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I heard toenails slipping on linoleum in the kitchenette off my office. Only Dogs create that sound; and sure enough, upon inspection, I discovered the “Baw Brothers,” Beezer and Barkevious, teaming to raid the refrigerator. I am guilty of leaving the fridge door ajar, so this situation happens almost constantly.
Continue reading “The Adventures of Beezer and Barkevious by Leila Allison”
Today’s treat is from an author who has already been published by us so do check out her back catalogue. We thought this piece would speak to many of us. That niggle that you know is unreasonable but by gum you can’t let it go. Amusing but very well observed. We give you In a Word – enjoy
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In a Word by Karen Uttien
This morning, I watched a woman walk towards me. By the time she reached me, I had assessed her in one word. Privileged.
Gold Gucci sandals complimented the little black dress, swaying elegantly just above her knee. Large fashionable sunglasses accentuated glossy red lips. Long dark hair rolled playfully down her back. Golden sun-bronzed skin – a recent trip on a private yacht no doubt.
As she walked past, Chanel No. 5 overwhelmed me. Consuming me all the way home. So much so, by the time I got there, I had reassessed the woman entirely.
Her hair, although beautiful, was rather too long. Tired. Her skin was over-baked. Withering. Her pouty lips, somewhat sulky. And the sunglasses – I suspected were masking a congregation.
Yes. This once highly desired woman, was hanging on for dear life. In a word. Madonna.
Now, you realise this assessment is probably not true. No. But it does tell a truth; no one knows how others see you. Which brings me to this little story …
*
It was my friend’s 40th birthday. A best friend. Let’s call her Jenny.
There was me and Jenny. Her other three best friends, and our partners. So, 10 of us.
Jenny’s a bit flash. And very generous. A superb combination.
She hired a room on the top floor in a very fancy restaurant.
We were greeted by Don Perignon and sculptured canapes. Then glided to our seats. Chairs pulled out. Napkins draped. Swarovski filled with sparkling from the Nile itself.
There were somewhere between six and way-too-many delectable courses, each paired with our precious chef’s personally selected wines.
The sheer privilege, my new dress, the altitude, and Don – all attributed equally to my giddy happiness. The entire room now reflecting nothing less than a woozy beehive overflowing with honey.
Then, just as I thought I might explode with glee, came the speech.
‘… I have thought of one word to describe each of you,’ Jenny said, pointing. ‘You. And you. And you! What each of you are to me. My. Dear. Dear. Friends.’
She began on her right.
Inspiring. Loyal. Thoughtful. Fun. Adventurous …
Now – as I said earlier – I know one can’t see how others see you but, when Jenny and I exchange our fond twenty-five-year friendship smile, I was not expecting –
‘Dependable!’ I yelped.
The night went on and my volatile happiness wafted into a small headache.
We said our good-byes and clambered into a taxi.
As we drove along the highway, a giant billboard illuminated the skyline shouting … DEPENDABLE DRYCLEANERS!! I nodded sadly, and fell asleep.
*
That was nearly ten years ago. I still bring it up. Still throw it out to new audiences for discussion. Most agree it is an excellent trait … on a resume. And everyone most certainly would use a dependable drycleaner.
I have brought it up with Jenny. Several times. She stands by it. I should let it go, but …
The last time I felt so aggrieved – I was six. We were to perform Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Swineherd” for our end-of-year panto and, without doubt, I would be the princess.
‘But princesses don’t wear pink jumpsuits and curly tails,’ I explained to stupid Mrs Elliot.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs stated that there was no such thing as coincidence.
By the way, Mark Harmin has never done better than when he played Bundy in ‘The Deliberate Stranger’
But we had a coincidence this week. Our lovely Diane’s Sunday Section intertwined with something I read and that gave me fuel for this posting.
Continue reading “Week 479 – A Curley Wurley Was Only 3p, Faye Wray Was A Screaming Bitch And I Dare You, No, I double Dare you!!”
“It’s not that bad.” Dad gestures to the person talking on the laptop, the map behind lit up in a spectrum of shifting colors. “Look, the worst of it is already east of here.”
Continue reading “The Blanket Fort of Steel by Wolf Epley”
My mom died yesterday. No bull, well maybe a tiny bull, by the time you read this it may have been last week, last month, or last year, but I’m pretty sure she will still be dead. I am not astonished. I am not mollified. I am not even a tad bit sad. By contrast, my German Shepherd died four months ago, and I had to be medicated. Our relationship was not a good one, the one with my mom, not the dog. I loved my dog.
Continue reading “My Mom Died Yesterday by Zora Foote”
“There’s a toll for everything…the toll for happiness is often sorrow.” — James Carr
Would you opt for a different life if you had the choice? This is the question I asked myself, a question so burning that it dampened my palms; it’s also the question I needed to ask my best friend, Charlie, because we both hated our lives—just as much as the guy who pulled up to my booth on that icy evening. Under the amber lights, his red Jaguar gleamed like a ruby. Decked out in a fancy camel-hair overcoat, he told me he was gonna jump off the bridge.
Continue reading “The Toll Collector by Jack Kamm”
I’ve always listened to humming here in this old house of mine, thinking so many times from my early years that it was the universe humming, or the humming of the gods coming to sensitive me, especially in that period around my 12th year when my imagination ran wild.
Continue reading “Behind this Stone by Tom Sheehan”
First thing is this: You didn’t catch me. You aren’t smart enough to catch me. I gave up. I confessed. That’s it. Make sure you get it right.
Second thing is this: I have regret. I mean it. I really feel bad about killing those people. Except that first guy, but that’s different, because he deserved it. But the other six? Okay, yeah, maybe some more than others, but I have regret.
You want me to run through them? Fine. Take notes, because I’m not doing this twice.
Continue reading “The Confession of the Mayo Killer by Thurman Hart”
For this fine Sunday we present two little pieces written by our own Diane M. Dickson. One is an article the other is one of those odds and ends tales best suited for this feature in its own indefinable little way.
Continue reading “Sunday Whatever: A Double Shot of Diane M. Dickson”
Roughly speaking, there are more than six-hundred thousand words in the English language (minus the stuff you see on medicine jar labels). The average English speaker’s vocabulary is between twenty and thirty-five thousand words. Anyone can contribute new words to the language; Mr Shakespeare added seventeen-hundred now commonly used words on his own. But with so many words, it is inevitable that some of the juicier ones are often overlooked. (Quick disclaimer–the obviously googled numbers produced many results–I selected the sanest looking source to quote.)
Continue reading “Week 478: We Keep Playing Them Word Games Forever”
literally stories 