Bleeding Fiction

(Since I refuse to have a day of totally negative thoughts, no matter how screwed I am, I present to you this work of short fiction, titled as above. I'm rather proud of it, so please spread word of its presence both far and wide. Tell everyone you know that it's here.)

I woke up groggy, my head clouded with so much cotton I could almost feel it coming out of my nose. I lurched out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom before my brain caught up with me enough to remember The Ring.

I felt it, heavy on my finger, but I looked anyway, just to be sure. It was always smaller than I expected; in my mind it was huge, big as my hand, and perfect and Green. The Ring was teasingly cool against my skin, that one single piece of… what is it? Crystal? Plastic? Glass?

I stared at it for a while, thinking, and by the time I looked away I was showered and dressed and standing in the sun, my headache a thing of the past. I was wearing shades, too, with perfect polarization. Rose-tinted glasses have nothing on Green.

There was a crowd of people at the roadside, waiting for the bus. I smiled when I saw them, thought Green Thoughts and I was gone. When you’ve got The Ring, you make your own transportation.

I worked then, at an internet sales desk. A trained monkey could’ve done my job, it was that easy. Just read from the script whenever someone calls. That was fine by me. I let my mouth run on autopilot and saved my Green Thoughts for The Ring. I used it to play Battlebots on my desk.

My girlfriend called while I was at work, told me we needed to talk, seriously talk, and asked me to make dinner. I complained. After all, what did I need to eat for? The Ring pumps me full of oxygen, makes my enzymes for me. Like Chlorophyll. But she started yelling, so I gave in. When I got home, though, I just wasn’t in the mood. I sat down to watch the Packers’ game and thought Green Thoughts so The Ring would take care of dinner.

The food turned out good; chicken quesadillas, heavy on the guacamole, and a broccoli rabe and avocado salad. When my girlfriend got home, I sat her down at the table, poured her a glass of wine and showed her dinner. “Look honey,” I said. “Green!”

She stormed out pretty quick, but she left a note behind. It had only two words, “Fuck Green,” and it was written with a Yellow hi-lighter. The Ring really hated that note.

I didn’t follow after. I didn’t want to think about my girlfriend, so I thought Green Thoughts instead and The Ring helped me forget her name.

I didn’t go in to work the next day, or the day after that. I was a little busy, thinking Green Thoughts. I felt like a kid again, my army men set up across the floor, battling in formation. But it was even better now. Thanks to The Ring, they moved on their own. I lay there and I played Captain Nemo in a Green submarine, Chuck Yeager in a Green airplane and Edmund Hillary with Green sherpas. The Ring told me those names, when I asked.

My manager called to ask why I hadn’t been in, then to threaten me with unemployment. He stopped calling when the phone company cut the line. It doesn’t really matter; if I need to talk to anyone, The Ring will help me out.

The power went next, but if I think Green Thoughts The Ring will make all the light I need. The Ring makes a TV that tunes me in to fifty-thousand channels, most of which no one else on earth will ever see. I got kicked out of my apartment a while back, too, so now I live in a house that The Ring made for me.

Sometimes I think about my girlfriend and I get lonely, but The Ring makes me something that takes care of that, too. And it’s better, much better, than it was with my girlfriend. I don’t need her anymore.

I don’t really need anyone.

Just The Ring, and my Green, Green Thoughts.