Miniature Fiction

My bosses didn’t know it yet, but tonight was my last show, I’m quitting this bitch. My time as anchor on America’s last highly rated news program was over, I had enough of bullshit TV journalism. So tonight I was going to sign off by telling everyone what I thought of them: my bosses, coworkers, and especially the American public, those bastards.

Technically today is one of our rare paid holidays, but someone has to go to work, and this time that lucky someone is me. Row after row of empty cubicles greeted me as I opened the door. I wasn’t bothered, all those empty cubicles showed how empty my soul felt every day. 

I got invited to the Apple corporate party by mistake; I didn’t work there but I got a special invitation in the mail. So, I went, and ended up having a very interesting conversation with someone named Johnny Ive - he ended up asking me to meet in his office on Monday. Now what was i supposed to do about that?

Hugh was late to develop and early to deteriorate: He had been the last of his classmates to grow, the last to have his voice drop an octave and a half, and now he was the first to watch crows feet form along the edges of his dull grey eyes and his hair became thinner by the hour. It wasn’t fair; none of it was fair. It should’ve been clear to his teammates why he was such an irrepressible asshole on the softball field, but they all seemed dumbfounded as to why Hugh would treat recreational co-ed softball like it was war.

- C.D. Carter

Follow @CDCarter13 and check out his new ebook on the Kindle Store Here

The editorial team heard the saleswoman like a siren, coughing through the phlegm perpetually stuck in her throat. The scribes were horrified by the warning hacks ringing down the hallway; single tears moved in rivulets down their haggard faces. Sales was here, and it was angry.

- C.D. Carter

Follow C.D. on the twitter machine @CDCarter13

Janice knew about the unwritten rule not to show up to work with a fever, she blantantly ignored it. With a temperature approaching 103 degrees she had guzzled a full battery of drugs just to stay upright and get to work. When she got everyone else horribly ill it would all be worth it.

The bus’s windshield wipers, clearing away the grey, frozen drizzle of the dead March afternoon, were driving me ever closer to the brink of insanity, that place where anyone can venture if pushed far enough by an infernal racket. The smack-smack of those wretched wipers burned through my fraying sense of reality — of what is real and what isn’t — until I found myself on the bus, five and a half hours after I had boarded it, stark naked and gnawing on my Kindle.

- C.D. Carter

C.D. Carter is a reporter, author of zombie stories, writer for The Fake Football and Sports Jerks. Fantasy Sports Writers Association member. His work  has been featured in the New York Times. Follow C.D. on Twitter @CDCarter13

C.D. Carter has also recently been writing about how poker can be applied to fantasy sports, check it out… Poker Lessons Applied to Fantasy Football

Check out C.D. Carter’s Amazon page for more of his fiction writing goodness Amazon.com

I examined my personal retirement report and knew I wasn’t contributing enough. Sure, I had the companies plan as well, but deep down we all knew they’d never pay us after we stopped working. It was just so hard to put off money when I could be buying DVD’s or pick-up trucks.

My co-worker wasn’t happy with me; I didn’t do anything wrong, but I also knew there was no point in arguing with someone’s emotions. You could cut the tension with a knife, but maybe I’d cut them instead…

I wasn’t thinking,  my boss, the CEO of the company, had me write his emails all the time. As his assistant practically my entire job was performing his menial tasks. When I finally had enough of the companies political leanings I sent a company wide email, and out of habit signed my boss’s name.

He had a newborn at home, a 9-5 job that wasn’t exactly stimulating, and a side job that required way more effort than it was probably worth. So, his morning coffee at work was very important to him, it allowed him to overcome his crushing sleepiness. When he saw no coffee was available he immediately marched into the bosses office and quit on the spot.

It was an unspoken rule that no one could leave the office until the boss did, even if their work day was over. I became convinced he was toying with us when on one particular Friday he was still there past 7 pm.