Flying Blind

He held up a Peanut M&M wrapper and crinkled it. The plastic-leaf rustling echoed off objects in the room. He smelled the fragments of candy shell inside, the burnt smell of the now eaten peanuts. Now he smelled the garbage from the kitchen, the leather of the sofa, and the green earthy scent of houseplants.

He made his way across the room, into the kitchen.

Using his daredevil candy-wrapper skills, he made his way past the refrigerator. The regular, square reflections of M&M wrappernoise demarcated his corridor. There, in that cabinet, he smelled dust and cardboard, and some assorted teas.

He opened it up. Here was where he kept the M&Ms, still scentless inside their waxy packets. Soon he would be even more powerful.

Dear President of Marketing at Mars Incorporated

This is the kind of stirring descriptive writing you can expect from me if you take me on as your new short-fiction writer. I realize you might not have such a position, but the field of advertising is expanding every day, with new niche markets opening up all the time. Dozens of people read this blog every month, and putting me on salary will grant you access to those dozens, and the network of dozens more beyond (I cannot actually vouch that my readers have any friends.)

Think of the awesome power! I just reread my piece and it made me want to eat another bag of peanut M&Ms. I didn't, because I don't want to get sick, but you see how it works?

Sincerely,

Dan Kilian

Product Short-Fiction Writer

Dear Reader,

It's meta-fiction bitches! Am I in the story about the M&M wrapper, or the letter about the story, or am I commenting on it from another layer above? Well the jokes on you, because I'm commenting on the comment from a fourth level! It goes all the way to the top, and you'll never get to the bottom. In my way, I have become a god. I turn to my fellow gods and find that we are all slaves, the lowest of the low. Who enslaves the gods? Why the corporate Masters at Mars Inc, of course, at least that's who would control the gods, if you hire me. That's right! I'm back in the letter! Now I'm back up to level 4! Now I'm looking down on that! Now I crinkle my wrapper and realize that it's really not giving me sonar, I just kind of know my way around the apartment even though I'm blind. Back in the story, only this time in first person bitches!

Sorry about the "bitches" thing. That's trite, but it still sounds good to say. Maybe in my next post I'll come up with a new word to replace "bitches." I know I've gone the meta-fiction angle before too, but here we are, on the 6th level, so I'd be a fool not to point it out. John Barth can bite my ass!

--Dan Kilian

District 9 District 9 District 9 District 9 District 9

Rough Night