Punch Out

My latest entry in Flash Friday’s weekly contest. We had to incorporate the concept of a “missed deadline” based on the below photo prompt:


Looking back on it now was funny. Not funny like “ha-ha,” but funny, like ironic.

We had on yesterday’s jeans, yesterday’s underwear, yesterday’s unbrushed teeth, yesterday’s empty stomachs. But we had today’s don’t-give-a-fuck.

They said I was whimsical with weary eyes. Punch in, punch out, and be content. Settle down.

But there were no cubicles out there, no paper bag lunches, and no neckties.

No stoplights. No clocks.

Just mountain lions and avalanches and the biting cold. But goddammit it made you feel alive.

The guy had a brown loincloth over his junk – in that weather – and a bow and arrow latched to his shoulders. Stepped right out of a storybook to pierce our flesh.

Maybe it was funny like ha-ha because we had forgotten about nature’s deadliest predator: Man.

I heard people’s feet shuffling. I was late, like they thought I would be. So, I climbed in. Wood pine smelled pleasant. It was dark.

Death was comfortable.

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