As you may recall, I started attending a meetup group for writers since I am new to Austin. Since the first meetup, the group has grown quite a bit and I am – apparently – an assistant coordinator. I’ve gotten some feedback for Sister Christian and Diatomaceous Earth that’s been very helpful, and the writing prompts of ours have been fun for me. I finally remembered to bring my laptop so I could record my prompt results. I decided to go ahead and share the story I wrote from the prompt. Keep in mind this was written in 10 minutes, and hasn’t been edited at all.

The prompt was: You are in the green room of a talk show with a kangaroo. What happens?

“Why is this fucking kangaroo man in my green room, trying to steal my thunder?” I thought. This show was supposed to be all about me and my fucked up problems, not about some weird human who uncannily resembles a kangaroo. I looked over at the kangaroo man, waiting for him to make eye contact. He didn’t. He kept staring at the pouch in his lap pretending I didn’t exist, that I wasn’t 4 fucking feet away from him. Clearly, I would have to be the bigger person here and make conversation first.

“What’s your name, freak?” I ask. He continues to stare at his pouch, but reaches down into it and pulls out a Ziploc bag half-full of what I suspect is cocaine. I wonder if his kangaroo snout makes it easier or harder to snort coke. I’ve never been a fan of the stuff. I just can’t stand having things in my nose. And I hate the smell of smoke. I’m okay with needles; maybe I could do intravenous drugs.

“Sully,” the kangaroo said. “And yes, I am still human. I killed my entire family falling asleep at the wheel and just wanted to hop away from life after it happened. Spent my entire retirement savings on plastic surgery to turn myself into a kangaroo. Killing your family will make you do fucked up things.”