Wear and tear

This piece was written for the Six Sentence Challenge, with the prompt word of ‘wear’. I’ve actually had a few pieces accepted this week but I decided not to waste a good whinge. 🙂

All these rejections are starting to wear me down (if they were the old paper rejection slips I’d have enough to refurbish the interior of the Sydney Opera House), so I’ve decided to create a few of my own writer sites to ensure I get published somewhere.

The first off the drawing board is the logical extension of the Alphabet Soup of gender/sexual identity in that it will particularly focus on Z writers i.e. zoologically-indeterminate, non-binary in terms of species and those transitioning to a new species (e.g. I’m on a journey to becoming a wombat).

Next will be ‘I Think I’ll Go Eat Worms’ for those feeing unloved and/or hated, like pun-addicted formerly redheaded men, women who remain effortlessly thin, and vegans.

Work is well-advanced on ‘Put another prawn on the barbie’ for recalcitrant Australian writers who insist on having a ‘u’ in ‘colour’, incorrigibly mention places unfamiliar to anyone west of Hawaii and stubbornly insist on local vernacular (e.g. as useless as an ashtray on a motorbike).

Sure to be popular is ‘I only see dead people’ for writers who are genetically incapable of imagining fairies, dragons and apocalyptic futures (e.g. Donald Trump winning a second term and declaring himself President for Life).

Finally, I’m sure I had plans for those afflicted by short-term memory loss (I can’t find them where I’m sure I left them) but I know there should be an outlet for such masterpieces as ‘Call me … damn that whale, he’s even wrecked my memory’ and ‘It was the best of times, it was …. half-past four, I think’.