Jealousy As An Occupation

Lisa has a hard time explaining her job. To be fair, she might have a harder time believing it herself.

"People hire me to be jealous of them. Sometimes I write a bunch of comments on their socials saying how I wish I could be more like them. Or I might burst in on a client while he's on a date begging for him to take me back because he's the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's a great boost to their self-esteem."

"And they pay you for this?"

"I'm really good at wishing I were someone else."

Very Bad Wizards

Zorbus Glitterwand walked smugly into the Conclave. He was universally regarded as the worst wizard in the world, with several guild awards on his mantle at home testifying to that fact.

So he was disappointed to be met not by awed expressions and veiled jealousy, but rather sniggers and disdain. Did these amateurs forget who they were in the presence of?

The room became deadly silent. Zorbus turned to find his old nemesis, Otto Orriblé. He'd left the wizard for dead after their last duel, 300 years prior.

This night, the Conclave died in a hail of fire and maelstrom.

Runner-Up

I won LEGO. It was a big box containing pieces that would've made my entry even better - perhaps even better enough for first place. There was a certificate as well but I don't remember ever seeing that again. I asked my mother recently but she told me she hadn't either. I reckon my stepfather tore it to pieces in a vicious fit of jealousy on account of what I'd built - a crane like those my father operated; my father who was never around. If only it'd been my stepfather operating cranes instead. He had a bad leg and might've slipped.

From Guest Contributor Chris Parlett

The Sheriff From Little Spring

The sheriff from Little Spring, Wyoming had a reputation for tenaciously hunting any outlaw who passed through his town. Lawbreakers were so rare, in fact, that he had taken to bounty hunting in the neighboring counties. Whenever a bank robber or horse thief saw his white ten-gallon in the distance, they fled immediately. But to no avail. The sheriff from Little Spring never failed once he caught the scent.

The truth was, if he had had his druthers, the sheriff would have been an outlaw himself. His fanaticism was born more out of a sense of jealousy than of justice.

Discarded Laundry

I first saw him laying outside the haberdashery downtown. They said he was born without any connective tissue. Lacking cartilage and tendons and ligaments, he was more amoeba than man, and he was often left out like discarded laundry. Passersby debated his fate. The philosophical wondered if the deformity significantly altered his understanding of the world, while the compassionate argued he never should have been allowed to live. I always found it hard to look away. There was nothing holding him together, yet somehow he continued to exist. And I found myself increasingly jealous of how well-dressed he always appeared.

This is a story I submitted to Every Day A Century, a 100-word poetry blog that you all should check out.