Tom Speaks is a professional speaker and a writer of poetry, history and philosophy. He is the co-founder and co-owner of The Impact Group (, a communications firm. He lives in Hudson, Ohio with his wife and two children.

A Flash Fiction

By Tom Speaks

I stand on the bar, a raucous night, in armor three shots thick, towering over these delusional pigmies.

I bawl forth…”Stand fast my solders, my sailors, my noble shit-caked airmen and shit-canned horde.

You are the standard bearers of mediocrity. Don’t you see? History mocks you and laughs at you!

Using his thick handled mason’s trowel to smooth your own shit back into the grouting that holds you together. Yet, I celebrate you! Extol you! Exalt in you.

“Oh, okay, wait now, I’ll get down, hold your horses. You broke my stream my consciousness you horse thief! They hung horse thieves once you know!

“For, why, why, why, why do I extol you?

“I’m your captain! Your champion! I’m your fool and lord and devil too. I’ll wave you forward, guide you in, blaze the trail for you, my children. I’ll plant the flag on our summit of excrement and declare us the victors of nothing. For in the end, what will you leave behind? Mountains of clippings! Of hair clippings and toe nail clippings too. Rivers of piss and maybe some semen or an egg to perpetuate the production of. Of…

“No, no madam, I see you frown, and there, your gentleman friend sneers. I hear your whisperings and chatterings and blatherings. Do not misunderstand my intent! I love you, what YOU are. what you REALLY are! Now. Embrace it and embrace that mug and slug another chug.

“Now, oh yes. Where was I? Face futility my debauched sensualists. The absurdity of ambition, and Camus’ absurdity of existence too. Oblivion’s oblivion, to either side. This present, this moment,

the entirety, totality, spirituality of the now.

“I’m preaching the present. Do you hear! The gospel of now! Evangelizing the all-powerful moment.

For, my children, that’s it. This is it! The only and the true and the vast and the microscopic, the now is the only it.


“Oh hoo! Now I’ve got your attention! Struck a nerve have I?

“I’ll get down, oh one more thing. No, no need to call them. Keep your distance, foul knave. I’ll get down. Just one more thing!

“As Polonius once waxed, ‘to thine own self be true.’ Do you see, do you see, that the totality of you, if to thine own self be true, is the totality of now? Ha! Wrap your noodles around that! Ha hoo! Onward! Onward my children. Another round!  Another beer, another shot for every…

“Unhand me thou rude ruffian! Or I’ll close up the walls with your English muffin head! What? That’s satire! Literature vocalized you nook and cranny faced troglodyte! Ow…

“Off. Off with you! Help! Help my army! My Army? Where art thou? Judas betrayed with a kiss! I see. I see and weep for thee. Ow…”

I’m thrown, falling, splashing into the ally. Vomit behind a dumpster upon someone else’s vomit and,

stager home, to watch Theon Greyjoy’s torture, eat half bag of stale BBQ chips and piss myself on the couch with the broken spring.