The Words:
Reykjavik, staph infection, bad comb-over, penultimate, onerous, artificial flavors, road kill, bauble, Chinese eye candy, Bigfoot, cake plate
**
"How dare you, you onerous prick. How dare you take me for some sort of Chinese eye candy..."
"You're not a bauble..."
"Like fuck I'm not... don't try your artificial flavors on me..."
"Oh, come on... the guy was from Reykjavik. I had to go see him. He was such a bla--"
"And I guess Bigfoot would seem a fitting excuse too. You'd even bring pictures!"
"Actually I was thinking more on the lines of a road kill. A poor little kitty who needed a funeral."
"Just admit it won't you? Admit that I am the penultimate reason for coming to town, last being your audacious need to rant about a bad comb-over..."
"Fine. You're the cake plate for my staph infection."
December 2, 2009
December 1, 2009
Gapping
The Words
Indispensable, Antediluvian, Bristled, Amicable, Voracious, Traipse, Stammers into the room, Mind the gap, Face planted, toppled out of the tree, Coconspirator
**
There was this kid who died in high school. They said he killed himself. And it made sense. He was the kind of kid who bristled and caved in like a rat when they called him "Yo, Batty!" The voracious reader who would dig up antediluvian facts and use them like coconspirators. But they always won, and being the indispensable bait he was, they laid him to rest with amicable words over a closed casket. It happened. Or so they thought.
But instead, he toppled off the tree.
He stammered into the room, traipsed behind them like a ghost to the metro, eyed the "Mind the Gap" with a glint of anxiousness, stepped a second too quick as the rest of them watched with faces planted in their horror masks when he fell as the train came.
They never went gapping again.
Indispensable, Antediluvian, Bristled, Amicable, Voracious, Traipse, Stammers into the room, Mind the gap, Face planted, toppled out of the tree, Coconspirator
**
There was this kid who died in high school. They said he killed himself. And it made sense. He was the kind of kid who bristled and caved in like a rat when they called him "Yo, Batty!" The voracious reader who would dig up antediluvian facts and use them like coconspirators. But they always won, and being the indispensable bait he was, they laid him to rest with amicable words over a closed casket. It happened. Or so they thought.
But instead, he toppled off the tree.
He stammered into the room, traipsed behind them like a ghost to the metro, eyed the "Mind the Gap" with a glint of anxiousness, stepped a second too quick as the rest of them watched with faces planted in their horror masks when he fell as the train came.
They never went gapping again.
November 30, 2009
Ain't a Little Girl
The Words:
stamp, mug, buick, white, devil, chicago, cold, girl, night, black, crossroads
**
Papa,
Buick or no, I am going. I'm sick of having no crossroads to pick from. I ain't a little girl anymore. I'm tired of this cold farm where the damn horses can't take a dump at night because they're scared the devil's gonna take them. I don't need no one to show me my way to Chicago. I'll make it fine. Then again, maybe it might not be Chicago. You can check the stamp on the next letter to guess where it's coming from. I left something for you at the bottom of Momma's black and white checkered mug. Keep it for me.
I'll come back one day.
Janine
PS: Tell Wald he can eat dung.
stamp, mug, buick, white, devil, chicago, cold, girl, night, black, crossroads
**
Papa,
Buick or no, I am going. I'm sick of having no crossroads to pick from. I ain't a little girl anymore. I'm tired of this cold farm where the damn horses can't take a dump at night because they're scared the devil's gonna take them. I don't need no one to show me my way to Chicago. I'll make it fine. Then again, maybe it might not be Chicago. You can check the stamp on the next letter to guess where it's coming from. I left something for you at the bottom of Momma's black and white checkered mug. Keep it for me.
I'll come back one day.
Janine
PS: Tell Wald he can eat dung.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
