That’s How the Cookie Crumbles

Note: The following story is a work of fiction. And resemblance to actual events and characters, dead or alive, is a miracle.

I had to do something about this rut I’m in. I’m close to broke, I’ve got no job, and my flat’s run by rats. I need to fix this. Time to call in some old favours. Where the Hell is that phone?

I dialed that ever so familiar number. One ring. Someone answered. Cool.
“You’ve reached the Chronicle editor-in-chief’s office. How may I help you?” A female voice told me. Must be the secretary. Or the receptionist. Sexy.
“Yeah, um, can I speak to the editor?”
“I am the editor” Oh. OH. She’s the editor? You’ve got to be kidding me. Why the Hell is SHE the editor?
“Wait, what happened to the old editor?”
“The old editor died.”
“Damn that son of a bitch!”
“That son of a bitch happens to be my father.” Shit.
“Oh. Sorry about that.” Fuck. I hung up.
Great. I just shot my chance to Hell.

END OF PART 1
to be continued

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6 Responses to “That’s How the Cookie Crumbles”

  1. good start ……
    waiting for more 🙂

  2. […] The Ghostwriter's Blog Just another WordPress.com weblog « That’s How the Cookie Crumbles […]

  3. […] That’s How the Cookie Crumbles (Part 2) Note: This is part 2. Here’s part 1. […]

  4. […] That’s How the Cookie Crumbles (part 3) Note: Here’s part 2. Here’s part 1. […]

  5. lol!that made me laugh so hard…

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