The New Yucker – do you have an idea why they won’t print this?
Question by nicklemeout: The New Yucker – do you have an idea why they won’t print this?
I did not write this with the intention of it getting printed… I wrote it to see if it was possible and to see if I could accomplish it some seven years ago. It’s a short story, but unfortunately I can’t post it in it’s entirety….. argh, I’ve had to delete the main course just to get some of this on here…
A Day in the Life of Us
I woke Myself up at a quarter to nine. I was never one to sleep in late on a Saturday, just too much to do with all the free time that the weekend had to offer. Myself, on the other hand, always slept in late into the afternoon hours. I never knew how Myself could do it, but every weekend was the same.
“Wake up sleepy head,” I said while pulling the blankets off Myself.
Rolling to the other side of the bed Myself just gave the sleepy reply of, “Mmmpphhh. Just five more minutes.”
“Come on, get up. Don’t forget what’s going on today – or has the alcohol finally crippled that brain? Anyways, breakfast will be on the table soon!” I cheerily said.
Knowing that it would take Myself a bit to get around, I started to go through the piles of clothes on the floor that Myself just sporadically threw on the floor before going to bed to look for something clean to wear. Upon finding some clean clothes, I threw them at Myself and said, “Get into the shower for a few, it will help.”
With that said, I walked into the kitchen to start breakfast. I knew that a nice hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast – along with several cups of coffee – would give Myself that get up and go feeling that breakfast provides.
I first started to brew the coffee, since it would arouse the sleeping beast that Myself could be. As soon as the aroma of the coffee began to fill the house, I saw Myself get up and slowly trudge towards the bathroom.
While pouring a cup of coffee I just smiled at Myself. Myself, on the other hand, shot a tired ugly look of `just a few more hours sleep, bastard.’
While I was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, Myself looked deep into the mirror. It had been a long hard night of partying – the kind that I never took part in – and the look of the face in the mirror, the smoky-acidy taste in the mouth, and the all around feeling of grimy grossness told Myself that it had been a great night. Raising a toothbrush to a smile that only a chicken could appreciate, Myself proceeded with the task of a complete and total body wash down.
Back in the kitchen, I was just beginning to cook the eggs when there was a knock at the door. Turning the flame off, I walked to the door to see who it was.
It was, of course, Me.
“What`s up?” I said opening the door to let Me in.
“Nothin`. Just thought about stopping by to see what was going on around here,” was the reply as I took the coat from Me and hung it on the coat hanger.
Walking into the kitchen I turned to Me and asked, “Want some eggs? It’ll only take a few moments to get them started up.”
“Sure, why not. It’ll be nice to have something in the gullet,” came the reply from Me while pouring a cup of coffee. “Want a refill?”
“Sure, it’s on the table.”
“So how long was Myself out for?”
“Oh, until 3 am. It’s always the same with Myself, out partying until the sun comes up. Well, that is except for last night – had to cut it short so as not to miss the wedding.”
“What? Who would marry Myself?”
“No, it’s a distant relation to Myself that is getting married,” I said while grabbing some eggs from the fridge.
“Well that sounds like fun!” came a sarcastic reply from Me.
Cracking eggs into an omelet, I looked at Me and continued with, “Any plans today?”
“Nah. It’s a couch day. Sugar or cream?”
“No, just straight.”
“Ugh, that’s nasty. Gotta have coffee like women – all sweet and creamy,” came the typical response that only Me could give.
Finishing up the breakfast meal, I walked over and took the cup of coffee that was poured by Me. I took a long swig out of it and then began the task of setting the table. By this time, Myself had finally finished showering. As was typical, Myself walked out of the shower with only a towel on.
“Forgot to grab some clothes,” Myself said to no one in particular while walking towards the bedroom. Just before reaching the room, the doorbell rang.
“Got it!” I said, springing from the table towards the front door.
“Don’t bother,” Myself replied while opening the door.
“Hello. Nice towel,” a voice giggled.
It was You.
(damn you 5000 character limit!)
Best answer:
Answer by SME
There are other mags beside the New Yorker. Send it to all of them. You never know what they are buying. You may get lucky.
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