Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts

Art c/o Dawn Ann

"Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts"

The sign hung in a conspicuous spot on my house - namely at eye level on my front door. One could certainly say I was up front with my precautions. I'll grant this was about as enticing as a "caveat emptor" sign above a cash register, but it was honest nonetheless. It was pointless arguing with me about it - after all, I'd put up the sign.

"It's just a salad," she insisted again. I pointed at my sign. Again. She paused.

"But I'm not Greek," she said.

"Prove it," I said.

"What? Ugh. How?"

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?"

"Everyone's Greek until proven otherwise. And those who can? Very possibly sneaky Greeks."

"Sneaky Greeks?"

"Sneaky Greeks."

Six 'ricks

There was a bartender: Jess
Whose art was always the best
Whether ink on paper
or intellectual caper
She's an inspiration, I confess

&&&

Aly inspires both poem and prose

As she covers a body from head to toes

Whether in leather

Or boa (feathered)

She makes damn interesting clothes

Peeved Pigs

Art c/o Jenn

"Sir, it's the pigs - they've gone mad."

"What do you mean mad? Like they're oinking more than normal or they've gained intelligence and have formed a mob to come and try to kill us?"

"The latter sir. Torches, pitchforks, the works."

"Well, that's no good."

"What do we do now sir?"

"Well, we're not exactly in Frankenstein's castle, are we?"

"No sir."

Flowers and a Cool Bandana (Guest Author)

As mentioned in the title, this is a guest post. Credit to Lauren.

On an alien planet, there's a world that's been taken over by robots. They were created to resemble their creators. The creatures that created them were somewhat advanced; a little more than humans. Eventually, one robot became sentient: he flew under the radar long enough for his creators to cause havoc on the planet and eventually go extinct.

This sentient bot continues to search the world for a bot like him and gets into some trouble when coming up against weapons that were created for destruction. He still hasn't found anyone like him, but he found a way to create flowers and found a cool bandana.

The Grumb

"I was here first."

"No, sorry sir, these two were already in line." The cashier gestured at the twenty person pile up that seemed outside the older man's regard.

"Fuck that! I was here first!" Spittle shot from the man's mustache on the 'eff'.

"Do you have a number?" The cashier nodded toward the 'take a number' device, then pointed toward the 'now serving' display.

"I don't need a number. Fuck your number. I'm number one! I was here first!" At this point, the people in line were growing restless. They were here for coffee and pastries, not a confrontation. Some were angry at the man for trying to cut in line, some just wanted the cashier to serve him in order to end the argument. Whatever combination of things they felt, none of them spoke up to interrupt the conversation.

Another Horsedreamer's Blues (Guest Author)

 As mentioned in the title, this is a guest post. Credit to Murph.

Face c/o Camilo, Horse c/o Mikey

BANG went the starting gun and they were off. The hooves thundered down the track, eventually reaching the first turn of the oval. Leaning out over the concourse were the front-row seaters, the career gamblers, the every-Saturday crowd. Tickets in hand, screaming. Above them were the casuals, first timers, folks out for a fun weekend. And far above them were the private boxes. The wealthy elite, the horse-owners. They who couldn't care less about the results. And above even them, perched up on the barristers, sat Camila.

Camila, a victim of those below.

She loved horses and always had. Despite all she had dealt with. Despite drunken fathers, stupid mothers, boys who can't tell one girl from another. Camila's story was precious different from a million others of the lower strata. No special distinctions, the oldest story in the book. No one cared and Camila knew it. None would come to save her and she knew it. But Camila loved horses.

And they made her feel free.