Flash fiction (a hundred words or fewer) #9: The Mechanical Bull

In 1991, my college-freshman stupidity almost reached epic heights at the redneck bar, when I drunkenly accepted a fifty-dollar bet from some guy to ride the mechanical bull at top speed for half a minute.  Which I did.  Then I got off and puked all over the blonde sexpot I’d had my eye on all night. “Don’t drink and ride!” I shouted to everyone’s amusement (but not hers). Then my college-freshman stupidity definitely reached epic heights when I—no, sorry, too incriminating, ha ha ha.  Seriously, I haven’t achieved untouchable, grand-old-man status at my job just yet.  But maybe someday.

Copyright © 2016 by David V. Matthews

 

 

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