Jane Jago’s Daily Drabble – Two Hundred and Ninety-One

He thought himself an evolutionary joke. The single upraised finger of genetics to the expectations of the world. How could the only son of beautiful parents look like him?

He was short, portly, and oddly disproportional. All his life he had been the butt of bullying thinly disguised as ‘jokes’.  Until the day he had had enough. 

He walked out of the door with nothing but a guitar and a lacerated heart.

Somewhere on the Greyhound Bus he ceased to exist and Muchos Garcia was born.

Little fat Muchos and his mariachi band made millions. 

But he never went home…

©️jj 2019

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