Better Done Than Never

Todd, a middle-aged writer with a day job, needed a mental escape. Absurdist fiction contest? Excellent.

Unfortunately, preliminary research on Wikipedia was fast becoming an ADHD-hyperfocus-wormhole.

Ah . . . procrastination. Hello old friend, he thought, welcoming its sickly sweet touch like that of a toxic lover.

He scrolled the list of authors and stymied at Kafka. Click.

. . .

Wow, OK! He hadn't an ice cube's hope in hell of imitating Kafka! He'd need two literary degrees just to understand the nuances of Kafka.

It seemed the only commonality they shared were their poor choices in women and an overwhelming sense of doom, inadequacy and loneliness — none of which were all that unique, Todd patronizingly reminded his own ego.

Forget it. He clicked back to the main page and scrolled again.

Maybe he could pull off a dark Lewis Carroll. But only if he stopped wasting his free time reading about writing instead of actually writing.

*

Todd left his desk for the kitchen and whipped out a box of mac n' cheese — aka brain food — multitasking by drafting an outline while the water was boiling. He took the plate back to his desk to eat while reviewing it. But then, as if on cue, the cat jumped across the keyboard and closed the browsing window.

Oh GOD NO! He hadn't clicked save!

"ArrGHhHh!!"

Todd laid his head on his desk. He could feel the dopamine draining from his body like a sinner emptying his purse on Sunday.

Cuckooo!

His grandmother's heirloom clock mocked him from the mantle. It droned on painstakingly for another ten slow, punctuating cuckoos.

Well, that settled it. The contest closed at midnight. There was no way he could finish anything of quality in an hour.

"Look kid, it's better done than never," huffed a charred, baritone voice from the end of his desk.

Todd lifted his head and couldn't believe his eyes. A monster the size of his cat sat staring at him while smoking a cigar.

Perfect, he thought nonchalantly. I'm having a stroke. Was this the angel of death? Looked gruesome enough.

Todd offered a handshake.

"Hello, Death."

The monster recoiled. "I'm not death. What's da matter with you? If you want a label, you could say I'm your . . . fairy godfather. Name's Vinnie. "

"A fairy godfather who smokes cubans. Those'll kill you, you know."

Vinnie took a long drag and flicked the ashes.

"I'm a tardigrade. Nothing kills me."

Todd rolled his eyes. "Not much of a smokers' paradise these days though, eh?"

"I'm based in Quebec."

"Ah."

Vinnie stubbed out his cigar in the macaroni.

"Hey! I was eating that."

"That culinary disaster should have never seen the light of day. I did you a favour. Now let's get to work."

"You're too late. The contest is closing."

Vinnie scoffed.

"Late? I may be tardy, but I'm never late."

"That makes no sense."

"Sure it does. I'm made of magic."

Todd sighed.

"Fine. Whatever. Grant me a wish then. Make me a world famous writer."

"This isn't a who ya gonna call or once upon a dream fiasco. I can't do overhauls!"

Todd laughed.

"You don't sound great at your job."

Vinnie stuck his finger in Todd's chest.

"It may not be all sappy bells and wings, but yeah I am. Sometimes I even smile when it's done, capeesh?"

The tardigrade leaned back on his haunches.

"Now listen to me. You gotta drop this all or nothing thinking. It's not over til it's over. Maybe you won't be the next Tolstoy, but no one liked him anyway. Sometimes you have to just go for it. Better done than never. Repeat after me, better done than never..."

Cuckooooo, Cuckooooo.

Todd jerked upright and smeared the sleep drool off his chin with the back of his palm. That damn clock would be the death of him.

Cuckooooo, Cuckooooo.

What a nightmare. His mother was right. He had to quit mixing his Adderall with caffeine. The crash was too intense.

Cuckoooo, Cuckooooo.

His hand hovered over the computer keys, a flurry of ideas in his mind finally taking shape. But it had to be midnight now.

Cuckooooo, Cuckooooo.

Where was a fairy godfather in real life when you needed one!

Funny, he could swear he still smelled the heady aroma of a cigar, and reflexively wafted his hand in the air to clear away the phantasma.

Cuckooooo, Cuckoooo.

There was nothing for it, he decided. He had to accept defeat. Todd rose and took his cold, half-eaten plate of Kraft Dinner to the kitchen.

Cuckooo, Cuckooo.

But then, as he was yet again mulling over his regrettable life choices, scraping leftovers into the trash along with his hopes and dreams, there it was: a tiny stogie drowned in ketchup!

It couldn’t be.

Cuckooo, Cuckooo.

Todd flung the plate in the sink, rushed back to the computer and moved the mouse. The screen came to life and . . . the outline was back!

Cuckooo.

Wait, how many cuckoos was that?

Todd pulled his phone out of his pocket and sure enough, it was 11 p.m. again. Somehow, someway — he had a second chance. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be complete and that's what mattered.

"YES!" he screamed.

The cat screeched in fright and the downstairs neighbours pounded the ceiling, but he didn't care. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at the roots with unabashed glee, his eyes wild with fervor.

Todd sat down and typed. He typed faster than a Quebecois Italian curses mac n' cheese. When it was done, he gave it a quick once over for typos — to hell with commas. There were five minutes to spare.

"Better done than never," he mumbled with a grin.

Todd clicked, "SUBMIT FOR REVIEW".

And — from somewhere in Quebec — a tardigrade named Vinnie smiled.

~*~

--- end of entry --- word count: 988

Author's Note

Fun tardigrade facts:

"You can boil them, bake them, deep-freeze them, crush them, dehydrate them, or even blast them into space. It doesn’t matter—tardigrades can survive practically anything. These eight-legged aquatic animals may be small, but they’re nearly indestructible." - National Geographic Kids

Source https://kids.nationalgeographic.com/animals/invertebrates/facts/tardigrade

First published by Call Me Les on Vocal Media March 2025. All rights reserved. Entered into the Absurdist Awakening Contest.