Comeuppance


An entry for Flash! Friday vol. 2-23.

Last night had been a little too strong. He smacked the alarm clock. It clattered to the floor.

His head swam as he tried to sit up in bed. Like his ex-wife, brown liquor made a habit of coming back into his life at inopportune moments.

With the election so close, a man of his stature and aspirations had appearances to keep. From Oktoberfest celebrations to County Fair pie-eating contests, his people booked him anywhere with fried food and half-decent hooch.

Today was the biggest day yet: Election day. Time to appear and motivate his constituency. He noticed the time on the shattered face of the alarm clock. “I’m late!”

He scrambled to dress. Starched shirt. Silk tie. Argyle socks. His double-breasted overcoat lay draped across a chair.

Jelly doughnuts take their toll. He huffed and puffed, and tugged. Fabric stretched and seams strained to their breaking point against his rotundity.

“Come on. Come up, pants!”

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