Posted in Fables And Taller Tales

Fractured Mythological Tales Or Woman’s Roots In Evil



One beautiful, lightly breezy, 70° sunny day, a woman was sitting on a bench in a shady area of the quad on campus reading quietly to herself. She didn’t get the time to read as often as she liked and was so absorbed in her book, she didn’t notice a tall, handsome man walking by her. He did notice her though and thought to himself, “I’d like her to be my special friend.” He kept on walking but his thoughts were now about how to win her over. In the meantime another handsome man happened by, noticed the woman and decided on the spot she would be his special friend. Instead of continuing on past her he lifted her off the bench and carried her over his shoulder.


The woman was startled from her reading and while clutching the book tightly so she wouldn’t drop it, asked the man why he was carrying her over his shoulder. He started explaining to her how good life would be and how happy she would be as his special friend while he kept walking. The first handsome man came back to begin the process of winning the woman over to be his special friend, he had come up with a really good plan, and noticed she was gone. Before these two men had happened by, earlier, another handsome man had noticed the woman, she was so into her book she didn’t see him at all, and went off to get some gifts he thought would help win the woman over, but on his way back noticed the second handsome man pick up the woman and carry her off. This made him angry because he really wanted the woman for his special friend. He dropped the gifts, ran after the second handsome man, knocked him down, caught the woman who was holding her book tight so she wouldn’t lose her place, put her over his shoulder and started walking very quickly down the street just outside of campus while telling the woman, who was trying to continue reading her book in spite of all that was going on, that she’d be much happier with him, although he didn’t know the man he’d just knocked down at all.


The first handsome man who came back to talk to the woman to convince her she should be his special friend, saw the third man who really was the first man knock the second man down and take the woman. He thought to himself though he really didn’t know it for a fact, “I saw her first!” He ran after the third man who was really the first man to take the woman away from him. He caught up with them; grabbed hold of the woman and a tug-of-war ensued while the woman just held on to her book so she wouldn’t drop it. The second handsome man had gotten up, ran toward the first and third man who was really the first man, which means the first man was really the second man and he was the third man, having a tug-of-war over the woman still holding on to her book, because he wanted the woman back to be his special friend. He started pushing the other two men out of the way, which caused them to drop the woman on the ground, but she held on to her book, didn’t drop it, and managed to land on her backside which was endowed enough not to hurt that much if something ever happened causing her to land on it. The three handsome men were so caught up in their heated argument they never noticed the woman get up off her backside to begin walking home so she could continue reading her book, which she was going to do in the first place but then had decided to go outside to read because it was such a beautiful day.


The men argued and fought a long time, and as they wore each other out finally took the time to notice the woman wasn’t there anymore. That made them calm a little and gave them time to think, which helped them to recall that during the skirmish, she’d been dropped. In fact, they were so involved in arguing they realized no one noticed if she’d landed on her endowed backside or if she had gotten hurt when she hit the ground. They walked back to the bench but couldn’t find her there or any place else on campus. They stood on the edge of campus looking down the street but they knew there was just too much ground to cover and they had exhausted themselves from bickering and fighting. All three became angered and started saying unkind things about her. They decided unanimously everything was her fault, and if she hadn’t been sitting there none of this would’ve happened. Women should stay inside at home and not be allowed outside where they can be seen, and when this is put into practice, these kinds of things won’t happen again. Not even saying goodbye to each other, wearing frowns they went their separate ways home.


The woman had made it safely home, changed her jeans that had grass stains on them, put on a comfy pair of sweats, started a wash, made some espresso and sat quietly in the living room sipping coffee and reading her book. She thought that later on she’d go out shopping.


Posted in Books & Stories

Shop Talk


It was a send-off bash for an American who was quitting. The owners arranged for everyone to meet at a favorite restaurant that had a nightclub downstairs. I was finally going to get to sample some of this nightlife I’d heard so much about. I’d found the place easily enough and as we were gathered round the table I inquired about a drink, a tall beverage with leaves crammed into the bottom. “Oh it’s a Mojito. Here, it’s really good, have this one!” “Thanks!” I was pleasantly surprised and when we all decided to migrate to the club, were paying the bill and an owner commented she was buying everything but the drinks “that mojito’s hers”, I was surprised again. The stress barrier having been lowered, at the club I did buy a second mojito, maybe a third… anyway, around 2A.M. I was satisfied I’d had enough; decided to catch the metro, head home. As I bade everyone farewell I discovered the trains stop running at 1 and don’t run again until 6. I had no excess cash seeing I’d spent my party allowance, but not to worry I’d thought thanks to a special travel pass so travel was covered. Although I said I’d wait until 6 that didn’t stop a new found friend from jumping to my aid combing out our colleagues for contributions so I could take the bus. Before I had the chance to step out the door another of my co-workers seized the moment to put the moves on me to get me to go home with him, first with a drink – interesting they’d run out of ingredients for a mojito so I’d have to have something else, never heard of that happening before – and then sexy suggestion. Even now just recalling it I can feel his alcohol-soaked breath spray in my hair onto my neck as he stumbled into my ear to whisper, “do you want to?” The entire scenario of what could be flashed before my eyes. I’m a lot older, well not that much but enough, still he was feeling pretty good, sex could be nice but what about when he came-to in the morning? I had an inkling of what he might say and me being me told him, which always throws people (being me), “oh, you don’t want to sleep with me… it’s not a bad idea… look how wasted you are, but you know what…”


What I did and wanted to do anyway was point him in the direction of a woman who I knew wanted him; I’d overheard her talking about him in the ladies room; how about that, yes, girls shop-talk too! He was perplexed yet happy sort-of with that and once he was better situated and they’d left together – he couldn’t help but look back but she was chewing his ear off demanding attention so with barely a glance to remember me by he snapped his head forward – I left to wait for the bus. At the casino across the street the party was still going on. People were in and out, the police were in and out, and once or twice an ambulance pulled up. A group of college students staggering by stopped for directions (yes from me, the other American who had walked around Madrid so much she could be a tour guide, this was their lucky night), did their best to strike up conversation and discovering I was a teacher (I’m that good) decided to practice their English, so I conducted a street side class for those few intoxicated youth of Madrid, which made for a great time as I was discovering the universality of slurring and how it slowed down language enough – in this case being the Spanish I was learning – to understand what was being said. The bus I was supposed to take finally arrived but didn’t want to let me off where I needed, something I was warned might happen – another quirky thing; can’t say you come across many bus drivers who tell you “no, I don’t feel like stopping there” – but by then it wasn’t much longer until 6A.M., so I sat back down on the bench, continued watching the night life, the night become light, appreciated that my friend from Holland had raised 20 euro for me, and reflected on being able to tell people, “I went to a club in Madrid and was up all night”.



Posted in Flashes

Nothing Personal


“How did this happen?” Fran stood at her car still reeling. She never wanted to teach, in fact; she wasn’t a teacher and had protested, adamantly, but Trish had desperately needed her help. Years had gone by. Years… That wasn’t the worst of it; they’d known each other almost forever.


Trish had gotten a call, a complaint. She knew better but called Fran into her office anyway. “They said there was a photo and would forward the link. I had to hotline you. This is your last day, I’m sorry.”

Stunned Fran stammered. “We’re more than colleagues.” “I said sorry.” “But I thought we were friends.”



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100WCGU – Week#176


The prompt for this week is:

 …but I thought we were friends…

Posted in Flashes, Thought Food



She’d done it. Bought the high-end stuff no turning back. With the lemon wedged and salt at the ready, she opened the box, removed the wrapper around the cap and broke the seal. “Seal, angels of death, Armageddon, humph…”

Using care she aligned crystals along the purlicue, admiring the curved precision she filled the shooter with the other hand and breathed it in. The scent was overpowering as she teased salt to coat her tongue, filled her mouth with liquid biting down on a wedge as she swallowed.


Eyes closed, she fell back into cushions and exhaled.





The prompt this week is:

…the scent was overpowering…


Posted in Books & Stories, Fiction & Poetry

Grandma’d Always Said Never Skimp


Mattia was in the kitchen. I didn’t know her, not yet anyway but I would over time. Wasn’t worried. We’d met at the interview about the room and she was enthusiastic about me moving in. Took it as a good sign remembering what the agent’d said about good karma – she’d sensed good karma when she spoke to both of them about the rental. Her other flatmate was a sweetheart. Spoke lousy English but a sweetheart.


When I came in she’d just finished cooking for herself, had her plate and was about to go to the table in the other room as I’d begun unpacking my groceries. Guess curiosity got the better of her. I put dinner napkins I’d bought on the top of the fridge, noticing she paused, put her plate down, put her napkin away, reached up, grabbed the package, opened it and took a napkin. As far as I knew my mouth hadn’t dropped open as I watched. After putting the package back, she picked up plate and utensils and continued on not saying a word. I’ll have to admit I was surprised she didn’t ask but for the sake of diplomacy I didn’t say anything. It’s not uncommon for dry goods such as napkins, paper towels, dish detergent and toilet paper to be used and replaced by all who share the house or apartment. It wasn’t mentioned during our first meeting though so I later spoke to her offering money toward household goods. Oddly she was aloof as she brushed at the air with her hand. Huh? It was explained most everything they used came from their store. If I wanted to use something different I’d have to buy it on my own. Well yeah, that’s normal, most of us have our favorite products but the topic of sharing was glossed over and my offer flippantly dismissed. Flippantly, that was it. Didn’t make much sense. An alarm was stirring but I distracted myself thinking of the location, the boutique across the street, the subway stop on the corner, the massive El Corte Ingles two blocks away and that restaurant, oh, what was its name that served eggs benedict located right near the train station. Still I’d felt I hadn’t even been here for five minutes, something’s not right yet, but I’ll keep an eye on things, mine in particular.

At the same time I was annoyed with myself even thinking like that.

It’s true what ever I make I usually Italianize, but does that mean the incense burning in the living room with the stove fan turned on in the kitchen immediately after I cook imply they don’t like Italian, or I should say she doesn’t? I can’t say I’ve met many people in my lifetime who didn’t go for Italian food. Not impossible though.


Something’s brewing

The soup is stirred

Quiet observant

Say not a word



Honestly! I’m being absurd.



Posted in Fiction & Poetry

Teenage Days


He enters angry, his head down

No smile

Scowling frown

“Excuse me”, I say

“Is this your name?”

But he doesn’t speak

“Yoo-hoo, hello, I’d like to know

I’m the teacher you see

Whatever you did

Now your time’s with me

And your fellows beside”

He keeps his head down

He won’t reply

I chuckle deep

“Well, I guess this is you”

As I check his name

“You’re the one they called said

He’s coming, be prepared”

No reason to fear

Nor be scared


“Do you think it’s funny!”

He snaps, grrr, grr

“What happened to you?


But I didn’t do it

You did something

That sent you my way

All I do is make comfortable your stay

Though inconvenient it be


I’m laid back you see”

He softens some

Reason is sound

An administrator comes

He loses his ground


His calm is gone

He makes a demand

To call his father

“I want my Dad!”

“OK, come on

To the office

We’re gone”

She takes him away

Backpack and all

Never to return

So sad, so true

Hope his weekend pans out

As we left the room early

For better things to do

At the close of day

And went our separate ways


Bless accursed teenage

You never know

How reaction will go

When it puts on its show