100 Degrees Of Separation

By Michael Seese

Janet is at it again. I think this is the fourth or fifth week in a row for the 100-word contests. In her blog, Janet related a funny six (or three) degrees of separation involving authors Christi Corbett, Dan Krokos, and Jeff Somers. This time, use the words:

3
degree
chum
bucket
pants

Here is my entry.



3 degrees are all that separated me from death. Normal body temperature is 37°C, give or take a half. Hypothermia starts at 35. Uncontrollable shivering. Blue fingers, lips. Confusion. Then, the big sleep. What a bucket of shite this night was. One minute, I’m in the pub with me chums, chatting up a lovely, trying to charm her pants off. The next, I’m swimming the Thames, having cheesed off her mister. I’d half a mind to go back and mash him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards.


There’s the pisser. I was on the wrong side of those 3 degrees.


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