Wednesday, December 30, 2015

920. Carpetbagger

What does it mean when you hear a strange word twice in short order?
It's weird, right?
There, now you've said it a third time.
You're making me fucking paranoid, man.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

919. Miracle miracle

Rachel sat on an airport toilet.
She swiped this way and that, eradicating any chance she'd cross paths with a person whose digital opinions she found distasteful.
"It's all shit," she thought.
But what an age of miracles.

918. The Clay Eaters

There's an old quarry near where I was born - red sandstone.
The stone formed over millennia as the red clay in the ground dried.
I think about that red clay sometimes; generations of people here with that clay in their blood.
I bet they shit the stuff.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

917. Lung capacity

They breathe deeply; drowning men and women savouring their last sweet fix of air.
The driver won't wait any longer.
Dejected, they stub out cigarettes still long with promise.
The last man, flicks away the smoldering edge and tucks half a smoke in his breast pocket.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

916. No one is greater than the municipal building code

The town had a fraudulent geography.
The buildings - all the same height, give or take - made navigation almost impossible.
He wandered, at last, to a church with an unfinished sign: Jesus' word.
"Which one(s)?" he wondered.

Monday, December 14, 2015

915. AC/DC

Mom, Dad, I'm leaving school to join a tribute band.
You'll say dentistry is a secure and enviable career, but I have to follow my heart.
I hope you understand.
You've been, Thunderstruck.

Friday, December 4, 2015

914. The Doctor

One day, quite out of the blue, the doctor came to believe he was a dog.
He thought as a dog, behaved as a dog.
After awhile, there was not so much of the doctor left anymore.
He was a good boy.