The Called It a Near Miss

For my creative writing class, the assignment was to write a 300 word piece that began with the sentence "They called it a near miss but I called it...."

The piece was to include a twist. I wrote two. Tell me which you prefer:

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A Near Miss

They called it a near miss but I called it bad aim. Fortunately, it was to my advantage and may have saved my life.

Ever since my mate disappeared I’ve felt useless. As a pair we always kept pace with each other. I felt like we were going places. But now that I was alone, I didn’t have any bounce in my step. I was run down, and worn out.

The last time I saw my mate we had fallen in with the wrong crowd. Our colors didn’t match with theirs. They had let us know they were from the top shelf and that we didn’t belong with their kind.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” I said.

“Don’t worry,” my mate consoled me, “It will all come out in the wash.”

Before I knew what had happened, I found myself being twisted and tangled in a mass of sheets and towels. Then the water poured over me, soaking me till I felt heavy. When the water began to churn, I knew I could not escape. That’s when my mate was wrenched away from me.

I don’t remember what happened after that. When I came too, I was lying on the floor alone. I admit that I panicked. I was washed up. I knew that on my own, I had little value. And I was right.

“An old sock,” she said as she picked me up for inspection. But when she noticed my mate was not there, she carelessly tossed me toward the trash bin as she walked from the room.

Fortunately her aim was poor and I landed behind the dryer instead. I’ve been here ever since. At least I’m safe. For now.

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Another Near Miss

They called it a near miss, but I called it serendipity. I was crossing the parking lot in front of the Global Corp Headquarters on my way to my first interview. College was a dream. It was time to be an adult.

“Get off your arse and get a real job.” Dad had ordered.
I sighed. “Playing drums in the band IS my real job.”

Dad just laughed. That hurt. Before the week was out Dad had set up an appointment with the head of the accounting department at his office. “Don’t screw this up.” He warned.

I scowled as I approached the gray seven story commercial complex. The sun was shining and the air was cool. It would have been the perfect day to head out to the lake on my bike. Charlie and Craig were probably there already.

Just as I stepped off the sidewalk and started across the road that ran the length of the building, a silver Pathfinder whipped around the corner. It was heading straight at me and not slowing down.

As I dashed out of the car’s path, I caught a glimpse of the driver. His black hair was shaved short and the edges of his mouth were turned down in a deep frown. He never even noticed me.

“Jerk!” I shouted, as the car disappeared around the corner.

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in front of the same jerk watching him study my resume. After a while he looked up.

“If you’re going to work here,” he snarled, “you’ll need to cut that rat’s nest you’re trying to pass off as hair.”

Without even thinking, I jumped to my feet and walked to the door. “I’m outta here!” I called over my shoulder.

Dad was gonna kill me. But I didn't care.