8thdayfiction

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

It Was Fun

It was fun. I had a good time.

No, nothing happened. I told him beforehand that there wasn’t going to be any funny business, and he was cool with that. He even saw to it that we had separate beds.

And like I said, it was…look, I’m not complaining. I went on a nice overnight trip and he paid for it and I’m not going to complain about that. And it all happened so fast; I like someone who’s spontaneous, so that was nice. And the food was good, the staff were friendly and attentive, and they had a really nice pool there. It was great. Really.

It really was. What?

OK, fine. Just between you and me? It was a little–just a little, teensy bit–disappointing.

Don’t look at me like that. Put yourself in my position: Eddie Money shows up at your door and says “I got two tickets to Paradise. Won’t you pack your bags and leave tonight?” I mean, I’m thinking “Paradise” means, I don’t know, the Bahamas or something. Someplace exotic. I mean, he’s a rock star, he’s traveled the world. Surely he’s seen Paradise. And, I was thinking extended stay rather than overnight. I mean, you don’t go overnight to the Bahamas.

OK, fine–you’re right. Using my logic, a wealthy rock star could go on an overnight trip to the Bahamas, because he probably owns a private jet. Fine. YA GOT ME. Happy?

So–anyway–what I was not thinking was that he’d be taking me on a chartered bus trip to Paradise, PA for an overnight stay at the Best Western followed by a daytime tour of Amish country.

But it was fine. Any disappointment I felt was my own stupid fault for turning the trip in my head into something it wasn’t.

But I enjoyed myself, for real. I bought some homemade hand-churned Amish butter. It’s really good!

It was…fun. I had a good time.

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