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Showing posts from October, 2019

Waif (Blogophilia 2201)

A waif floated on the screen. Flat hair, flat chest Line of beads in her hair Beige bustier washed out The girl next door The one you never see. If she’s someone’s dream He couldn’t see it. Next video, please. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Writer’s Choice Topic-The Girl Next Door Hard prompt-the color beige Easy- Waif Pic- Michelle King Pic guesses- Rocking pumpkin, Do the mash, Halloween, Hooked up.

The Last Day Open (Blogophilia 32.12)

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· Left Center Right Remove click to add a caption Her face was amusing, pale skin with cat whiskers of charcoal drawn across the cheeks. Glancing around, I realized it was Halloween. Was it cute? I guess if she was a kid. It was a definitely awkward look, like that display at Needless Markup. I’ve seen a bunch of those over the years. The mouth was more like a dog than a cat. She'd probably make a good puppy and if I could move, I scratch behind her ears. But who am I to judge? I know all about awkward looks. I'm a mannequin in a men’s clothing display and I’ve sported some. I could see the why she stared. I'm not the normal plastic statue making the cheap stuff look good. I'm orange, some ditz's tangerine dream created after too many tequila sunrises with a pomegranate twist. Or worse, who knows? At least, I'm not the only one. Jimmy and Don stand stoically next to me and don't say anything. I was

Amethyst Morning (Blogophilia 31.12)

The shrill beep rattled him awake. Blinking his eyes, the screen’s pale light on the table. Damn phone. He’d passed out on the balcony again, light filtered through the building across the street. He managed to pick it up without knocking over the bottle and saw the little line on the screen. Sarah had posted another hiking picture on Instagram, Quinn’s Junction this time. Miles and miles open country compared to overgrown palms and shrubbery he saw along his street. Grief came out as a sigh. Why didn’t he just unfollow? Or better yet, why didn’t she block him? She did it on purpose. Pictures only reminded him of what was lost. He'd been conditioned to believe divorce ended in desolation.The word described the last year and half. He'd been busy being faithful and working hard, while she made him out like Satan incarnate. All the trappings of the “good life” dissolved before his eyes. Maybe it started when the plant closed, it took him awhile to get the job at the warehouse.

Micki and Molli (Blogophilia 30.12)

I was half asleep watching the weather in my underwear when the phone rang. First day off in two weeks, Folks. Give me a break. Picking up on the third ring, I heard a familiar raspy voice. Micki. Molli was bored, would I like whiskey infusion from two gorgeous women? Sounded good to me. Better than watching a piece of eye candy picked for appearance do a stilted map ballet. She told me to be at Bob’s at 8:30 and don’t be late and hung up. They were coworkers and sometime lovers I’d met breaking up a fight at the bar. Micki was the dominant one, a big girl with a loud voice, straight black hair and a love of outrageous outfits. She was a hairdresser. Molli was a quiet flat apple with amazing curly red hair and worked as a makeup artist. They had a number of video and stage credits to their name, both separately and together. Short version of the fight: Some idiot made a comment about carpet chewing. The ladies didn’t approve. In 30 seconds the drunk was on the floor with heel mark