Yesterday I came ‘this close’ to starting World War III. Oops. I had rung Tony to talk about how we were going to put the pressure on Russia big-time. But after a bit of a hoo hole, I realised I was talking to Vlad. He laughed it off good-naturedly and we chatted about what our daughters were up to.
However the Chief of Staff was livid, and yelled at me for twenty minutes saying how I’d just fucked up 15 years of work. He’s even put dinky labels on the phones so I don’t fuck up again. I might be Texan, but I’m not stupid.
For 100 consecutive days I will write and post a short story (about 100 words) incorporating a randomly selected word from Afterliff: A new dictionary of things there should be words for.
hoo hole n.
The uncomfortable pause that follows phoning somebody and completely forgetting who it is you’ve called.
prayle grove n.
The fear in the eyes of a groom as the best man stands up to speak.