By Christopher Ramsey
Music played loud and continuously at Ben’s house—usually something like Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Clap Hands, Here Comes Charlie’—and the air that wafted down from his mother’s second-floor studio smelled of linseed oil and marijuana. She was a painter of gigantic abstract collisions of color and texture; her art reduced our cosmic totality down to stick figures with long penises. Really long, erect penises.
“Mom’s in her cock phase,” Ben said. “She’ll work through it.”
“Does it freak you out?” I asked.
“Suspender pants freak me out. Giant cocks are just blips on the radar.”
Everything made sense at Ben’s house.
That first paragraph was so vivid that I really wanted this to be a novel, not flash 🙂 This is a woman I want to know (not personally, just in fiction)
Like taking a brief look into a real set of characters. A Winner.
“…her art reduced our cosmic totality down to stick figures with long penises.” Wonderful.
Wonderful stuff — love the sensory details that transport the reader into the scene: “(the air) smelled of linseed oil and marijuana” and “…gigantic abstract collisions of color and texture.” Beautiful bookend thoughts at the top and bottom, too, tying the piece up with a viscerally satisfying symmetry.
Excellent. A wonderful “capture” of a time & a place that feels both known and unknown.
This is such a great drabble with so many vivid images. Definitely deserved this month’s contest win. Congrats!
Ben is as cool a dude as Holden
Thank you all for the kind words.
Love it.