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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Comedy · #2259700
Flash fiction
The calendar doth inform me 'tis the day of my birth, thereby a night of riotous revelry must ensue. To dance the rhythms of the far off lands, to imbibe the fiery spirits that enflame both body and mind.

Garbed in finery, shod in golden thread-like style, I take the horseless carriage to the hostelry benamed for the debauchery within, BED.

"What is this bespangled, brightly shining flummery thou doth present to me?"

"Tis a cock of the tail, they nameth Margaretta."

My gullet it doth burn with pleasant effect, my head doth spin, my body bends to the music of the night.

"Ouch!" My shoes do cause me to cast my ankle awry. I sit, I suffer, I watch as others push and shove. Ere long a fight doth ensue. I hold my arm aloft to protect my head from a bottle which sets flight.

What light through yonder window breaks? 'Tis of the bluest hue. They come, the hoard with batons raised, they enter the affray. Soon all is quelled and calm ensues. And so my night doth end. For all arrest was qualified, so to the cells posthaste. I share a bed of solid steel with a woman of the night, until I can persuade the beak of my innocent demeanour.

shoes, calendar, light

217 words
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