…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.


Lou walked through the store back to his office, shut the door behind him, and flopped down at his desk.

He looked at the unkempt stack of invoices sitting there next to his laptop, thinking about how he’d be spending the next few hours transferring the information from those slips of paper to some spreadsheet on the computer in an attempt to make some kind of sense out of it.

Lou sat back and scratched his head, deciding to procrastinate for a few minutes more; maybe if he stared hard enough at the paperwork, the information would enter itself into the computer, or, better yet, maybe it would just magically disappear.

“Magically”. He hadn’t thought about magic for a long time, but now he couldn’t not think of it, and think of Dad.

As he heard the sound of an angry customer yelling at Lou, Jr., who was manning the register on the other side of the office door, Lou took stock of things once again. Dad had been royalty–royalty!–blessed with infinite riches, and yet somehow, here he was at middle age: Lou Midas, owner and manager of a piddly chain of discount muffler shops.

He slowly picked himself up out of the chair to go put out the fire that had started between Lou, Jr. and the customer, once again realizing he kind of hated his life and wondering where, exactly, it had all gone so wrong.


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One thought on “Lou

  1. What a sad story! To think the son of King Midas has to sell mufflers. And now I must remove our girls from playing in the fireplace…

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