A Writer with Noisy Neighbors

I stared at the blank page in front of me. After four hours of torture, I knew I was chasing the horizon - I'd make no progress as long as that no good jackass across the street kept screaming like he'd stuck a cactus up his ass. To be fair (not that I want to be) it wasn't him screaming per se - it was his patients. The nut was a dentist who liked to drill a little too deep or go a little too light on the Novocaine. The only time his clinic wasn't an explosion of screams - and therefore the only time I could consistently write - was on Saturdays. Saturdays were reserved for the clients that kept him in business.

My pen met paper for two words in a row before another screech erupted from the place, breaking my concentration and sending my pen skittering across the page. It was the random timing that was the worst part - anyone can ignore regular phenomena, but the bursts of noise at unknown intervals was torture, plain and simple.

The Night Before Graduation

The heat was obscene for this time of year. Pam and Miles lay on their mattress, fingertips the only skin they had in contact. Both were awake, naked, and hoping the sounds of spring peepers might induce sleep. They'd done all they could - sheets were on the floor and the fan was on high - but the heat and the anxiety were a bit too much for either.

"Big day tomorrow," Miles couldn't help himself.

"I know," Pam replied plainly.

"Will I have to call you Doctor Sweetheart?" Had either been keeping track, this made the hundredth time Miles had made this joke.

"Whatever you want, as long as you pay off my loans." Reply number seventy one. Sure the repetition bothered Pam, but she knew that, truthfully, it spoke to Mile's consistency. The man she married was a stone wall like that of Hadrian - if the human body allowed it, he'd be standing for centuries.

Something Valuable Has Been Stolen

(To push myself to write a bit more, I'm doing Camp NaNoWriMo for the month of July.)

The Huntress awoke to the sound of her door clanging against its frame. Thoughts splashed into her mind like a bucket of thrown water; did I lock the door? is someone here? is someone trying to kill me? The darkness provided no answers.

After a minute of careful listening, the Huntress lit up the oil lamp she kept near her bed. Everything in her room was in its place. The antlered elk-head trophy's eyes reflected the light from the small lamp. So too did the polished rifle leaning against the wall she had used to claim the elk's life. She slid out of bed and chose to take the light instead of the rifle as she entered the main room of the cabin.

The Lonely Venusian

There was a lonely man who lived on Venus
Everyone avoided him, due to his breath
When it came out he thought it smelled of gum
To everyone else it was putrified death

Although he kept chickens, he was very poor
Among those to shun him were local lenders
He took matters in his hands and built an incubator
He'd spend hours there, a prolific egg-tender

He came across a woman who liked to hunt.
She had a bow on her back and arrows in her quiver.
She had the oddest manner of shakes and spasms.
When she pulled an arrow out it made her shiver.

Caffeine

Teeth chattering, a bug-eyed ball of frizz dug its claws into the wooden counter.

“M-m-m-more!” it demanded.

“You’ve had enough,” the man in the stained white apron said with a wave.

“M-M-M-MORE!” it screeched. People turned to look.

“You’re making a scene,” the man whispered forcefully. The creature stared at him and vibrated.

Beni Khaddesh Library

Roadblocks, hurdles, language barrier
Thwarteed requests or something scarier
What do I do when smiling breaks down
Do I display my internal frown?
Tunisia's thrown flags on every play
Tollroad or detour or wrong way

&&&

Mirror

I looked in the mirror and a woman looked back. I cried. Fat wet drops mixed with makeup and snot made their way into hastily bunched tissues. I laughed. I’d have to redo my face - not the thought I thought I’d have.

My housemate at the bathroom door. I assure them I was okay. A goofy smile. The sort of smile you’re supposed to hide because it’s genuine. I was okay. I am okay. I am genuine.

A deep breath and I had control again. It would be a series of steps. Wipe. Wash. Work. I had found that woman. I would find her again.

Big Shit

So there I was, string tied to my dick as was the local custom, when I felt a great grumbling rumbling in my stumbling. I mean stomach. Why’d I say stumbling? Weird.

Anyhow, my stomach felt like two cats fighting in a burlap sack. It was rough - and I didn’t feel like dealing with whatever was going to erupt. Sure, I’d have to - by accident of anatomy my guts were linked to my mouthhole and my asshole - but it wasn’t going to be the highlight of my day. As the metaphorical cats continued to wrestle, I knew it was time to take decisive action. And decisive action I certainly took. Decisive action I will certainly describe.

I rushed to the door and grabbed my rice paddy hat on the way out. It’d be a real social faux pas to be seen in the streets without a hat and I didn’t want to challenge the local norms. I half-ran, half-waddled my way through the streets as I fought the urge to birth the demon inside me. A real bad butt birth was coming though and there was little I could do to stop it.

Be my Valentine

I think of you most every day
I almost send a text your way
Stopping me, an ugly truth
More of me pushes most away

</3 </3 </3

You said you're sad to see me go
Yet I would gladly stay
My fantasy:

After all these days I hope you know
Three words you have to say:
"Stay for me"

</3 </3 </3

I have the dumbest wishes
Like to kiss your neck while doing dishes
Or hold your hand 'neath a table
While listening to a fishing fable
I know I'm weird, I'm sure to get looks
Should our feet touch when we read books
But that's who I am; I don't think I can change
In a world so bestial, is being tender strange?

The Pale Man

An ember lit up the pale man’s face. After a drag, he hissed the smoke back into the atmosphere. The pale man flicked the cigarette onto the street, red sparks dancing on the ground.

“That’ll kill you someday,” a voice growled from the darkness.

“Gotta die somehow,” the pale man replied.