"Wait! Wait!" Sam huffed and ran.
There was a red light, which finally made the huge white vehicle stop. It's lights weren't flashing, so Sam was sure the driver wasn't too busy.
He banged on the door only stopping when the window rolled down.
"Yeah?"
"Please!" Sam pulled in huge gulps of air. "I really could use a ride to the-" gulp, "-nearest gas station."
Blankly, the driver stared. "Seriously, dude?" the man chuckled. His deep blue eyes looked amused. "Does this look like a taxi to you?"
"No, of course not, and I completely understand!" Sam raised both hands...
I awoke, pissed, the activity, not the feeling, took a shower, got dressed, made coffee, drank the coffee, fed the dog, the fish, the cat, watered the plants, left a note for the cleaning people, heard a story on NPR that made me think of you, began to write a poem about the us we were, before we became the non-us, still it felt good to think of you, your smile, shoes, the way you opened your eyes after they were closed in the aftermath of our coupling, when we were a couple, it turned me on, I went back...
Fred wanted the puppets. He wanted all the puppets, man. If Fred couldn't have puppets, he'd be a miserable SOB. All he could ever think about was puppets. He wore his socks on his hands. That's how much he loved puppets.
So when he saw the Punch and Judy set on ebay, he knew he had to act. Problem was: Sylvester Stallone was coming over for lunch. He'd slaved for hours over the meal (pickles on rye bread. And figs.) He wanted to impress Sylvester Stallone with stories of how he rubbed Cheez Whiz into the hair of his buttocks,...
Tigger was not just any old Maine Coon Cat. He was *the* Maine Coon Catt. It was perhaps a lengthy code name for a spy but he liked it all the same.
He unfolded the small piece of paper that had been folded up inside the sole of the shoe he had just been handed at the dry cleaners.
"Distract the Family Dog Captain," it read.
Tigger knew the Family Dog and knew that distracting him from his important task of manning the security barrier that led from the A Zone into Second Street and beyond would not be easy....
Marie loved apples.
That would make her smile.
It was bad enough that Eric had messed up her homework, it was supposed to be a joke, who knew the dog would actually eat it. Puppies do that. She'd kind of laughed it off. She'd taken the shredded remnants of it to school, she'd come back, shadows under her eyes and Eric, waiting on her porch asked if she was in big trouble.
"Nah," she replied, "They laughed. I'm forgiven this time, and so are you."
Big hug.
And she munched a Pink Lady apple, a double celebration. She had one...
Poor Kait. She has a knee brace. That sucks. How ever will she compete in the Canadian KICK GUYS IN THE NADS CHAMPIONSHIP? I dunno. Kait's awesome at kicking guys in the nads. That's cause she meets lots of arseholes. They come up to her and say: "Hey, want to smell my Cheeto breath?" Then BAM!!! A knee in the nads courtesy of Miss Kait.
Yessir, Miss Kait's won the championship three years in a row. Kait McGee, national nad kneeing champ. So when she broke her knee last week opening that can of Ravioli, all of us were just...
Nothing worse than weak coffee to start a Monday morning. I don't know how many times I've had to tell her, it's 2 scoops per cup of water and even then you aren't going to get a jolt when you drink it. I use three and a half scoops per cup of water and that right there is a coffee that will wake you up and send you out the door. No sense in drinking coffee flavored water, now is there.
So I poured out my cup and felt her eyes staring into the back of my head and I...
Hats. Of every shape and size. I love them all. You may call me crazy, or you may not. I love them all, of every color and make. I make some, I find others. I keep them all by my side, and drink my tea as I study them. Who am I you ask? Some strange Hatter? Well to be more precise i'm a MAD Hatter. Yes that's correct. I am a bit mad, but who isn't? Hats just so happen to catch my fancy, and I love to make them. I also collect them. I can find you a...
We were eating tuna fish sandwiches on the green outside the palace. The sandwiches were soggy but we ate them anyway. The sky and the water were dusk. "It's dusky," I said. "No," she replied.
We ate the soggy sandwiches as we stared at the sky. When you're lost in thought, your sense of taste dims. Staring at the sky and down at the water, I could feel my taste buds run up to my eyes. I could almost taste the sky.
I could tell you I tasted the water, but it just tasted like water. Soggy.
If I just write something, what if I reveal something unsavoury about myself?
What if I mess up the spelling?
What if I am under so much pressure to knock something out in six minutes that I don't write anything? A single blank page permanently appearing on my profile as a record of my inneptitude?
What if I write about something uncool, or unninteresting? First impressions count, after all. I'll be an outcast before I've even started.
Maybe I could just leave here and never come back. All this would be a brief, awkward memory. I could add it to...