Thursday, December 8, 2016

1,003. RICO

I was laying in bed reading a pamphlet from 1970 on the RICO Act.
My feet were sticking out of the blankets at the bottom of the bed.
There was a cut on my left foot that looked like a red smile.
I wondered, looking at the pamphlet and the cut on my foot, if there was a "bad guy" in me, waiting to get out.

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

1,002. Melba toast years

The doorjamb was the size and consistency of Melba toast.
It was, in fact, Melba toast.
Imagine us, us fat cats, using foodstuffs for non-nutritive ends.
Those were warm, full years of plenty.

Monday, December 5, 2016

1,001. He/she

The letter was persuasive.
He was obviously a gifted writer.
Except he was actually a she.
And, she was actually four smarter-than-average badgers.

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

1,000. Private meetings

Cheryl didn't know - or didn't care - the difference between a private meeting and a not-private meeting.
She would memorize things people said long enough to get back to her typewriter.
Cigarette burning low in the ashtray beside her, she'd type people's words on index cards then affix them to the lamp post in front of the office using tape from the supply closet.
This was a long time before the Internet.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

999. Fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth horsemen of the apocalypse

Cobras.
Trump, obviously.
Giant comet.
Cecil.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

998. Hotel of Horror: 3.5 Stars

Why are all the bathtubs in our hotel coffin-shaped?
Because it's a spooooky hotel, I'll tell you.
I'm kidding.
There was an eight percent discount on them from our fixture supplier.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

997. Game changer

"This new deep fryer is going to be a game changer," she said.
She was leaning in to whisper at her colleagues in the matching polos.
Her eyes had the look of someone gripped with a fever.
"A game changer," she said again, to no one in particular.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

996. Not Ralph

An electric tea kettle is not Ralph.
Neither Bactrian nor dromedary camels are Ralph.
The several stools at your local diner are not Ralph.
Only Ralph is Ralph, and he knows this.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

995. The woman who watches

In a building across from the pink-lit room, Paula watched her husband Paul.
He did not know this.
She watched him for years to see if he'd changed.
She watched for so long she no longer knew what she was watching for.

Monday, September 26, 2016

994. What goes on in the pink-lit room

They speculated often about the pink-lit apartment across the way.
They were always wrong, of course.
Paul kept the apartment lit in his wife Paula's favourite colour, hoping she'd change her mind and come back to him.
It was a lighthouse in a sea of condominium buildings trying vainly to call her home.