Short Stories

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group holds an annual anthology contest. J.R. Wudel wrote this short story to win the contest, gain fame and glory and become a legendary story himself. The rules of the competition specified three main points: the subject dark matter, the genre, science fiction, and the word count: 4,500 to 6,000.

J.R. Wudel confesses to not being a writer of science fiction. Indeed, he felt foolish when his then fiancée pointed out upon reading his first draft that radio waves are different than microwaves. However, he endeavored on, confident in the tale he wove. Then he noticed on the website of the company that would publish the anthology that they didn’t except salacious or R-rated material. A seed of doubt began to grow in his mind. The story opens:

“It’s just like cleaning my pipe,” said Butter as he guided the white, triangular tube, about the size of a body pillow, through the airlock and out into the darkness of space using the joystick between his fingers. A funk-disco soundtrack of his favorite vintage porn played in his head: an attempt to smother the moans of the monitors in front of him. He wondered if the others had picked up on his euphemism…”

J.R. Wudel thought his story miles away from addressing lustful sexual desire (you be the judge) and admits that he doesn’t work for the MPAA. He submitted the following story one day before its deadline

Less than a half hour after submitting the story J.R. Wudel realized he had made a serious omission, failing to address a key element of the story, he began his revisions. J.R. Wudel would have rather submitted the following story after hearing from the IWSG. He never did.

A straightforward sort of fable served up for your enjoyment.