Dreaming of sea winds, his hands traced the supple, muscular lines of her bare back. He felt every strum- every reach for that chord.
She found it!
Smiling, he rested his hand on her shoulder. She trapped his hand with her chin.
He was grasping at air. She was gone.
He sighed heavily, “Maybe tomorrow.”
Sea Plus Planets
Writing Is A Risky Business
“It’s worthless and not fit to coat the inside of a pig’s intestine.”
But, he was warned when he announced he was taking his manuscript to G. Harvester, The Editor of Doom- You’ll either be a star, or you’ll fill his inkwell.
Harvester’s quill got fresh red ink, and no one heard from Bobby again.
The Opus
The post-Outland fall was tragic. There was only one avenue for a well hung, silent penguin, and that was the grind of the penguin porn industry. But, even that gave out.
Fortune once again smiled on our destitute flightless friend as he discovered Twitter DM’s and PayPal.
Morgan Freeman narrated his Olympian biography, The Opus.
Tweet Revenge
‘Ha! Look what I found on the bathroom wall at the gas station in the seedy side of town => http://3qws2.th8.us #whoisthat #omg’
Three years of building up to over 200,000 followers who actually listen to me on this bogus account, and a trip overseas to catch her with the camera.
Submit.
Victory is mine
The Last Whistle
“Listen, you broken fuck. Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“The big train of fuck up that you are, and I’m stopping it now.”
“Come on.”
“Fuck that. You’ve fucked up in your time, but this is the worst.”
The same gun that went to his head was pried from his fingers the next morning.
Too Much Giving
He took every call that came his way; talking people down and scooting them to help. He was the best in the game; no one caused more pills to be flushed.
One glowing ember in the dark. Burning flesh smelling sweet. Never enough.
The fire was out, and a note found.
“Who will help ME?”
Craigslist Drivers Suck!
Fading in from the gray, you realize you’re pinned. Your hearing is starting to come to life; from behind, “mmmpph…ucker!”.
Alarms!
“Hire a driver from Craigslist, you said. Well, cops are coming and we can’t leave him to talk.”
You hear a familiar click just before an explosion. Jolt, and then quickly fading to black.
Impulsive Behavior
“You fools don’t have enough on me,” the handcuffed man sneered over his shoulder as he was lead away.
The detective was prying a blood soaked manuscript for “I Am God” from the dead psychologist/amateur book critic’s hand.
Staring at the letter opener plunged into the victim, The detective muttered, “Yeah we do, you narcissist.”
Love’s Misunderstandings
The break-up was predicated by the statement made during the afterglow of passion.
“My sexual appetite is changing.”
“Baby, you know I’d do anything for you.”
I was hoping for whiskers or a tail implant. A pig’s heart might have done the trick. But, he is now a woman, which I find so damned unappealing.
Lover’s Mourn
Sorrow is waning as I see how her waxen hair glistens in the ghostly moonlight.
The single tear has dried.
Although brief, my love for her was deep, passionate and full of rage. Enough rage to drive the blade 13 times.
I will rue no longer; there will be others, as there were before her.
