A Cynical Little Story

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I was working on a group of stories about the Moon the other night, and this one wrote itself onto the page. It wasn't appropriate to the project, however, so I had to cast it out.  

Rather than leave it in the Graveyard of Flash Fiction that is my hard drive, I thought I'd share this one with you.

I must caution, however that it is very sexually implicit.

Traditional Romance Moon

I shouldn't be out here with you. Not with the sky so thronged with stars and the moon so, you know, big and bright. Not with the thoughts I'm thinking. My mother would be scandalized. She'd wash out my mind with soap. I'm not sure how that would work. But I'm certain she'd try. So I really. I. Really I shouldn't.

Oh. Yes, it is. Full, I mean. The moon.

My father thinks so too. That you're bad for me, I mean. He doesn't know you the way I do. All he thinks about is money and jobs and things like that. So of course he disapproves. Of you, I mean.

I don't think I've ever seen the moon so large as it is now.

No, really I shouldn't. What if we? If we? You know. We?

Oh, yes.

Yes.

Stop that. Stop that right now. Look at the moon. Isn't it beautiful? Honestly, it is. I mean, for real.

Now, is that helping anything? You should.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, my goodness. Oh. Ahhh. Oh.

That was nice. Did you like too? That was nice. Of course, we'll have to get married now.

Now don't look at me like that. You knew what the consequences would be when you did it. When we did it. I tried to stop you.  And it was nice, wasn't it? You know it was. It can be nice again. After, you know, the ceremony.

Right now, look at the moon. Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it perfect? Don't you just want it to stay this way forever?

 

Above: Photo courtesy of NASA.

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