This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
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Tuesday, January 2, 2018
Bo Peep (Blogophilia 45.10)
Looking up from the mike, it seemed half the crowd had vamoosed out the back. The joke was on them. The cops were at the Topless place across the street. As the last chords of the song chop-chopped away, a pudgy petite girl in a peppermint teddy was being escorted out the fine establishment by security. The back was towards me, but I could tell by the bobbing cotton candy hair Candy Cane was mad about something. A bald dude trying to stop his nose from bleeding followed. Poor sap. Didn’t anyone teach the boy about touching dancers?
Looking around, it appeared Turtle Boy had also ebbed out with the tide. Probably a good idea. I was about do the same when a soft voice called out.
“Going somewhere, Chrissy?”
Blood ran to my face and really bad memories filled my head. It had been many years since my Mother had called me that. I turned to see Patchouli girl and Fleece Collar were standing next between me and the exit. They looked very different. She was now in a blue pinafore dress holding a walking staff.The short guy’s jacket was gone, showing the fleece came all the way down to his waist. He was holding a large silver gun in a clip attached to what looked like a black hoof. My hands lifted on their own accord. Patchouli did the talking.
“It occurs to me we never were introduced. My name is Bo...Bo Peep. And this is my Sheep, Dolly. We are adding to our flock”
Hooking the staff around my neck, she pulled me close. “Don’t bother looking for your weird friend. We’ve already taken care of him.”
I looked over her shoulder at the commotion across the street. Pink Girl was being loaded into a cruiser. Refocusing on her eyes, I replied:
“I wasn’t planning to. He was more trouble than he was worth.” I paused a moment. “So, what is this about?”
Bo smiled and shook her blond locks.
“We understand you are also looking for some lost sheep?”
My ears rang from the slap. Dolly pulled me up to his nose. I almost gagged from smell of lanolin and manure. In a jackhammer voice, he said.
“What do you think this is, a game of Candy Crush?” The hammer was clicked for emphasis. “Listen and listen good. You go back to Sister Joleene and figure out where Flopsie went. She sheared us a while back and we want our pound of wool. Got it?”
Eyes wide, I nodded.
Realizing he was finished, he pushed me over the edge of the stage. Face down, I stayed still as hooves and heels clattered along the scarred wooden floor. The front door opened and closed with a slam. When I looked up, they were gone. Walking unafraid, I headed toward the front door. I never like to leave things unfinished. Yeah. I’m going back to the crazy psychic. There has to be an answer.
I made a resolution, though, to never to follow a turtle into a bar again.