The Shortest Straw
By: Kaiser Wilhelm II
“Now then… who cares to try their hooves at luck today?”
Blood. So. Much. Blood. Every orifice the small pink and purple unicorn fluffy possessed was oozing so. Much. Blood. The stumps it had retained from previous sessions remained raw and untreated, occasionally cut and pierced to ensure a consistent, healthy flow. Well, healthy as long as the flow rate was all that mattered. Where it was going was perhaps not as healthy. All that remained was to risk its last hoof, the final coinflip the universe had so kindly sought to beat the everliving fuck out of this fluffy with.
“Looks like I drew a pretty nice catch, hm?”
The woman stood above the fluffy with a kind, motherly gait. If one wasn’t wise to her antics, they’d assume she was assisting the poor thing. She just…
She just seemed like a nice lady.
Lucky could still recall their first encounter. The navy dress. Oh, how beautiful she was, all done up with a tight blue dress and black heels, matched with a finely understated pair of glasses and large braid cascading down her front. If Lucky could grasp the concept of a saint, it was safe to say she would be the spitting image of one. Treats abound, endless cartoons, gentle grooming sessions and a warm bed right next to the nice lady. How kind she was. How kind she was.
Whoever this was, clearly her sentiments were of a less generous variety. She loved games, as did the nice lady. She dressed nicely, as the other lady did. She even sounded similar. And yet there was something so very, very wrong. This woman was not the same person, no matter how many pores lined up or slightly strange yet familiar sounding flavors of “dearie” she uttered. This woman did not love. She did not even like. She seemed to portray the emotions well, even better than the other lady. And yet they were so cold, so sterile, so untrue, no matter how wide she beamed or softly she cooed.
“Now then, pick a straw, and if you get a longer one, you win!”
How excited Lucky was for the prospect of winning the first time. Even moreso that there may be a reward at the end of the game. And how hard could it honestly be? Just pick a straw.
Just pick a straw.
“Just pick a straw, Lucky.”
Lucky reached out with what little energy there was left to use. Tap, tap, tap on a straw. Pink. Ironic.
“Well done Lucky! You got a longer straw! But, there’s something you should know… no. You’re a smart little one. You’ll figure it out.”
The woman dropped the straws and left the room to go to where the nice lady lived. Maybe she would come save Lucky. Lucky suddenly felt very doubtful of that fact as the straws became clearer.
How can there be a shortest straw when they’re all the same?
So, first time writing in a long time. Hopefully this hits some decent notes. Short but “sweet”. I’ll probably post some more in the coming future assuming any of it is worth a damn. Here’s hoping. God bless.