Casey Donahue

A short story about a hammer.

We lost our voices from screaming at each other so we stopped screaming.

We started to write mean notes to each other because we weren’t done fighting.

We ran out of ink in the pen we were sharing to write the mean notes so we went to the store to buy another pen.

They didn’t have any more pens at the store so we bought a hammer.

Now we are standing at opposite ends of the table with the hammer in the middle.

The first person willing to pick up the hammer and bash the other’s brain wins the argument.

At least we both can agree that it’s more important to be right than happy.

We both lunge for the hammer.

Read all of my short stories at thecaseydonahue.com/shortstories.