*** “So, Tap,” the bartender began, “What is it you do, exactly?” “I run hot & cold,” he shrugged. “It depends.” “On what?” “On whether they turn the “H” knob or the “C” knob.” “They…who?” “You know–the freaks with opposable thumbs.”
You usually win at Hide & Seek—know the best hiding places and how to not giggle. I look everywhere, but you’re nowhere. Hours, Days, Weeks and then I finally find you: grinning all smarty-pants from a milk carton. (nyah-nyah) You’re IT!
My funeral is exactly as I’d envisioned: Shasta daisies and giant Calla Lilies just like the kind that grow around Alcatraz Island. They even got the songs right: Don’t Fear the Reaper and Jambalaya. The part that goes, “Goodbye Joe, me gotta go…me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou…” Spot On! Not much of […]
The oak’s limbs are frostbitten. Icy moonlight dances between them and a glistening mosaic pirouette commences. Its aching branches sparkling terribly as the willow watches from afar, weeping.
“Crap!” She slammed the phone down. The sitter cancelled again; right before Louise’s shift. The baby usually slept through the night… Louise grabbed her keys and tip-toed out, as her forgotten cigarette smoldered.
It’s no use pretending that it didn’t happen. And it will keep on happening. Scotch crazy and martini wild days of secret tears and bad imagination. Acid-washed nights in torn memories–faded blue jeans frayed and dragging the street like the Fear and hopeless pain in my soul’s heart. I want you back. Please try. C’mon. […]
This week’s prompt at 100wcgu is …but even when I listened carefully… *** Over time and to the lucky ones, animal-friends and their humans can become acutely aware of one another’s subtleties. A curious twitch of her tail, a breathy purr a nano-octave higher, or even my teary sigh never goes undetected and unattended. One night […]
*** By all accounts, he was a bad idea: √ Charming √ Chick magnet √ Functioning alcoholic √ Commitment-shy. These dubious qualities are exactly what provided Kiera with the impetus for her pursuit. They always had. His velvet brown eyes sparkled silver when he smiled and listened intently to whatever nonsense his customers spewed. Every so often he’d glance her way […]
§§§ Martin knew it wasn’t normal. He’d neither seen nor heard of anyone else doing it, yet, he couldn’t help himself. The sexy skid-thump of the Huff Post hitting the driveway had him salivating. Martin especially savored the Classifieds: Ink-stained teeth, be damned!
This week’s prompts at Grammar Ghoul Press are the word “pterodactyl” and the sculpture below: ‘Torso in Metal from The Rock Drill’ by Sir Jacob Epstein. ¢¢ Man, I hate Saturdays: the worst day of the week. Why, you ask? It’s the visitors. You people don’t know what it’s like; sitting her immobilized while idiots stroll by making stupid comments, laughing. Hah! If they […]