Long after the fireworks, Katie was returning form the lake side. It wasn't a long walk back to her home. She walk along the road. She was passing a house the paint a yellowed white, this was her boyfriend's house she stood there, and began to remember the the happy time she had with him, and as she remember all the good a phone rang, then the sound of a crying woman, she realized it was her voice.
The argument over the preferred pronunciation of "Pax Romana" bloomed into a bloody fistfight, not that it was terrifically violent so much as the pugilists were notorious bleeders. The patch of snow on which they sparred began to resemble the flag of Japan as arms unfurled, elbows snapped back, and fists clenched so tight, thumbs overlapped knuckles.
Inside, my kung pow shrimp cooled under the air vent.
I stepped into the bathroom, which was green. There was a tape player and it was playing Chinese gongs. There was a salami in the bathtub. The salami was wrapped in that white netting stuff that they wrap salamis in at the salami wrapping plant. There was a toilet too and the toilet was filled with pee and poo and used tampons.
I was still hungry though so I started eating the salami.
"Are you grossed out because of the pee and poo and tampons in the toilet?" one girl asked.
"Both of us are members of Greenpeace," said the...
Fault. It is so common a word. Used by so many to allay the suspicion that they are truly the ones responsible. And who am I? I am no different.
My leg moved as if in a dream, gliding through time and space like it was made of water, no jelly, no gravity. It moved, ever so slowly towards a destination that I couldn't help but be brought to. Call it fate, call it fault call it whatever you will but in the end that is where I ended up. One foot in the street and another on the sidewalk....
And I don't think that they are going anywhere anytime soon. Now that the 5am hour is upon me, I feel as if maybe the person standing in the corner of my room will be able to lift me out of bed. He's done it before, and today I really feel like I might need a little extra help.
My room is a very lively place; it is where I feel the safest. Not only do I do my best work in my room, but this man is in my room, like he always is, night after night. He no...
Spinning.
The tiny clockwork bird danced (for want of a better term) in a circle, twirling, singing out its jaunty song.
She sat, watching it sing out its tune, listening to the unique tinny sound of the music box - there was something about that music, that paticular brand, which brought her back to childhood. As a child she had watched the bird, watched it in her mother's palm.
Her mother had, briefly, convinced her that this was a real bird, that this was what happened to them when they were caught, tamed. That you could teach them these songs,...
My head was pounding, I had too much at the bar during intermission. The lights go up, and that annoying guy, what's his name, is back at the podium.
"Welcome back everyone."
What was his name
"We are going to continue with the awards, and this one is nothing short of honorable."
I have worked with him for years. Carl? Steve? Mike? Fuck.
"And now we are going to give out the award for our employee of the year. This is nothing we take lightly, and we would like to thank all of our employees for the work they do...
"I've got a loaded weapon and I'm not afraid to use it!" she shouted, holding the cat in her arms like an AK-47 as the snow swirled around her on the open playing field.
"You touch my snowman again and I will set the cat on you!"she snarled, walking menacingly towards the group of chav-scum teenagers who were busy kicking over her children's carefully constructed snowmen.
"Oh yeah, as if we're scared!" one of them challenged her. She just smiled, peeled back her black balaclava and revealed her badly scarred face. "He did this last month." she said simply, and...
i am forgetting about the prompt.
a woman came in, a regular.
one of the town 'crazies'
may i just say, i love this woman.
even though her choice of topics can and frequently are controversial- even though i've disagreed and even gotten upset over her opinions- i love her.
she is a free spirit
a real independent
doesn't care what you think or what they say- she has her facts and she is sticking to them
though most who know her (or know of her) would laugh or quite honestly have it in for me-
i find her inspiring...
She didn't look at him. Not today. Not ever. They'd shared the #15 bus every weekday for four years. Reliable as clockwork they glided through the streets together; alone. She with her Wall Street Journal, small frowns forming with the turn of each page. He with his headphones pumping out Led Zeppelin, eyes mostly closed.
Every few minutes he looked over at her, tried to catch her eye. Maybe today was the day. Maybe today she would put down the black and white pages of bad news and, only for a second, gaze at the man in the red jacket....