing out here?”
B: “I dunno...I guess I just like it out here. It's peaceful. What about you?”
A: “I'm trying to get away from the war.”
B: “Why go all the way to the desert?”
A: “Well, it's easier than the moon, and more effective than the library.”
B: “Ah. So basically, you just like it out here.”
A: “Yep.”

A: “Why is your hair so long?”
B: “Because I'm a girl.”
A: “Really?!”
B: “What?”
A: “Well...”
B: “What is it?”
A: “I've never seen a girl before.”
B: “Come on.”
A: “No, really! My Dad raised me and my brother after my mom died, when I was born. We lived in a basement until my Dad died; when I came up, I found a completely deserted town, just outside this desert.”
B: “Wow.”
B: “So what happened to your brother?”
A: “He died in the war.”
B: “Oh.”

A: “So what about you?”
B: “Huh?”
A: “What's your story?”
B: “Oh. I'm an only child. My Dad was one of the survivors from the Hammerhead.”
A:No! The submarine?”
B: “Yeah, the submarine. He came home when I was sixteen. He was...disturbed. He would fidget with this little mini submarine all the time. My mom tried to help him, he yelled at her a lot. Me too. Then one day, my mom left.”
A: “I'm sorry.”
B: “It gets worse. My Dad killed himself a few days later. After that, I got a job as a grocery store clerk, I wrote poems on my breaks.”
A: “Christ, I'm sorry.”
B: “It's okay, I get along pretty well.”

A: “You're not going to kill me, are you?”
B: “Why would I do that?”
A: “Well, you know...”
B: “What?”
A: “Well, you being evil and all, and me—”
B: “Oh, that. Nah, I'm not gonna kill you.”
A: “Why not?”
B: “Because you're like me.”
A: “How so?”
B: “You like deserts.”
A: “Oh.”
A: “You promise?”
B: “No.”

A: “Well, I guess I'd better leave pretty soon.”
B: “Me too.”
A: “Why?”
B: “What?”
A: “What do you have to go back to?”
B: “Oh. I'm a soldier.”
A: “What!?”
B: “Oh, don't look so shocked.”
B: “Look, I'm sorry. You really bought the grocery store thing? Christ man, how many grocery stores do you see around here?”
B: “Well, I'm leaving now.”
A: “Why did you say, 'What are my choices'?”
B: “What?”
A: “When I asked you which side, why did you ask what your choices where.”
B: “I wanted to see what you would answer.”
A: “Fuck you.”
B: “Pretty strong. And just here did you learn that phrase?”
A: “My dad said it a lot when he yelled at my mom.”

Timothy J. Foley

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