The Written Word by J. C. Enno

For Chloe, finding a good book is like discovering a place you never knew existed. The Beanstalk café bookstore is the type of hidden gem nestled in West End, Brisbane, that is the perfect place to hide away with a novel and drink coffee. All the locals who visit The Beanstalk know Chloe’s love for the written word. And when she starts receiving mysterious notes left for her, she begins to wonder whether she will discover that which she has found most elusive of all… love.

A short story of 7500 words. Available now on Amazon.

The Boring Hat (a short story)

Disclaimer: this short story is a work of fiction and is not for commercial purposes. Depiction of actual persons is not an accurate representation of these individuals and is purely a product of the author’s imagination. If this story is considered inappropriate/offensive then please contact the author and it will be removed immediately.

“We should be on Mars by now,” I said aloud.

Thankfully, no one was in my car at the time, so my musing was not heard by anyone other than possibly aliens examining our civilisation within a petri dish.

If we ever colonise Mars, the first thing I’ll make sure is the transport system won’t have gridlock. Forget about World Wars, how we have not managed to annihilate ourselves through road rage is beyond me.

The line of cars in front blurred into a summer haze making the destination seem like a mirage. I turn up the A/C and silently hate the fact I’m contributing to global warming, but also not wanting my vehicle to turn into an easy-bake oven.

I check the time.

Shit! I’m going to be late for my meeting. Like a personal insult, the hands on my Rolex™ were at angles ten and two making it look like a Cheshire-cat-clock-face laughing at me.

We live in a three dimensional world, and yet whoever designed Los Angeles roadways barely used the Z-axis. Seriously! If I ever meet the people responsible, I’m going to send them to Pluto.

Poor Pluto being reclassified as a minor planet. Like a neglected ninth child huddling in a sun starved corner of our solar system. And here I am, one number amongst several billion children of Earth, feeling just as neglected.

The universe is laughing I can tell. It’s laughing at Pluto, and it’s laughing at me.

“Well, I will not go quietly into the night!” I shout at my windscreen and bang my fist on the dashboard. I wince in pain.

I get out my phone and tweet, “Traffic is driving me nuts. Am going to build a tunnel boring machine and just start digging…” I lob my phone onto the passenger seat and tap my fingers on the steering wheel.

The problem is cost. Tunnel boring is not economically feasible. I’d probably need what? A ten-fold decrease in boring cost per mile for it to be feasible. I need to raise funds.

Venture capitalists? No way.

Maybe I could hit up Larry? Google is raking it in. But him and that dick, Zuckerberg, pushing A.I. as the next big thing is so irresponsible. Haven’t they watched Terminator? I don’t want to owe them.

I’ve got to keep it simple. Let’s see, tunnels? Why? Because people hate traffic. People hate being stuck in cans on wheels moving at a snail’s pace. People hate wasting time. People… it’s the people.

I need to get people to invest into tunnel boring. I need a brand that people will recognise so they know they’re investing in a solution that will make their lives better. Place the brand on the product, and sell it.

But tunnel boring is so… well… boring. Can’t get away from that fact, so I’ll sell something equally boring. Let’s see a pencil? A mug? A hat? Yes, a hat. The world’s most boring hat. That’ll do.

Go suck eggs Zuckerberg.