The Money Short Story Competition

A friend told me about it, a free competition, themed ‘The Money’, first prize £75.

I wrote the story that night. I was sure to win: I’m simply an incredible writer.

I emailed my submission and waited for the winner’s cheque.

A few nights later I took my girlfriend to the cinema, to see the new movie Submarine. Normally we can’t afford it, but with £75 on the way I thought I’d splash out. We even had ice-cream.

On Tuesday, I bought a new mug, to replace the cracked one. Later that day, I found my girlfriend in tears, with the mug in her lap.

“We can’t afford this,” she said to me, “first the cinema, then a new mug. Who do you think you are, Gordon Brown?”

“I’m coming into some money,” I said. I didn’t let on how much, in case she became profligate.

At the end of the month I got a letter from my bank, telling me I was overdrawn. The cheque still hadn’t arrived. I phoned up the competition organisers.

“My cheque hasn’t come,” I said.

The woman at the other end of the phone seemed confused. “I’m afraid you’re not the winner, Mr Oblong, which is why there’s no cheque for you.”

“There must be some mistake,” I said, “my story was brilliant.”

“It really isn’t our policy to offer comment on losing submissions,” she said. “However, I’ll make an exception in your case. Frankly, we thought the ending was rubbish.”