Threapy Session (Blogophilia 22.13)

The assistant opened the door and waved me in. It was a small office. Hospital white walls glowed with sunlight. A black leather couch with plain, square arms sat along the far wall, The back was high enough to shade the incoming light from the window behind. Where the magic happens, I guess. A side chair was to my right, I guess that's where the doctor sits. At the last office, the chairs were facing each other. I wonder if there's coffee? My eyes feel like they are going to fall into my head Maybe if I lie down. No. Mom always said first impressions were important and I don't want to appear weak. I take a seat.
To me, this was all a highway to nowhere. It isn't that I've lost my edge. Everyone else has. But something had to be done, I guess. Three jobs in three years because I didn't fit. The last firing turned ugly. The judge gave me the choice of this or jail. But it didn't mean he had to like it. The first session at the hospital felt like a police inte…

Happy Birthday, Bugs (Blogophilia 21.13)

A special day Eighty years You've gotten the last laugh Over all the other characters Only for our entertainment
Every illusion, trick, and subterfuge Sab-o-taj-ee
You wouldn't be made today You'd never come out of committee They'd say "Think of the Children" But to the kids who have grown old You are the rebel in all of us.
Pic-Dave Schrader Pic guesses-Curio shop, Greengrocer, eat your greens, antique, curio shop, old times, antique

Audition (Blogophilia 20.13)

"Ow." Billy winced as the piece of floss stuck between his teeth.
The dental pick snagged the offending string. The gums aren't bleeding, at least. One last inspection. No zits, good. They can be fixed with a little foundation, but people need to look at the whole package. What else could happen this morning? First, he slept through the alarm, then spilled his coffee all over his pajamas. He thought about going back to bed until the car horn outside brought him back to his senses. He couldn't do that. 
This was the biggest audition in his life. He could hear his mom's voice berating him as he bolted out the door and onto the sidewalk. The voice telling him how useless he was. Why couldn't he just get a factory job and meet a girl? She never did understand acting. He could play out fantasies and be the rich, important man he wasn't. This new gig was the ticket to his dream job, being a working actor. 
In the two years he'd been in The Bronx, he figured ou…

The Throwaway Payroll (Blogophilia 19.13)

It's a writer's choice week and I'm going with a rant. 
In the last several weeks the news has been filled with rioting and what not. Many of the aggrieved folks...

Nah. We don't need to hear my blathering about statues being graven images and false idols. There's already way too much of that out there. 

Instead ow about another story from my work past. 
For several years in the 90s, I worked for the agency that provided mental health services for the state of Georgia as a payroll supervisor. It was a fast-paced, challenge with an employee base ranging from janitors to doctors. Among the places we serviced were full-time mental hospitals. One of the facilities I worked with was called The Georgia Mental Health Institute or GMHI, located a few miles from my office in Atlanta.

You'll recognize the campus if you are a fan of the series "Stranger Things". This is the set.
At the time I was working, it was one of the smaller units in the system, with 600 employe…

Fallow Field (Blogohphilia 18.13)

I stop at the edge of the fallow field and close my eyes. It had been a very long night. Eleanor's last breaths had been painful to watch. Scarlet blood on her white dress was still vivid in my memory. She richly deserved her fate.  A wicked deed, Salome personified, beguiling me into dropping my guard. It had to be done. When the sword was raised there was no begging and my grudging respect. I understood what the King saw in her. The sword in her belly would play in my mind everyday for eternity. 
I must move on. I open my eyes and trod further up the hill. 
Traveling all night, I needed to find shelter. The morning fog hung close. A hard pack trail lined with flowering bushes wound before me, rising toward a copse of trees before the top of the ridge. It should provide good shelter from view. I would spend the day in the shade, plotting my course and watching for the King’s men. 
I made cover as the smoke left the hill. Sweat rose up from the exertion. The thicket was uninviting, b…

History (Blogophilia 17.13)

History, written by the Victor Told for glory For solidarity With every gun making its own tune
Conquered fade into the sands of time Deeds denigrated Scapegoated Carrying the sins of the Victor 
One version of events Is a truth But not the only one Only above has a new perspective  To know the difference
Topic-Rebecca Revels
Pic-Rebecca Grussendorf
Pic guesses:  Rose-colored glasses, Yellow Brick Road, Not Kansas, picnic, wander, swept up

One Saturday Night. (Blogophilia 15.13)

There was a bar I was a regular at called Good Ol' Days, so much so the waitresses would have the pitcher (and however many glasses we needed) by the time My friends and I would sit down. And like any good bar, there are bar stories, one's you wonder how it happened. 
The best one happened right after I got married. It was a pretty fall day and my wife and I sat outside watching the butterflies play on the patio railing as we watched the sunset across the road. 
Since this was kind of a "date", she insisted I dress up a little. I had on a white sport coat with an open collar shirt. I was working out a bit then making me look a little like a bouncer. A couple friends stopped by our table and we waxed loquacious about jobs, relationships, and who would be the next spouse to get knocked up. A =band was butchering a cover of "You Spin Me Around (like a record)", making it sound like "My Big Ten Inch (Record). The crowd was lubricated enough to substitute the…