Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


February 26th 2013 in Microfiction

“Little Devon wants to be president some day; don’t you, Devon?” Charlene nudged the boy towards Luella for her blessing, his finger pushed into his right nostril up to the second knuckle. At that moment, Bertram came down the stairs, masking tape horns stuck to his T-Ball helmet and bike streamers glued to some old shoulder pads borrowed from his brother. “Bert, what the sam hell you doin’? What’s that get-up for?” his mom, Clarice, called out. “Goin’ outside with the other kids, Mom. Gonna make sure nobody fights an’ everybody has a good time.” He was out the door with a bang and Clarice sighed. “Now, THAT,” Grandma Luella said with a chuckle, “is someone who would make a fine president.”

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On his last day, Paul left his tape and stapler on Mark’s desk, his Post-It notes on Linda’s, and a jar of honey with a note on Nancy’s. “You’re a good person and I believe you when you say you just want to be happy,” he’d written, “but you complain all of the time. Your […]

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