There are only eight days left in the Month of Bad Decisions! Make sure you submit your story or poem soon. Meanwhile, enjoy today's story.
Played in Wet Cement
by Dan Schwartz
I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.
I was walking down the street and I saw this cement that was being put in this sidewalk and there was no one around, so with my finger I wrote the words “FUCK” and “SHIT” in there. I thought it was fun. The only thing was that I wasn’t able to wash my hands in time, so my finger actually became encased in cement. Which kind of sucked.
There was a big uproar in the community, trying to figure out who had written those obscene words in the sidewalk. They filled it in, sure, but they were very upset. Town leaders held hearings and everything. So I hid. No one was allowed to look at my hands. I wore oversized gloves, or sometimes a novelty foam finger.
I thought of borrowing a jackhammer to get the cement off, but I couldn't’t think of a way to do that without losing my finger as well. I liked that finger. It had always served me well. It was hard to type, sure, but I bought a giant keyboard to compensate. There was a bit of trouble with remembering not to hit myself in the face.
Eventually they did force everyone in town to show their hands, and when they found me out I was given a restraining order to not come within 100 miles of that sidewalk. That’s okay. I needed a fresh start. Somewhere, preferably, where no one knows about me, or what I did. That would be for the best.