Friday, February 1, 2008

32/366: Dan

We worked together in a head shop, back when such things still existed. At twenty-one, both his parents were dead, their families nowhere in sight. He worshipped George Thorogood. When he was dying from cancer, we smuggled cocaine into the hospital, for his pain. At the funeral, the relatives suddenly appeared.

4 comments:

Indigo Bunting said...

How like them.

Great short film here.

Aslo White said...

Thanks. I remember they all seemed to wonder what we were all doing there.

pk said...

Cor. The denouement you don't see coming even when you can see the whole thing at once anyway....I am so jealous because I was just too damned discursive to keep up a 365

Aslo White said...

It's about paring away right down to the bare bones of what is absolutely essential. I am getting so much out of this writing exercise.