Punk Me

The flash fiction challenge was to create a subgenre of punk and write a short 1000 word story.  Unfortunately for me, I am not all that familiar with punk as a genre of writing.  I’ve never written anything that would even come close to being considered of the punk genre.  From what I read online about what exactly constitutes punk lit and the lack of any defined rules for writing it, I decided it would be a challenge just to create any story that was even in the punk genre.

So I’m not exactly following the rules of the challenge.  I wrote a 500 word story that I hope would be considered to be in the punk genre.  Really it could be expanded further and I might do just that in a subsequent post but for now, here it is:

Jeffrey Darsman gathered his scattered belongings together with a reluctant sigh.  Displaced by greed, he was being tossed out of his dilapidated apartment after a mere three weeks.  A distant corporation located in some far away city most likely halfway around the world had decided it must have the building.  This building in which he had just begun to feel comfortable was going to be prime real estate in a matter of only a year or two when other distant corporations finished buying up the other crumbling old properties nearby.

Greedy corporations had run him out of his last shelter.  Everywhere he turned there were massive companies vying to own all the properties in the entire city.  It was a race to determine which company could harvest the most land and construct it into the most expensive and profit generating entity.

The greedy hordes seemed particularly interested in securing ownership of this one decaying section wherein most of the homeless currently congregated.  This was the place to go when in need of assistance, when requiring food and shelter for the night.  There were eleven structures clustered together in one small square that offered humanitarian aid beneficial to the less fortunate members of society.  The aid buildings huddled together as one almost in protest to the sprawling concrete jungle to which they stood adjacent.

Colossal high rises and lavishly designed office buildings surrounded by concrete courtyards made up the majority of the downtown area.  The downtown area reached skyward with its dominant scape of brilliantly constructed businesses.  Now it intended to reach westward as it grabbed up every last inch of property once inhabited only by the lower and bottom levels of the social classes.

Jeffrey Darsman was one of those bottom dwellers.  Homeless for nearly a decade, he survived on hand outs and assistance programs designed to try and help him escape the poverty pit.  Living in shelters and abandoned apartment buildings he eeked out an unenviable existence.  It was a hard and grueling life and one not suited for those individuals with weak constitutions.

Day in and day out he searched for a job that would hire a homeless man with shabby clothing and no guarantee of reliable transportation or for that matter where his next meal would come from.  People scorned him, avoided him on the street and eyed him suspiciously as though being homeless somehow indicated he was anything less than human.  Reality was harsh and unforgiving.

What the world needed was less greed and more genuine concern for the wellbeing of the downtrodden and mistreated members of our so-called civilized society.  What the world needed were less greedy money hoarding corporations and more sharing of the wealth.  Jeffrey Darsman had a perfect idea on just how to force the monstrous beasts of industry to share their wealth.  He would take it from them.

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