Vespa Man.

So in 2019 I actually got off my ass and wrote a 656 word flash fiction called Vespa Man. I wanted to submit it to some literary magazine but I found it hard as a lot of the literary mags are gatekeep-y as fuck. Not that I’m mad or anything. They have their reasons I guess.

So anyways, I finally found a magazine I could submit a story to and I spent a while trying to format a presentable manuscript that I could email to them. I got rejected because it sucked. I knew it wasn’t really that good since I wrote it in half an hour. It all happened in a big rush of inspiration after I saw Fooly Cooly and realized how cool Vespa bikes are. The story was just basically a series of small events that feel extremely pointless until the last sentence which totally undercuts the suspense turning the story into a complete joke retroactively. It’s not the worse thing in the world but it just seems to exist.

I wish I could write more fiction but I just can’t. I try to think of ways to advance the story but my mind just comes up with blanks. All I ever have are just small ideas that never become reality. I only ever feel motivation out of nowhere and it only lasts for an hour before disappearing for a year. Everyday I get more and more disgusted at myself for not writing more stories. Yet I can’t seem to change my ways.

So if there’s anything you should take away from this, it’s that you shouldn’t be me. Just listen to Shia LeBeouf and don’t let your dreams be dreams. Just do it. That’s it. That’s all. Here’s the fucking story I guess.


The Vespa dashed through the streets with unyielding speed through the town. It went so fast that I couldn’t keep up myself, I ended up getting worried about crashing into something or getting arrested for breaking the speed limit.
Eventually I find a good stopping point and stop there. Upon stopping by the sidewalk near some cars I see a nearby bench and sit there for a while resting for a bit to recover from the speed. I felt dizzy.
I have 15 minutes get to my destination. It’s 6:45.
“I can do it. I just need to focus.”
After that I get back on the bike and start again, this time at a slower speed.
I spend a couple of minutes going down the streets when I see some yellow tape right in front of me and I stop the Vespa again. The tape had black text and said “DO NOT CROSS”.
There was some police cars there and upon closer inspection I see a piece of white cloth big enough to cover a body which was, in fact was covering a body. A corpse obviously. There was some blood stains visible on top. I had no time to keep looking at this so I just drove off to find another street. Driving off to another path to my destination.
I drive into a different from where I was neighborhood and I begin to realize that alot of this part of the city is kinda unfamiliar to me so I try to look at my surroundings so I can remember where I am. On my left I see a fast food joint (probably a family resturant or something cause the name of the place doesn’t sound like it belongs to any chain I know of) and a brightly lit dance club with pink neon lights as far as the eye can see. On my left is a bank and a pharmacy.
I as keep going and checking my surroundings I notice that I’m getting pretty close to my final destination. I check the time my watch and notice that it’s 6:55. At this very moment I feel conflicted on whether or not I should even go. I mean, I do wanna go since it seemed promising and I don’t wanna flake out of paranoia but at the same time I keep hearing stories of people doing stuff like this getting beat up or killed. So it seems like quite the gamble.…
And now I’m here finally just on the another side of the street within the suburban block of the place I’m supposed to be at. Now here is where the ultimatum finally comes to it’s conclusion.
I have just one more minute and a half…
I feel my body freeze where I am and I just sit on the Vespa wondering what I should be doing right now and just close my eyes..
“Come on you won’t die. Stop being so scared!"
“Don’t go there if you know what’s best for you.”
With all that’s said and done, I decide the better option.
Then, as if I had nothing to lose, I set the pedal to the metal and drove as I felt palpitations running through my heart. I ride as fast as I never thought I could possibly go, wind rushing across to the back of my hair as I finally make it there. To the house I felt so afraid to enter.
I get off the Vespa and walk to the front door, feeling tense, and I give it a good knock.
Someone opens the door and my destiny is sealed, as if fate itself made me come here. I gulp and I see a man opening the door.
“Oh so you actually came. Come inside.”
I enter the home and with that it’s time.…
...time for the PNP orgy I scheduled on Grindr with the man at the door to begin.