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Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category


99nnbI love paper – old books, pretty patterns, and foreign magazines. I rescue broken books and posters from the garbage heap. And then they’re all just here and I don’t do anything with them. Tonight I have the urge to rip them all apart; keep the best parts; shuffle them around; and bind them back together, making something different.

It’s this souped up hyper feeling and all I can think about is tearing into these books. It’s an itch you can’t scratch. Why can’t I get some obsessive urge to do something positive? Will I spend the next three days ripping up books to find myself surrounded by piles of paper?

Already I know this feeling will be followed by a round of anxiety and then exhausted depression. That part I’m afraid of. If I knew I would wind up with something; a great novel, a painting, or some break through research, I would plunge ahead, depression be damned.

Maybe just tonight under the cover of darkness I’ll free some pages from their old bindings. I’ll take my medicine and in the morning I’ll try to redirect myself in a positive direction.

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Taking Fake Book Covers by Comedian Scott Rogowsky

asian girlfreindfake book cover 2funny-fake-book-covers-prank-scott-rogowskyfunny-fake-book-covers-prank-scott-rogowsky-8godhold a fartmath asiansmuder for dummieswomen deserve lessnot pornsacrifice

Check out his videos on YouTube.

Here’s one to get you started

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90 (4)

Dear Kitten,

My paintbrushes are not kitty chew toys. Please stop taking them from the jar on my desk.

Dear Kitten,

Please stop lying on my freshly painted work. I know “up” is your favorite place. But I put them “up” high so you wouldn’t get to them.

Dear Kitten,

Though the paints are nontoxic, I don’t think you should drink the rinse water. Does it really taste that great?

Dear Kitten,

When I went to answer the phone that was not permission for you to walk on my stamp pad and then across my desk.

Dear Kitten,

When I woke up this morning and you were sleeping with your head on the pillow next to mine, I forgot all the annoying things you did yesterday.

 

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389

Could this be the future?

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green jewel

Shapeless lumps of teeth and flesh surround me, clawing and biting at my arms. Their talons are careful not to tear the green, Grecian gown I wear. Together we rise slowly from the pit.

A great flash of light.

I drop to a crouch, hugging my knees to my chest. The creatures ignite falling in columns of ash around me.

I wake to blazing lights cutting across the sky, punctuated by a barrage of thunder. The storm rages outside and I am sweat drenched in bed.

If I could paint the images in my head. The cavernous hall, filled with sights and words I cannot banish. I try to chase the ravens from my window sill, but they always return wanting more.

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53 (9)

Hey Maybelle, the dish needs adjusting.

Why me?

Because you’re in charge of dishes.

I’ve been thinking again. This time about tourettes. I worked with a guy who had tourettes, but he only twitched when he got nervous. He didn’t yell out random obscenities. I thought he should just for fun. I would.

I would begin all meetings with –

“I want to apologize in advance. I have tourettes. When I get nervous I may say a few inappropriate words or phrase. Which can quickly snowball since my nerves will increase the more words I say.”

Then at some point I’ll break in with –

“Holy crap.

Damn it.

Turkey butt.

Sorry ass.

Son of a bitch.

Can those peaches, honey buns!

Sorry my Grandpa was a frugal man.”

And thus would end the meeting on a high note.

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lightbulb moth

“It’s a beautiful day…” Argh!

Do you ever get songs stuck in your head?

I have a few songs that I seem to cycle through. When I try to stop one another begins.

My usual “… I need you baby and if it’s quite alright I need you baby until the morning light. I need you baby trust in me when I say …” over and over. And I don’t even know the rest of the words.

An oldie She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes, three verses. Are you kidding me? I know three verses of that song. Must be deeply embedded from my childhood. (verses two and three if anyone is curious – she’ll be driving six white horses and we’ll all go out to meet her…)

And drum roll please. This morning’s song – It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood from Sesame Street. No. No, it’s not beautiful day in the neighborhood because that song is stuck in my head!

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7 (7)

“I can’t let little Billy chew gum. He keeps swallowing it,” one of my friends, Anna said picking through her cob salad, no bacon, no onions, no eggs, no cheese, no ham, no croutons, dressing on the side.

I know what’s left, right?

“That’s so unhealthy,” Barbara, another of my friends agreed. She was still moving her plain chicken breast and broccoli around her plate.

Tammy was eating a “hamburger” sans the bread, ketchup, mustard, mayo, pickles and cheese.

They were all on a diet of some sort: Anna low fat, Barbara low carb and Tammy paleo.

“You know it takes a month to digest,” Tammy said.

“I know,” Anna agreed.

Barbara nodded.

The waitress set my second margarita in front of me. I was on the liquid diet, my favorite. “Seriously?” I exclaimed, loudly. I did say it was my second margarita, extra tequila. “You believe that?”

They and half the restaurant turned to look at me.

Anna rolled her eyes, “Didn’t we ban her from her tequila diet last summer?”

“You believe that gum sits in your stomach without digesting for a month? Oh my God, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Yeah, I think I’m remembering why.” Barbara whispered to Anna sighing.

“I can tell you for a fact that isn’t true,” I continued. “If chewing gum didn’t digest for a month, swallowing gum would be a cheap form of bariatric surgery. I’d swallow a whole pack every wee. It doesn’t stay in your stomach forever.”

“I love her on this diet.” Tammy laughed, hailing the waitress. “She’s about ready for her third.

(Based on a real life conversation. After that much tequila, you know who you are.)

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horse forest

(I know it’s not a flying horse. Use your imagination.)

Instead of falling asleep last night, I was wondering if Pegasus was a flying horse. As in the only flying horse or a species of flying horses. I pondered that for quite a while before thinking, “God should have made some of those”.

If there were flying horses, would anyone have bothered to invent airplanes or would they have just been off flying around on their horses?

Would I have flown to Baltimore on my horse this week? And what kind of apparel would we need for horse flying? My outfit would have been red, linen, matching the trim on my flying horses saddle and the ribbons braided in his hair. Yeah with white pompoms on his wing covers. (It was raining, so yeah I said wing covers.)

Would there be horse flying sports and recreations? Would hotels have flying horse stables?

That’s about the time I realized one of us didn’t take our medication to stop obsessive thoughts. No wonder one of us wasn’t falling asleep.

P.S. I had an anxiety attack on the airplane and was nauseous all day long. I bet I wouldn’t have been anxious riding my flying horse.

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My apologies to anyone who was offended by this post. That was not my intention. I have weighed less than 95 pounds for most of my life. I grew up in extreme poverty. We didn’t have food everyday, so I was malnurished until adulthood. We lived in miserable circumstances without food, heat, hot water, and proper clothing. We survived by finding humor in everything, even the holes in our shoes. Nothing was so sacred that we couldn’t laugh about it. My intention wasn’t to upset and devalue anyone, rather to find humor in all circumstances.

Thank you for letting me know your feelings on this topic and so to keep from upsetting anyone else, I have chosen to remove this post in its entirety. Please forgive my irreverence.

Best Regards,

Dee

puzzle city woman

 

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