Samantha

In case any of you wondered what it was I wrote at the Forging Creativity into Fiction Craft seminar at the UCLA Writers Fair, here it is.  It isn't Pulitzer Prize material - I scribbled it on the back of a page - but I still felt pretty good about the burst of inspiration I had while writing it.  I just hope I can tap into that again in the future.

Enjoy, or tear apart.  This was really just a quick ten-minute assignment...

I looked down at Samantha.  She was shocked as though I'd just finger-banged her cat.

"Why do I have cheese in my pocket?" she asked.

I shrugged.  "I dunno.  What else have you got?"

Samantha sifted through her pocket, taking out each item and examining it.

"Lint, obviously," she said.  "My car keys, your whiskey flask -"  She paused to take a deep swig of it, and then tossed it back empty to me.  "- and this cheese."

I looked at her hand and saw a long, soft cheese stick white and fat like a termite queen.  It was strange since she: A) was allergic to cheese, and B) hated even the sound of the word.

"Maybe it's a new sex toy?" I said.

"Yeah, that's it," she said.  "I got tired of banging my husband, so goddamn CHEESE is the next best thing.  Jesus!  I'd turn lesbian in a heartbeat and hook up with Bea Arthur's corpse before sticking this thing in me!"