He left the meeting sagging, a half inflated pool toy sinking in the acrid water. The sun was making him sweat, though he hadn't though that was possible. He's sweat so much during the interview he felt as desiccated as one of those silica packets they put in electronics to keep them dry.
Vanquished. Again. Another job lost because of flop sweat and his perplexing genetic gift of turning bright red under any form of pressure. How had his ancestors managed to carry their seed so far up the line? A bunch of panicky, stammering fools who traded flight or...
I didn't mean to do it- Honest to God, I swear he left me no choice. It was like he watered down my tea on purpose, just to irritate me. And he was always acting so suave to my mistresses, as if he owned the goddamn place. So yes, I shot my butler. But not to kill him or anything, really, I just wanted to scare him a little, I was never gonna pull the stupid trigger or anything. So I pull out the measly little hand gun, and he just goes white as his dainty little gloves he was...
2070.
Dadi saes the Fires arnt the saem az wen HE wus a boy, wen the Nasties furst desided that storis cud be bad fur us. It wus bak then wen they also saed jewels wer bad. I can't se wy tho, az ther all shiny and glittry, but Dadi saes the jewels wer to blam for al the money bein taken from the pore and stuf. Maybe its becos jewels ar wurth so much.
Aniwai, this buk burning isnt az big as wen Dadi was iung, befor he gru up and becam a Nasty himself. Now Dadi finds buks...
Divinity. Envied by those less fortunate to be born into royalty and riches. I look at the fat men that I cater to and the goddess-like wives. Oh how I despise these fat sultans of our backwards society. I watch everyday, as they come down to the pool, indulging their disgusting appetites, and scarfing down another man's hard labor. Ceaselessly, they surround themselves with more and more food, women, and indignifying entertainment. How is it that there is such a place where the fat and lazy sit on their asses all day, where as the hard, working, and noble servant...
"Someone left the goddammed gate open again, and the dog took off," my father yelled from the backyard.
Me and Bill were in the back shed smoking a crooked hash joint. When he started yelling, Bill panicked and dropped it, and then crushed it under his foot. But he didn't realize he wasn't wearing any shoes. He screamed as the cherry burnt into his sole.
I swallowed hard and waited for the inevitable.
Four deep breaths later, the door swung open on rusty hinges and my dad stood there, Taking up the whole of the doorway, blocking out the sun....
The warm breeze touched her face, sparking memories of his fingertips and how they would brush her hair from her eyes in their moments of tenderness. She remained standing still, her eyes closed, for some time.
Eventually she opened them and looked down the grassy hill to the town below, the tall ships in the harbour, the people bustling on the docks. He was there. Somewhere.
She could see his ship off in the distance, it's distinctive sails billowing in the wind. Glancing back down at the dock she wondered when others would spot it.
After what seemed like an...
She opened the envelope and screamed.
"I won! I won!" Curt's ears perked up and he looked over to see Miriam jumping up and down, holding a letter in her hand. He shrugged and went back to reading the daily news.
"Curt! Darling! Did you hear? I won!" Miriam continue to shout. Her wrinkled hands clutched the now crumbled letter. The perm her hairdresser had so fastidiously created fell slightly with each jump.
"I heard." Curt sighed. The Red Sox had lost last night and even though he had watched the entire game, he read through the article.
"Don't you...
I couldn't sleep with her next to me. I couldn't sleep anywhere as matter of fact. To watch someone become lost in their on ways and forget the ways of others. I decided to go for a walk just to clear my head. I come to the park see a bum sleeping under the funny pages. I decided to part ways with my jack. I feel the night's chilly embrace. I walk back home hoping I can forgive her betrayal. sigh
Laugharne - pronounced "Laaarnn" to rhyme with yarn, but rolled out a little further - at night, with the graveyard gently graced by the occasional working street light and our torches. Us searching for interesting stories told on the tombs and plaques of the interred locals, who at times had meant something to the small church community that regularly overflowed the tiny, overgrown car park. My wife spooked at times by sounds and smells of Rectory Barn farm next door. We share imaginings of ages past, whispered in chiseled words on stone. This one died young. That one, an alderman,...
Ridiculous. He had never been so ill-treated in his whole life. To think that such an imbecilic, poorly-dressed, snivel-nosed shit could have the AUDACITY to pour a saintly bordeaux all over his wife put such beet red hues into his cheeks as to suggest asphyxiation, or potential heart failure.
The fat man shook, with an angry tectonic rumble, and the whole room seemed to hold slack for his reaction, volatile elements stirring with life...
"What in the hell do you THINK you ARE DOING!??" the fat fuck rumbles. His gold watch chain jangles with the bulbous rolling of his obese...