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May 17, 2017 - 192 words
It was the end of the football game, so Batrix swiveled his massive jellied head to the left to watch the next football game. Batrix was a clean man without a personal ideology and was therefore sucked into that of the football game: a rigidly controlled system of war and rules that provided a perfectly structured activity for his concrete brain to latch onto without much difficulty.
“BATRIX!” screamed the cleaning lady. The cleaning lady was cleaning Batrix which is why he was a clean man. He hired her to perform this function, but he did not hire her to wonder what the fuck she was doing in this scene, so she had to keep these thoughts to herself.
Batrix registered the sound of her voice 15 minutes after it had exited her mouth. He did not react because he was no longer there. He had a network of responsibilities to attend to. It’s always something. He was a wealthy man. He had football games to watch, so his slithering glinting head twisted again to the new television screen. This one was new. It was better. He would watch a better game.