Marvin knew that he had to return the salad dressing. Last night, it started screaming at him. "BRING ME DWARVES!" it yelled. Strange, since as far as Marvin knew, salad dressing does not have vocal cords.
So he put the salad dressing in a baggie and threw it in the back of his backpack. He could hear the salad dressing yelling. "I HATE THE DARK AND I HATE THE WARMTH!!! THIS IS WORSE THAN THE FRIDGE! THAT WAS DARK BUT AT LEAST IT WAS COLD!!!"
Down the stairs Marvin ran. As he pushed his way out the door, he ran...
Fights tend to start for no apparent reason. I say that was rude, then you tell me I was snotty first. It's a freakin' white t-shirt we argue over. One of mine I ruined myself with the blue detergent that sits on the washing machine. You throw it because I'm mad you brought it upstairs in the first place, when I was going to bleach it in the next day or so. Then I get more mad and tell you to not be mean to me, when really I guess I was the mad one in the first place. This...
Jane was only footsteps away from the door. She was within earshot of the rest of her existence. She took 3 cleansing breaths, as she had in yoga, time after time after time. But this time, this time would be the clincher. She was coming in and out of consciousness now as she heard the voice. The Voice of her alter ego. Her Fear.She called her Safura after a Western Bad guy she use to see on Kung Fu. Safura was calling her to come back.Come back to Fear, Come back to pain, come back to the land without compassion....
Round and Round and Round she goes, where she'll stop, no one knows...
"Another cuppa, please. I've got a long night to go" The lady at the bar say, rubbing her eyes
I oblige quietly once she hands over the two pounds fifty it costs.
Life moves fast here. So many people pass through, all of them blur after a while, here on the stretch. Most don't stay more then an hour- others like Howard stay for years. Black and white. Here or gone.
I wish I could be one of the ones to leave here. It's odd, because it...
He didn't think he was much of a cat person until he met Matilda. She's even worse at this cat-human hybrid lifestyle than I am, he thought. He laughed derisively. I've got to do something about my derisive laugh, he thought. And maybe start talking aloud.
Matilda was trying to scratch a sofa, and failing miserably. "She's got no claws, that's her problem," he said aloud. Matilda turned and glared. "Oops, I should not have said that aloud," he said aloud.
"Oink," said Matilda.
"No, no, it's meow. Cats say meow. Pigs say oink. We are not pigs." I had...
He was pacing back and forth. His dress pants making a slight swifting noise with every step.
"They should have been here by now," Tom said breathing heavily.
"They will get here when they get here," I replied as I tried to relax on his couch.
We were in his office and we had an important meeting.
It was with a new set of clients who had a nasty reputation. We were suppose to change that for them, however, they were late for the first meeting. A bad sign.
First impressions are everything here. Tom and I rarely discuss anything...
She opened the envelope and screamed. Sweepstakes? Her? She never dreamed it could happen, but there it was, after countless magazine subscriptions to periodicals she never intended to read: Guns and Ammo, Creative Quilting, Fantasy Football Insider. Piles of these damned things lined the hallways and rooms of her small, two-bedroom house.
She didn't intend to read the magazines, but at the same time, she couldn't part with them, just in case, just in case one day she could sell them or donate them or look something up in one of them that might, just might be of some importance...
She clutched whatever she had to her chest. Whatever dignity. She thought to herself. I cannot, do this. But she remembers what her mother had told her. You can, you can. She knocked on the door once, but backed away, out of the doorway, and leaning against the wall. She heard a door open, and then close. While the rain closed in on her, as she stuck out her tongue and let it fall. She could barely hold in the laugh. She took a deep breath and tried again. She knocked on the door slightly, and this time, waited for...
I held it at arm's length. The adoption paper. MY adoption paper. Why didn't they ever tell me I was adopted? People had often remarked that I didn't look at thing like them - my... parents. Now I know why. I'm not even their daughter! Instead, I'm the daughter of Kaitlynn and Joshua Robins. Really! I can't believe that no one... Why didn't they tell me? I don't think I'll ever be able to believe another "I love you" ever again. How can I after this betrayal? What am I supposed to do now? Well, I suppose I'll see if...
Here are words that don't quite form a story. I'm typing them because I'm compelled to write for six minutes a day as a creative warm-up. If I don't, I get antsy; my palms sweat, my skin itches, I hallucinate. Ok, that's not entirely true, but I do enjoy this activity, and I find that it really helps me "prime the engine" for a more focused day. I work at a radio station, and my job is to write scripts for those goofy things you hear between songs that identify the station. It helps to have a good cup of...