“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five minutes or less. Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park. Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.
Lucifer, Lord Of Kindergarten
Red. That was the crayon that Bobby used up the fastest. Every single crayon box that he touched was marked by the whittled nub left where the red crayon had been–at preschool, in the dentist’s waiting room, at home, everywhere.
Other children wanted to climb the metal pyramids of playground equipment, swing on the swings, or run in the yard. Not Bobby; he spent all recess coloring.
Teachers at first suspected that he ate the red crayons. This wasn’t the case–Bobby had quickly learned that he hated the way that wax and paper stuck in his esophagus. Besides, he had more important uses for red.
Bobby’s dad hung his kid’s pictures dutifully on his cubicle wall, but he never had particular reason to look at them in any detail until–
“Damn. Frank, have you seen these?”
“Your kid’s drawings.”
“Sure, what about them?”
“Have you actually looked at what he’s been drawing?”
“Uh . . .”
Frank’s coworker pulled down one drawing where a clearly elated Satan was stringing bodies up over a sea of flame. It was not atypical.
“Ah . . . uh . . . yeah.” Frank took the pictures down. “I think we’re finished with crayons for a while.”
(Prompt: Use the words “red,” “pyramid,” “esophagus,” “cube,” share,” “damn,” “elated,” and “finished” in order in a story.)