Troubled Water

O’Grady sits in the armchair with the reading lamp on. The clock tells him it is 10:45, and the light from the window tells him it is morning. The armchair is new, bought just a few weeks ago, and so it puzzles him that the armrests are threadbare. They don’t make them like they used to. Continue reading Troubled Water

“Thanksgiving” at Eyedrum Periodically

“We give thanks for the sun, whose energy feeds this great Earth, which, in turn, feeds us.

“We give thanks for the ocean, whose purple waters support our many-limbed body, providing the bed on which we sleep and the
platform on which we work.

“We give thanks for the pale green sky whose beauty inspires us even as it protects us from harmful cosmic radiation…”

Read the rest at Eyedrum Periodically

Everything in between

After 421 years guarding the graveyard without much happening, I got sleepy, so I took a nap. Big mistake.

I’m not sure how much time passed. What did I miss? Other than the usual, that is: vines knotting the graves, roots digging into earth and stone, moss growing, oak leaves rotting, worms and slugs and rabbits and foxes foraging for food, earthquakes and thunderstorms and bright sunny days too. Life and death and everything in between. Continue reading Everything in between

“The Last Man on Earth” at Change Seven

“Which is better, a flush or a straight?”

Raul ruffled the tops of his cards and bit his lip. He nudged Hammersmith, who was staring into the rafters of the theater, his jaw slack.

“What?” Hammersmith asked groggily.

Julia returned from the bathroom and opened another can of grapefruit soda.

“Which is better, a flush or a straight?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

Hammersmith got up to stretch and threw his cards carelessly on the table, revealing three jacks.

“Damn, you fold with a hand like that Hammersmith? Damn.”

“I don’t fold. I just don’t want to play cards anymore.”

“I get your Cheetos.”

“Whatever.”

“What do you want to do?” Julia asked, looking at Hammersmith while laying her head on the table and allowing her arms to dangle to the floor.

“The play, man! Let’s do the fucking play!”

“Why do you have to use the f-word all the time?” asked Raul.

Read the rest at Change Seven

“Making the List” at Metaphorosis

“It started with a routine-sounding letter from my health insurance company. I opened it quickly because I was in the mood for a snack, and there was a little picture of cherries on the lower right corner of the envelope indicating that they had used cherry-flavored paper, my favorite. I learned that I would need to get a full DNA sequencing done by the end of the year. Reasonable enough, I thought, as I tore off little pieces of the letter and let the sweet and sour cellulose dissolve on my tongue.”

Read the rest at Metaphorosis

Polly

My shtick had admittedly gotten stale. I would say, “Hello! Woooo-oooop!” Then I would sway from side to side, rub my beak on my perch and say, “Whadaya mean, crazy?” Bodean got a kick out of that the first, oh, ten times I did it.

But still, what a fuss they made over that cat. The first time the cat spoke, Bodean paused The Price is Right and remarked to Nancy, “That did not sound like a hairball.” Nancy got down on the floor and cooed, “What’s wrong Banksy? I hope you’re not sick!” Banksy leaned into the caress of her hand and repeated his first word in a crackly voice, as if he found it extremely important.

“Golf.”

“Well, shit,” said Bodean, joining Nancy on the floor. “You ever heard a cat make a sound like that?” Continue reading Polly

Pulling Weeds

“Good morning, Brother Chris. Your tomatoes are spectacular.”

“Praise be to God.”

“Would you like some help weeding?”

“Thank you, Brother Jacob, I would love some. My knees are killing me.”

“Are they? You always look so content here, working in your garden.”

“I am, in mind and spirit, but the body does have a tendency to complain.” Continue reading Pulling Weeds