“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.”
“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
“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
Or get the Kindle ebook here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LTQBXSC
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.
“Well, shit,” said Bodean, joining Nancy on the floor. “You ever heard a cat make a sound like that?” Continue reading Polly
“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
Word of the day: tertiary, adj., of the third order, rank, stage, formation, etc.; third.
Okay, diary, get ready for this, I know I’ve been throwing a lot of poop your way lately, but today was actually a good day. I know. Weird.
It didn’t start out all fluffy bunnies and rainbows. There were no seats on the bus so I had to ask this girl to move her backpack, but she totally ignored me. She’s kind of a gangster, but she’s usually okay. She just turned her head and looked out the window, like I didn’t exist. Already feeling like a ghost over here! You don’t have to rub it in! I tried another seat, and this kid moved his backpack, but with this heavy sigh as if I was asking him to do my laundry. Continue reading Dear Diary
“Sir! Do you realize that your state senator is a murderer?”
“No thank you.”
“Did you hear me? Senator Smith is a murderer! He must be brought to justice!”
“What? The guy with the …”
“Yes, the one with the big ears. He killed four people, and he’s not fit to represent our state!”
“Have you checked Snopes on this? Sounds fake.” Continue reading Why I Don’t Sign Petitions Anymore
The bees were getting restless. They had been waiting for over an hour for the humans to arrive, and they began eyeing the pretty yellow meadow flowers.
“Couldn’t we …” began Fluzz, “… I mean it seems stupid to sit around doing nothing … couldn’t we collect some nectar while we wait?”
Guzz had been pacing but stopped to consider. After a moment she shook her antennae from side to side. “No no no … please don’t. Then you’ll want to return to the hive and that’s when they’ll come.” Continue reading A Fresh Start
The sideshow acts had been run-of-the-mill. I saw a bearded lady and a man who ate glass. At the end of a line of tents sat one with no sign. The barker invited me in and I asked what I would see.
“Something that must be seen to be believed.” Continue reading Dixie
When I swung forward, I leaned back so far that the trees were upside down. I enjoyed the giddy feeling in my stomach, but eventually the rope burned my hands and I got off the swing and swayed, slightly dizzy, on the ground. The rope was tied to a tree limb at the top and to an old tire at the bottom. I looked down the gentle hill at the carpet of brown and yellow leaves which gave way to grass and then our house and then more grass and then Freeport Drive and then the hill where I rode my bike and the freedom of being 10 years old in Burlington Massachusetts circa 1980. Continue reading Freeport Drive
Yuri led an ordered life. He woke up at 7 am, and his breakfast always included half a grapefruit eaten with a serrated spoon. It took him 12½ minutes to bike to his job as a network security consultant and 13½ minutes to bike back (he lived uphill). The hour before bedtime was spent reading on the couch in his living room. At 11 pm he went to bed, and, because he slept soundly and didn’t dream, the time until 7 am the following morning didn’t exist for him.
Then Yuri got a cat…
Read the rest at Crack the Spine