Today’s Writing Prompt is:
My Response to Last Week’s Prompt:
He couldn’t believe that his friend, Susan, had set him up on a blind date with someone called Dr. Knuckles. Was that a name for a wrestler or an actual doctor? But, then again, his name wasn’t exactly what people would call “normal” either.
And, what was probably the best part, Susan wouldn’t tell him what this person’s first name was. This annoyed Billy as he had a thing for names and it left the sex ambiguous. The latter didn’t really bother him that much since he swung either way, but he liked to know how to act in situations that he had time to think about before they actually happened. He was a planner.
He hiked his hood up over his head as it started to rain, shoving his hands in his hoody pocket. Billy loathed parking downtown and wished Susan had picked a different restaurant for him and this doctor person to meet up.
Billy hoped he/she/whatever wasn’t terribly ugly; he liked to date people who at least resembled humans. He sidestepped around a large puddle, frowning at the muddy leaves collecting in the gutter flow. He hated gutter flow. And gutters. And rain. And having to walk through it all because the city’s idea of “parking” were a couple structures thrown in the midst of the old and new buildings that composed their downtown area.
When the street lamp in front of him shorted, he stopped and stared at it with chin raised, rain spattering his face and running down his neck. Billy wondered if a passing car’s headlights had made it think of daytime or if the city was slacking again.
Then he shrugged and kept walking. It wasn’t his problem and the restaurant was close anyways.
As he passed the building before his destination, he wished they were meeting there instead. Billy stopped again and stared in the windows, part of him wondering if the baristas thought him a perv. It was a quaint cafe and bookstore in one that he could picture himself melting into. He contemplated going in the store and buying some coffee. But, if he did that, he’d never leave the store. He didn’t particularly care what this Dr. Knuckles thought of him. But he didn’t want to insult Susan.
Billy sighed, watching the small puff of white float out of his mouth. He was glad that it was starting to get cold again.
He rolled his shoulders as if stretching before a workout, and then marched to the next building and through the doors of The Bistro.
This is just a small piece of the short story that I’m currently working on, which was inspired by the previous writing prompt. It’s getting pretty interesting so far; cross your fingers for me that it stays that way.