We stepped into the girls apartment and they removed their slutty clothes. Now they were naked. I sat down on the couch. One of them turned on the stereo. Prince was singing GETT OFF from his 1991 album Diamonds and Pearls.
The girls danced naked for me. They grinded their private parts on my knees and did naughty things. They licked their lips and talked dirty.
"You girls are very pretty," I said. "And if I was a guy who wanted to get laid then I would be very horny and my penis would probably not be flacid. However, I...
Captive. Surrounded by watr, the woman could not breathe, could not fight, could not even open her eyes. Her waist was bound and her feet were weighted and she was sinking. Soon to be erased.
The man in the boat had asked her one last question before he rolled her out. Now, sinking like a parachuter, she did not think about her little boy at home, or her parents (they would be so sad), or all the things she would leave behind. No. Her last moments, the last grains of sand in her proverbial hourglass, and Mari was thinking about...
Chopin and nature. Like a French-pressed cup of coffee and Swiss chocolate.
But was it nature that inspired this feast for the eyes? How did Chopin filter out the noise to create his masterpiece? Must I do the same?
I switch to Vivaldi, an upbeat piece known for it's nature qualities. The Four Seasons. Ahh...that's perfect. I sink into the hammock, the soft southern breeze cooling my hair as I rock gently back and forth. Lulled to sleep by a dead guy...
I wake up. This is all wrong. This can't be right. I'm missing something...
The song is over,...
Marie Antoinette sat in the tub, eating chocolate truffles and drinking champagne. Her ruffled leggings lay in a heap on the floor. She thought as she looked out the window that she was ever the perfect Mademoiselle. She gazed out onto the misty countryside, daydreaming. Although, what could she dream about? She was living her dream. She took another bite of chocolate and smiled.
Just then, her little sister's pink range rover came trundling into the driveway, reminding her that it was 2015 and she was not in France. She would not marry her prince, because princes don't exist nowadays....
It was the fall that surprised me the most.
The winter, she was fine. Spring, slowly getting sick, Summer, even sicker.
In fall, she fully recovered from stage 3 liver cancer. There was someone to thank. God or someone.
It could have been the praying, or just hoping we didn't lose her. She was only 7. 7-year-olds aren't supposed to just die from liver cancer. Ella's better now, though. It's easy to believe in something when a dying child makes a full recovery from something so evil as that.
So God, or someone, thank you. It was God or someone...
The shoes, though pink and shiny and paired with flat white tights, were not what you wanted. "They are not ballerina shoes," you protested, knowing very well the difference from the ballet flats and the pointe shoes and just regular human shoes.
"I want some like yours," you said.
Your mother no longer wore her ballet shoes; she had once been a prima ballerina, and there were photographs of her and postcards in sepia tones that captured her in a moment of what seemed like effortless grace. Arm raised, elbow bent at such an angle that she looked like the...
I have no beef with people over the age of 25, but this week, if you're a "youngin'," just watch the hell out because you're dealing with The 34-Year Old Curmudgeon. I will lay out a buffet of whup-ass on you so hard that you'll wish your skinny jeans had extra padding in the seat area.
I'll show you places on your body you never would have dreamed an iPad would fit (with a little jimmying and perhaps some Crisco). I'll shake my imaginary cane at you and scream at you to get the hell off of my theoretical lawn,...
Millions. Well, it seemed like millions anyway. Millions of girls in colorful ball gowns crowded into the auditorium. Millions, and I could only choose one. They all stood in silence waiting for me. I looked over my shoulder at my smiling parents sitting on their thrones. I took a deep breath and got ready to make my announcement.
"Friends, I thank you all for coming to witness the announcement as to which of you will be my bride." I scanned the sea of young women in front of me. "That woman is..." I stop short. A girl in a white...
Nothing made sense.
Her eyes ached - the more she studied them, the less the words made sense. The words weren't working, they weren't doing their duty, they were just shapes on the wall. They blurred out of focus - was she just tired, was it her eyes?
Or were the words willfully confusing her? Was it deliberate? A merry dance they were leading her on?
She traced them with her fingertips - that couldn't be right, they were letters carved into the stone, they couldn't shift (ink, she could accept, could flow, could shift, but these were stone words,...
She didn't look at him.
"So that's my answer, is it?" He stared at her, hoping, praying for - well, anything. Any kind of response. A show of emotion.
She didn't look at him.
"Fine. If - if that's how it is, if that's - fine." He wanted the weight to lift from his shoulders, now that he knew the truth, he wanted something to happen, some kind of change - he wanted to feel something.
There was nothing. He was numb. He wasn't even angry, he just felt cold.
"So I'll be going then."
Her back was to him...