Hemingway? Yeah, you're done.

We pan around an open fridge door. The beeping indicates maybe it has been open for a while. We see Hairy’s legs poking from under the stainless steel. He’s in a tight, tight spot here. He’s wearing his indoor Crocs and they squeak like Hairy is moving everything but his feet. We suspect his hands are full. When the wife rounds the corner she is pleasantly surprised that Hairy is frantically wiping down the crisper. He’s wearing only his apron and those Crocs. She pours herself a coffee and watches him with the second crisper — trying not to disturb the man at work. We know he’s done when he reaches for the zucchini to return it to the fridge. Both his wife and the zucchini are missing.
If Homemakers Wrote Scripts for Pornography Based on Harry Potter Movies
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Kristine Laco
Arpad Nagy
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Nov 28, 2022
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Hemingway? Yeah, you're done.
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Written by Arpad Nagy3.5K Followers
·547 Following
Shortlisted for 2024 Northwind Writing Award in NF/Fiction. New owner of First Line Fiction. Editor @ The Memoirist, AoE, Book Cafe, Short Place, Kitchen Tales.
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