The circus is ending and nobody wants to go home. Except for the tattooed man. He’s got a business, a dry cleaners that he bought because he knows that show business isn’t going to last forever. Nowadays many women have tattoos, so the whole novelty of seeing a sinking battleship and the words Remember the Maine! inked onto a man’s chest just isn’t what it once was.
Besides, he left Earl to run the place, and everybody knows that Earl can’t be trusted. So the tattooed man, he needs to get home. Before Earl drinks the place out of business.
Every Monday for as long as I remember and don’t burn out, I’ll be posting a micro-fiction of 100 words or less. Anyone who decides to join the
party circus should drop me a line to get linkage to your efforts.
Other Micro Monday writers:
Pete Lit (our inadvertent founder)
Found a chair beside a window
Found a place where I belong
Inside myself there is no question
Just the jangle of our brain
Three times four is twenty-seven
Only fragments still remain
(via iPod Shuffle)