Taste is a matter of where and where you grew up. I am lucky enough to be born in a Country where taste can be seen and savored on a daily base and almost everywhere. Italy is made of taste; great taste, not only concerning the food, but it applies also to cars, shoes, clothing, manners and beautiful ladies. We all know what a man should do to make a lady feel great, isn't that considered taste? When we eat at home or at the fanciest restaurant on the coast do we know what wine is to be matched with...
They were listening. I wasn't worried though, It's not like I had anything important to say. Just knowing that they were there though, behind the thin two way mirror staring at me as if I had something to do with the disappearance of the third missing person this week. If they only knew that the worst thing that I've ever done in my life was stollen a pack of batteries from the Walmart down the street from where I grew up when I was 8. There was no convincing them otherwise now though. They saw me running from the scene...
We all have a demon, a monster, something of a dark creature around us.
There are many types of these creatures. They tend to look the same though, darker than the pits of the deepest holes and overwhelmingly dripping of toxicity. Once they have hold of you it is very hard to to get rid of it. There are many different types of these creatures however.
Some make you feel like you’ll never feel happiness.
Some stop you from eating.
Some will pretend to let you feel happy until they let you crash and crack.
Some will make you harm...
'Have a nice day,' said the lady at the counter on the way out of the face painting store, which was covered in cheerful paintings of children's cartoons. Micheal was clinging onto his mother's right hand, a box of face paints for his fifth birthday party in the other.
'What's that shop Mum?' Micheal asked, pointing to the desolate looking store across the road, its lights flashing dimly.
'That is-er,' she said, trying to conjure words to keep him in the shade of innocence
'Your father?' she gasped, trying to comprehend what was going on.
'Is Dad buying adults from...
Miss or Diss
This game is easy. And it all started at lunch yesterday. We were sitting down in the restricted area. My friend brought up a game.
"Let's play, 'Miss or Diss" She called out.
I was very confused. Miss or Diss? What the heck is this game? My friend must have read my mind, "Clara, It's a game where you pick a person from our school or any character you like and you say it to another person in our group if you want to Diss him/her or you want to Miss -which stands for Marriage, I, sure,...
The gate closed behind them and there was no looking back. What went on inside would be difficult to remember anyway; like a dream that fades after the first cup of coffee, leaving one with but a shadow of a strange feeling that lingers over the rest of the day.
Anne and Bobby had been walking in the woods as the snow fell and Boris, Anne's Laborador retriever, ran ahead. They stopped to kiss in the falling snow, and suddenly noticed that Boris was missing. Running and calling, they came upon a fence they could not recall from any previous...
"But I don't understand," said Marie, carefully patting her French-inspired doo. She had enough hairspray on it to make it impervious, not only to wind, but to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune as well. "Why can't you explain this to me? What do you mean they've had enough cake?"
"Don't worry about it, Ms. Antoinette," said Katie Couric with a grin. "It's nothing to lose your head about."
*rimshot*
Ring, ring!
Ring, ring!'
"Hello, this is General Kuznetz", I stated. "Yes, I understand".
"There has been a change of plans Lieutenant. We must send in our ships".
I clenched my wrists together. The moment was here. The sound of the ships' engines filled the area. Slowly but surely they can began to move. My palms were sweating profusely and my lips compressed together like a lid on a jar. I closed my eyes together, unable to look at the scene unfolding before me. A slight but stratling tingle ran down my spine.
We take the ability to breathe for granted. It's the basic function that keeps us alive, you would have thought that we would keep a closer eye on it, that we would pay attention to how many lungfuls of air we consume every day. But we don't. We don't think about that mundane process because that is not the element of breathing that adds a spark to life; it is the thieves that trade in such banal fare that creates the interest.
For a breath once stolen is never forgotten. Whether it be by the view from a hill over...
Flan in the face, flan in the face, flan in the face.
A wild grin stretched across his face, an expression of pure exuberance, of joy and abandon, just before the pie tin splattered the gelatinous goo all over his tweed coat.
The students were gathered outside the lecture hall, sprawling in the hundreds in the oppressive heat. Here and there, groups had clustered beneath the maple branches, trying desperately to stave off exhaustion. They had been at it for two days already: the most notorious sit-in in America's higher educational history.
As if to further puzzle the wayward boomers...