FNS: Do What You Love by R.A. Roth


Every Friday night we feature a short story, essay, personal narrative,
poem, spoken word, or short film for your enjoyment.

Tonight’s flash fiction is from R.A. Roth

On our way back to the castle. I am plumb tuckered out from terrorizing a little girl and her strange companions. Never seen a walking pile of straw before, or a walking pile of tin for that matter. I have seen my share of lions, but never one that stood on his hind legs. What is the world coming to?

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Today, I made a motion that the Winged Monkeys should give Her Wickedness notice and find better employment. The “leader” refused to let my motion come to the floor. I guess Robert’s Rules of Order only apply to stupid ideas, such as agreeing to wear humiliating organ grinder costumes while on the job.

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Shop steward sent out a memo informing us that the break room shall be closed for renovation until the 5th. Great. Now where I am going to fling my poo in peace and quiet?

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Meeting at 4 p.m. Know what that means? Overtime. Great. That’s really going to cut into my poo flinging.

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Everyone please enjoy this video of my son King’s holiday recital. He’s the second second-banana on the left. Excuse the blurry quality of the footage. More poo flinging than usual.

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My ten year high school reunion is in nine days. The poo’s really gonna fling that night!

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To those that have messaged their concerns over my so-called obsessing with flinging poo: I don’t have a poo flinging problem. I can stop when I want to. I just like flinging poo. Please take a long look in the mirror. All of you fling as much or more poo than I do. I don’t want to name names, but someone with the initials “D.K.” flings not just poo but also throws full-sized barrels at Italian men in overalls.

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Green Face has arranged a sit-down with the little girl so they can iron out their difficulties. Yeah, right. Her word isn’t worth a fistful of poo.

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Okay, I admit I do have a tendency to frame the world in terms of poo flinging. But it’s just how I am wired. I can’t help that I happened to find poo flinging the most stimulating form of recreation. It relaxes me after a hard day of terrorizing Winkies and firebombing the Lollipop Guild. Besides, I’ll quit flinging poo when all of you quit masturbating furiously in front of tour groups. Yeah, I thought so.

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And I’ll attend another stupid late day staff meeting when monkeys fly. I mean monkeys that can fly despite the lack of appendages necessary to achieve flight. Now that would be some freaky poo.

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To make an amazing banana smoothie even more amazing, add a scoop of fresh morning poo, preferably a poo squeezed out after a long night beer guzzling and snacking on peanuts.


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The sit-down with the little girl didn’t go well. She brought her crew along and one of them, the straw man I think, snuck in a bucket of water. Poor stupid witch didn’t know what hit her. She melted faster than a scoop of banana poo ice cream in the sun.

Now we’re all out of a job. I won’t be here too often. I got to post a résumé on Monster.com and apply for unemployment. Wonder if there are any poo flinging jobs available?

Like they say: do what you love.

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Guess which lucky monkey just landed a new job as a professional poo flinger? I am soooo excited! The interviewer fell in love with my poo flinging technique, in spite of fouling an autographed picture of Dick Cheney and breaking her mock Peabody. I think I have found my calling in life. Thanks, Fox News! I won’t let you down!

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R.A. Roth’s work has appeared at The Molotov Cocktail and Noble / Gas Qtrly, which hosts his new political column, “Pantagruel.” He enjoys kayaking in chemical runoff, folding the laundry of strangers against their will and other ersatz hobbies. No animals were harmed in the making of this bio. He tweets under the handle @fantagor.

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