Stories Are Boring, Read My Fables Instead

I will never write a good story for you, I promise

Mar 23, 2024

Let’s be honest: stories are boring. They are so terrible and so boring, especially when they are good. We have too many of them. We can barely keep up. There are too many characters. So much plot. So much talking. Events. Twists. Turns. More talking. Character development. A car blows up. Somebody cries. Deception. A dog is running around. Somebody falls out a window. My god. What the CRUD is going on?? I will never do this to you, reader. I will never make you read a story. You can have my honest word on it.

A Fable About Two People Who Desperately Love Each Other But Can’t Get Their Freaking Act Together Oh My God What Is Wrong With You Two

Chapter 1
Charlie lay down on the bed next to Josephine. Can I hug you Josephine. No Charlie.
This was August.
Chapter 2
Autumn. Institute of Art. Josephine was taking night classes. In poetry and pigs.
You should quit, said Charlie.
You are insufferable when you say that, said Josephine.
No no this is love, said Charlie. This is what it feels like.
Josephine looked out the window.
The world holds little magic for me, Charlie. I am interested in more.
Chapter 3
Charlie moved to Arizona. The land of dumb video heat.
Hi Josephine, I hope you are doing well in poetry and pigs.
Send.
Josephine was asleep. Dreaming of others.
Chapter 4
Charlie met a person named Alice. They kissed in a theater.
Josephine met a person named Bailey. They kissed in a restaurant booth.
Is this love?
Close enough, everyone agreed.
Dating!
Chapter 5
Winter. Too much of it.
Charlie realized that he didn’t love Alice. Josephine grew to dislike Bailey.
Josephine wrote very bad poems.
Charlie texted, Can I read your poems, Josephine?
No Charlie they are bad. I love you.
What?
But I am unlovable, said Josephine.
No you are not, said Charlie.
And sometimes I mistake you for someone else, said Josephine.
Who?
A memory of a thief. Someone who stole something tender from me, which I would have glady given you, had I known you, back then.
Back when?
Back then.
But Josephine this is madness, said Charlie. I am a baseball coach. And you are a poet.
So, said Josephine.
We misunderstand each other astronomically, said Charlie. We run in loops.
No we do not, said Josephine.
Yes, we do, said Charlie. I approach. You retreat. Then I retreat. Then you approach. Then I become afraid. Then you become afraid. Then I become brave. Then you believe I love someone else. Then you become indifferent. Then I retreat. Then you approach. Then we both become afraid. Then we almost cry. Then we almost laugh. Then I ask you about your poems and you say No Charlie they are bad.
No I do not, said Josephine.
Nightfall in Ohio. (Josephine)
(to be continued)