Sunday, August 19, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Neoclassical Warrior
That morning she discussed Two Trax on the phone with a very close friend from the institute. An incoming call from her brother beeped exhaustively, ignored in its tracks. Just a few phone calls would have revealed her recent departure to him.
As a child her chosen tactic toward her brother's snide remarks had been to spit on him. It came to define the extremes of her irreverent and saucy character. Ten years later she found herself regretting those choices and many others.
Llewellyn was wearing a pink lined blouse. It was a gift from her grandmother and she had kept it out of courtesy with no intent to ever wear it. It happened to be the only decent article of clothing left to her since her expulsion from the institute. The rest had been burned in a political maneuver by the institute's staff.
---------------
Outside the restaurant, Llewellyn ambled by Fat And Happy eying the freshly dropped cigarettes of passersby and retrieving the ashing butts which she would inhale to an even unhappier nub.
"Not quite fat enough for the circus," a patron lady remarked after Llewellyn.
Llewellyn loved making married women happy. In her pleasant reverie she never expected to catch a glimpse of him bounding through the strip mall's parking lot. If only he had known about Llewellyn sooner. Unbeknownst to him, the final decision had been his.
As a child her chosen tactic toward her brother's snide remarks had been to spit on him. It came to define the extremes of her irreverent and saucy character. Ten years later she found herself regretting those choices and many others.
Llewellyn was wearing a pink lined blouse. It was a gift from her grandmother and she had kept it out of courtesy with no intent to ever wear it. It happened to be the only decent article of clothing left to her since her expulsion from the institute. The rest had been burned in a political maneuver by the institute's staff.
---------------
Outside the restaurant, Llewellyn ambled by Fat And Happy eying the freshly dropped cigarettes of passersby and retrieving the ashing butts which she would inhale to an even unhappier nub.
"Not quite fat enough for the circus," a patron lady remarked after Llewellyn.
Llewellyn loved making married women happy. In her pleasant reverie she never expected to catch a glimpse of him bounding through the strip mall's parking lot. If only he had known about Llewellyn sooner. Unbeknownst to him, the final decision had been his.
Looking Down
Wedding attire—business majors—and the familiar clack of yuppy on concrete. If only something could remind them of their youth or the fact that they'll be lucky enough to see the next half-century. And to stay in fashion, you have to run at more than a trot. And that in itself makes them important.
The man with the sunflowers knows exactly what he's investing in.
The man with the sunflowers knows exactly what he's investing in.
Double Happiness
"I remember," he drooled "mushroom caps." Frankly he didn't give a damn. But Daft really, really wanted to stay married this time, if not for the rest of his life. And at this moment, he would have settled for the rest of the night.
Daft had been anxiously driving around town and at midnight he promised himself a quick stop. He had to eat. He had never listened to Gloria's advice before, but for some reason he was now taking her advice, when no one would know, and while it would no longer matter if he told her.
Gas station bananas. The staple of a very lost bachelor. On previous occasions he had argued with Gloria about the deliciousness of a brown gas station banana. He'd pontificate on the sacred sweetness of the potassium-enriched fruit.
Stuffing the banana's innards into his stubbled and gaunt cheeks, he grabbed another and gestured the strokes of a rigorous masterbatory session out the window of his Turbo-Saab convertible. A few onlookers stared blankly at his obvious grab for attention, then turned away in pity and disgust.
Leaving the gas station, Daft got a stroke of inspiration. He turned his car onto the main road and drove in a familiar direction.
Pulling up to his secret box-shaped building, he caught a glimpse of his latest "ex-venture." The only factor making this "venture" tangible being her recent employment at Just A Handful—his favorite titty bar. Daft had not once dated a woman in the city, but he would frequently find girls and follow them around town. It made him feel powerful to witness their intimate moments in secret. He had first found Lurline considering her darkened reflection from the reverse side of a window. Daft totally unseen. Lurline vulnerably exposed. Framed in a window that was painted with faded red pigment sun-dyed to pink, he thought she looked beautiful and tragic.
Daft had been anxiously driving around town and at midnight he promised himself a quick stop. He had to eat. He had never listened to Gloria's advice before, but for some reason he was now taking her advice, when no one would know, and while it would no longer matter if he told her.
Gas station bananas. The staple of a very lost bachelor. On previous occasions he had argued with Gloria about the deliciousness of a brown gas station banana. He'd pontificate on the sacred sweetness of the potassium-enriched fruit.
Stuffing the banana's innards into his stubbled and gaunt cheeks, he grabbed another and gestured the strokes of a rigorous masterbatory session out the window of his Turbo-Saab convertible. A few onlookers stared blankly at his obvious grab for attention, then turned away in pity and disgust.
Leaving the gas station, Daft got a stroke of inspiration. He turned his car onto the main road and drove in a familiar direction.
Pulling up to his secret box-shaped building, he caught a glimpse of his latest "ex-venture." The only factor making this "venture" tangible being her recent employment at Just A Handful—his favorite titty bar. Daft had not once dated a woman in the city, but he would frequently find girls and follow them around town. It made him feel powerful to witness their intimate moments in secret. He had first found Lurline considering her darkened reflection from the reverse side of a window. Daft totally unseen. Lurline vulnerably exposed. Framed in a window that was painted with faded red pigment sun-dyed to pink, he thought she looked beautiful and tragic.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Lean, Mean, Biothermy Machine
Foreseen. A device that converts your fat into lean. The energy of the conversion is used to power your electronics/machines.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Start-up
Daft's wife chased him out of the driveway, screaming "I wish you dead. I wish I had never met you. Die." Punctuating her latest epithet, she quickly grabbed an old hand-weight from the unused pile next to his office and chucked it at his car. The weight landed in the middle of his Turbo-Saab-canvas-convertible top, and quickly sagged until it tore a hole the size of her angry fist.
Unfazed, Daft continued to lurch the car backward off the driveway and coax it onto the main road. He had known that his marriage was a single shred of wheat. But he began to consider that he might truly be unloved. And not only that, he was acutely aware that Sex is the only reason to Do anything. Let alone: create, think, innovate, build, dream. And Love is the only good reason to sex. (There are other reasons, but it's the only good one.)
Daft was failing. And he had the distinct sense that it was about to get much worse.
Unfazed, Daft continued to lurch the car backward off the driveway and coax it onto the main road. He had known that his marriage was a single shred of wheat. But he began to consider that he might truly be unloved. And not only that, he was acutely aware that Sex is the only reason to Do anything. Let alone: create, think, innovate, build, dream. And Love is the only good reason to sex. (There are other reasons, but it's the only good one.)
Daft was failing. And he had the distinct sense that it was about to get much worse.
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