Sanka the wonder frog

Now and then something beautiful will catch your eye...and my eye, and of course the frog's eye. My frog, or actually the frog in my story, was just a wee bit lazy but he had an amorous nature,  Now he didn't ride off a courting with a gun and pistol by his side and he was not the least bit interested in courting a mouse like his great great great great (not sure how many greats, but a lot of them as a frog's life span isn't all that long) great grandpa had done.

What caught our frog's eye was the pretty little female frog across the pond but, the pretty little female frog across the pond was also being courted by a big nasty old bullfrog. What also caught our hero's eye was the way that mean old bullfrog would look at him whenever he got close to the female frog that they both desired.

Well Sanka, our frog, knew he had no chance against the bullfrog, so he had to devise a way to get rid of his competition. He sat on a small lily pad as far away from the big bullfrog as possible and wondered what he was going to do.

Finally he realized his only chance was to trick the bullfrog into leaving, so he hopped close to where the big brute was basking in the sun and said, "I wonder if the sweet little girl frog over at the mill pond would still be there? She sure is pretty."

The bullfrog opened one eye and and said, "I've never seen a sweet little girl frog at the mill pond. I wonder if you really know what your talking about."

Sanka said, "I wonder if she is out on one of the lily pads just waiting from me?"

The bullfrog said, "If she waiting for anyone, she's waiting for me."

Sanka said, "Maybe we should just hop right on over there and see who she waiting for."

Now the old bullfrog was as dumb as he was big and told our little Sanka that he was going over to the mill pond to court the sweet little girl frog and if Sanka showed up he was in big trouble. Then he took three mighty leaps and landed right where Sanka had seen a big old water snake looking for breakfast.

Sank relaxed in the hot sun. "I wonder, he thought, if that prettty little female frog across the pond is going to be as glad to see me as I will be to see her". He also wondered if that old water snake was happy with the brakfast Sanka had sent to him.


Have your ever wondered how many Ribbits it takes to make a frog croak?

Got an answer...leave your answer in the comments section...

I will post the answer on next weeks Theme Thursday...

written for Theme Thursday...


yes, I do...procrastinate
 I'll be right back...

for Josie...somewhere in  Texas...coming soon

Monarch Butterflys vs Geoduck Clams

In my blog written for Sunday Scribblings I talked about making the Monarch Butterfly a mascot for a NFL football team. Naturally it was in jest. But I did get some interesting feedback.
If a team can be named the Ducks, and there is such a team - a good one, actually - there could well be "The Fighting Butterflies."!

Berowne is absolutely right and I have a fondness for the Anaheim Ducks as I live close to their facility and my daughter works there. No I don't get free tickets.

Old Egg touted the Mighty Fighting Monarchs as they conquered the ocean to get from the Americas to Australia. I hope he wasn't accusing us of an invasion.

The Write Girl informed me that there is an NBA team that is changing its name to the Pelicans so I googled that info and she is right (I didn't doubt her. I just had to know which one). The New Orleans Hornets will officially be the New Orleans Pelicans next season. I hope Pelicans can play better ball than the Hornets do.

But the best response I had was from Granny Smith. She informed me of a College with a mascot called a Geoduck.  The Evergreen State College Geoducks are located on the Puget Sound in the state of Washington.

A Geoduck (pronounced Gooeyduck) is not a duck at all but a clam and a clam like none that I have ever seen. They even have a fight song, proving that clams can fight back. So remember all you macho men who like to eat clams to boost your sexual ability...

FABLED for its power to turn ordinary mortals into sex gods, nothing beats the oyster as the prelude to a night of passion. And no, it's not all hype. High levels of a chemical that boosts libido have been found in clams, a close relative of the oyster, suggesting that their reputation is not undeserved.

...the Geoduck clam can fight back. So whatever else you may do while eating clams, DO NOT and I repeat DO Not drop one in your lap.

 Here is the school’s fight song, written in 1971:
Go, Geoducks go,
Through the mud and the sand,
let’s go.
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out.
Go, Geoducks go,
Stretch your necks when the tide
is low
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out.
Don't forget it's pronounced "Gooeyduck"

Now If I can only find a sports team called the "Pink Flamingos"
The fighting Pink Flamingos
go team go

Go Monarchs

Butterfly-Lion-Ruler...It's always possible to get confused...especially if you are me...I get confused easily and this confession takes me back a few years...around thirty when I opened a business of decorating clothing with embroidery and screen printing.

We attempted to target high school sports programs with the thought that it was a business that repeated year after year. Create a customer, do a good job, make them happy and they will be back next year.

One of my first opportunities came when a local coach called and said he wanted some coaches shirts with his high school mascot and the school name embroidered on them. The school called themselves, "the Monarchs".

I had to attend a 3 day training conference so I gave the order to the young lady the I had hired to help me. She did a great job of getting some very nice polo shirts and getting the logo embroidered on the left chest. She was very proud of herself.

The only problem was that she chose the Monarch Butterfly as their logo and the school's mascot was a lion not a butterfly. The shirts were for the football coaching staff, a bunch of very macho men. Fortunately, the coach had a great sense of humor and he let us correct our error and replace the shirts.

Go I don't think there is a football team in the world would call themselves the "Butterflies" but with the new rules coming down in the NFL, I wouldn't be surprised if all the teams were mandated to choose a butterfly as a Mascot.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here come the Baltimore Butterflies staring Ray Lewis"...sorry about that Ray.

written for Sunday Scribbling

The New Yorker / Paul Theroux

I subscribe to the "New Yorker"...mainly for the cartoons but also for the fiction and I do enjoy their "Letters From..." and "A reporter at Large" sections. If anything about politics is in there, I avoid it. I do not know or understand politics, politicians or the pundits who write and speak about the political scene. I think the whole nasty area is simply a reaffirmation of the old arguement, "how many angels can dance on the head of a needle?"

In this post I simply wish to review Paul Theroux's story, "The Furies", printed in the Feb.25th issue of the New Yorker and also on the New Yorker's web site.

The story has a simple premise. An older man, in this plot a dentist, dumps his wife for his assistant…Nothing new there….that happens all the time. The characters may change but the plot is the same. However, Theroux sneaks in something he thinks is a little different. The upset wife puts sort of a hex on the husband.

"I hope you suffer now with that woman who's taken you from me. These women who carry on with married men are demons."

Well I guess that's a hex but it doesn't sound any more ominous to me than threats I've heard from other dumped wives. I particularly like "You dirty bastard, I hope you die" but I guess Theroux prefers a more veiled threat.

The dentist decides to take his new wife (despite her objections) to his high school reunion where he is immediately confronted by three of his ex girlfriends who have become drunken hags and each one has a beef with him because he had kissed them and tried to feel them up.

For the life of me I cannot understand what the crime was. Every young man tried to feel up every young girl when they were in high school but the dentist's new wife is supposed to be upset for his behavior forty years previously.

Next he takes his new wife to the old make out spot where they decide to get it on only to be interrupted by the women from the reunion calling him a pig. They hurriedly leave and go back to the hotel where the new wife is not in the mood for sex. He gets a crank call in the middle of the night but neither his wife nor the reader knows who it comes from or what was said.

Then he decides to visit his old neighborhood where he is confronted by a fat, sloppy, piggy, chain smoking woman who accuses him off kissing her behind the garage and running away.

So far, he has only been and acted like all boys growing up but his new wife and the reader is suppose to believe that he is some kind of sex pervert.  Even if he had had sex with any of them, (and Theroux doesn't say that he did) he has not been accused of rape…only kissing and groping. But, the poor wife is getting upset. Maybe she believed that the 58 year old women that were haunting him looked the same when they were in their teens and she couldn't understand what kind of taste her new husband had in ugly old hags.

When they get home, there is a note from "Ellie" on his porch.  Another one of his past sins has arrived. His sins with Ellie are a little more serious. But Ellie doesn't show up at his door. Joyce does. Joyce was married to a photographer. Our hero met them, got the hots for Joyce, and waits until her husband is on assignment and then hits on her. True, not a gentlemanly thing to do but he doesn't rape her. He only paws her and is rejected. Not cool. but not a crime that a woman would drive a long ways to tell his new wife.

Then he wakes up in the middle of the night with Ellie in his room telling him that he ruined her life. He had gotten her pregnant and she had a botched abortion and her life was ruined. Again not the coolest but I would say Ellie was as guilty as he was but evidently the new wife was horrified by all the women from his ancient past. She is now sleeping in a separate bedroom.

Then they decide to see a marriage councilor and the bride insists that it has to be a woman and surprise, surprise, it turns out to be another woman from his past. This one got drunk with him and they had sex. According to her, it was not consensual. Maybe it was date rape…maybe not.  Again not good but to have her pop up out of nowhere (the ex wife couldn't have set that one up) was a bit over the top.

Next appearing in our little melodrama is an old cleaning woman (actually she was young when the dentist pawed her) that tells his new wife that he had groped her while she was cleaning the office. This is too much for the new wife who then quits as his assistant but for some reason doesn't divorce him. They continue to live together but only as room mates.

Then he discovers that his ex wife has died and he is happy because he sure she was behind all the haunting women that were turning up. That's the last straw for the new wife. She divorces him, takes most of what he has left and he lives the rest of his life being haunted by a hag with his face and the voice of the new wife.

Okay, I admit that I had to keep reading to see where the story went. So, in that regards I would say it was worthwhile. I just felt it was not of the caliber of "Mosquito Coast" or even "Riding the Iron Rooster" but of course those were full length novels.

No this short story was more on the level of "Hotel Honolulu". I never got passed the 3rd chapter of that book. I believe the premise of the story has a lot of merit and could be a good novel if Theroux wanted to expand it into a full length novel and make his hero a little more heinous in his actions with the women of his life.

One last thing that bothered me was that the dentist and the assistant were not having an affair but they did fall in love. He immediately went to his wife, told her, divorced her and gave her half of everything without a whimper.  Certainly a bit of a cad on occasions but not the dastardly asshole that the women of his past made him out to be.

I cry

   True, I cry and I am not a female.  Men don't cry. Has anyone heard those words before? Sure you have. Everyone has. A real man doesn't cry. It's a sign of weakness when a man cries. Maybe, but I don't think so.

  Maybe they are referring to someone getting down on their knees and crying or begging for their life. Would I do that? I don't know because I have never been in that situation. I hope not, but maybe. I hope that I'm never tested.

  Crying because of emotion is different. I cried when my mother died. I cried when my best friend died. I am not ashamed. I lost someone dear to me. I felt a hole in my heart and I cried. I cried when I read a poem at my brothers funeral. I cried for the same reason.

   I am not speaking of sobbing, but the tears came and I could not hold them back. I didn't want to hold them back. Yes 2pac, sometimes I cry when I'm alone and sometimes I cry where everyone can see me.

   I am not ashamed that I have a heart. I am not ashamed that I cry.

and....a short poem I wrote last year...about crying...

I breathe
breath won't come

my head spins
vision is blurred

I cry for what
I do not know

I cry
for me

written for Carry On Tuuesday, Keith, 2pac and the whole damn world...

the hole


   The cold tea was just the thing for my mouth and throat but I was still hot and sweaty so I turned on the hose and let the cold water run down my back, across my chest and then cascade down my not so thin stomach. Damn, it felt good.

   I soaked my hat in the water, put it back on my head and admired the hole I had just dug. I looked up at the sun thinking that it had to be over 90 degrees and it wasn't even noon. I let the water run over my head  and down my body again.

   I was proud of the work that I had just completed. I had started at 7 AM and the hole was almost 5 feet deep. I know that some folks might think that I wasn't moving all that fast and maybe they would be right. But, digging a 5 deep hole that is 3 feet wide on all sides was a good piece of work for a 70 year old man. I accomplished my hole with a pick and shovel and a lot of swearing at the rocks.

   I stood above the hole, using the shovel to lean on and wondered how much deeper it needed  to be. I scratched my head and thought for a few minutes before I realized that I couldn't remember  what I was digging the hole for. I decided that maybe some more tea and the shade of my patio might be the best thing for me because I might have been suffering from heat stroke.

   Maybe as soon as I cooled down I might remember why I was digging the hole. As I mulled over my problem, my wife came home from her soccer match (yes, she plays soccer) and as she walked through the patio she asked, "What's the hole for"?

   Now, I wasn't about to tell her that I couldn't remember what the hole was for, so I told I was making a Koi pond.

  "That will be nice," she replied. "When you finish that will you dig a hole for the new mail box like I asked you to?"

our song

   They were playing our song. The music floated across the lagoon like she once floated across the dance floor. I stopped and listened, memories crossing my heart with each note they played. I looked into the water and my heart drank from the image of her dancing around the reflection of the moon.

   She was so close, yet so far away. I could feel her soft loving body, smell the fragrance of her skin as if she had never left me. I longed to be with her, touch her, hear her voice, dance with her one more time, but that was never to be.

   She belonged to God now. I hope he needs her as much as I did.

   I didn't want the music to stop. As long as our song floated across the water, I could ser see her in the moon. I wished for her to talk to tell me how she is tell me that she misses me as I do her.

   But, the music stopped and her face drifted into the sky. Oh how I long for the day that we will be together again and we will be able to drift with the wind across the moon side by side.

gs batty

Battle of the sex’s part 3

Sometime before this year’s Turkey Day I said something or did something that put me in the dog house with my wife.  Being the stubborn person that I am I refused to ask her just what I did? 
Naturally, since I was in the wrong and she was in the right, which is the natural result of a domestic spat, we began a period of silent meditation.  I am sure that she would say something more like I was being blessed with “the silent treatment”.
What she didn’t realize was that I was smack dab in the middle of my NaNoWriMo project and was very happy to be left alone.  To be real truthful I was ecstatic.  I wrote for hours without one “Honey-do” finding its way to my hide away.
I did have to make my own B-L-D’s.  No, that’s not a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.  It’s breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Just to prove that I am not a complete cad, I continued to take care of my normal chores of doing the dishes and picking up the dog poop.
But, it was a fair trade-off because as you already know, I did finish my writing project.
Around the middle of November I decided that I was spending too much time sitting on my ample back side and pretending to be a writer so I began a walking and exercise program.  My goal was and is to lose some weight and to be in a little better shape.
Notice that I used the words some and little.  That was on purpose because by using those words I cannot fail.  Any amount of exercise that I perform guarantees me of being in a little better shape.  After my first morning walk I had succeeded in obtaining my “better shape” goal.
Losing “some weight” was and is a more difficult goal but I knew that if I gave up donuts for just one week and continued to walk that I would lose weight and I did.  So far I have lost three whole pounds.
I know it’s not like those people on TV but I can’t afford the weight trainers they have and I have already succeeded.  Any more improvement is just gravy on my potatoes or the cherry on my hot fudge sundae.
Oh…no more gravy and potatoes or hot fudge sundaes?  What have I done to myself?
Yes, we are talking again and she has joined me on my morning walks.  Her only response to my new fitness program was short and simple.
         “I’ve told you to do this for months.”

          Was the argument with my wife a plot?  Did she trick me?

          Naturally, being a man and a husband, I will never know but somehow I suspect that she did.


  I pondered this prompt and something kept poking the back side of my mind. Tickets, tickets, tickets, what am I trying to remember? I drummed the desk with my fingers, chewed on a pencil and paced the floor. I really don't know why. I don't believe it was that important but when I can't remember something, it bugs me.

   Fortunately, I have a wife that doesn't forget anything but that can also be a problem. The little digs about memory can be exasperating but I bit the bullet or in this case, the pencil, and asked her what I was trying to remember about tickets.

   Naturally she had a list of 5or 6, from the theater tickets I forget to buy until they were sold out, or the Angels tickets I gave away last year or the speeding ticket I got last fall and finally the $200.00 I paid for a raffle ticket on the Super Bowl.

   "No, no, no, no," I said. "Why would I want to remember those tickets? I have been trying to forget those tickets. No, it's something else, some other kind of tickets."

   "You don't mean those old Disney tickets, do you? I might have thrown them out."

   I groaned something about them being worth a lot of money someday. She replied something about them not being worth anything if I didn't remember that I had them or where the were.

   I decided I didn't want to write about tickets anymore and that retreat was the better course to travel, so I tried to drop the subject. Naturally, anyone that is married or has ever been married knows the final outcome of that retreat.

   It's cooled down a little but I know that the next time the word "ticket" pops up, I will get a few "unnecessary" reminders.

   I have called all my children and all my grandchildren and ask them never to say the word "ticket" around us. I will also write and ask Meg never to use the word in another prompt.

written for Sunday Scribblings

words...where are you

where are they
those words I cannot find
I have searched the mountains
the sea shores...the deserts
other people
have found them
could they
have used them all
I know that
they are not in
the crossword puzzle
or the game of cards
they were there for
the Persian Poet, Rumi
"Thirst drove me down to the water
where I drank the moon's reflection."
Oh what beautiful words
he wrote
did he find those words
in the reflection of the moon
"Only from the heart
Can you touch the sky."
did he pull his words
from his heart or from the sky
maybe I need to look
to my heart
 maybe I need to look to
the reflection of the moon
or the inner part
of my soul
maybe I need to look
into myself

The Reward

   By the time that I got there the search had been going for quite some time. I was assigned the far side of the mountain and since I was a seasoned mountain climber and new the area well, I was not assigned a partner. My job were simple...look for signs that would indicate if they were moving in that direction.

   Plans were made for me to check in at prearranged times and I took my gear and headed out. The climb was easy, so I made it to the top of the ridge in about an hour. I called in on the radio phone they had given me to report my progress and reported that, so far, no signs of the two men had turned up. I used my binoculars to look at the far side of the canyon and the parts of the canyon bottom that could be seem. There were a lot of trees and some dense under growth so I took my time and slowly searched the area. I didn't see anything that would indicate that anyone was there or had been there.

   I reported in and informed them where I was ,and so far, I had not seen evidence of anyone being there. I reported that I was going on over to the next ridge. It took me a little over two hours to reach the next ridge and I saw nothing that would indicate that anyone had recently been in that canyon.

   But when I reached the next ridge and crossed it, I found their foot prints just below the ridge. They were headed down and walking just far enough below the top of ridge to not be seen and yet high enough on the side of the canyon not to get tangled in the thick scrub.

   They were smart. They could get to the top and look for anyone following them, and if they had to, they could disappear down into the scrub.

    I crossed the canyon and hiked to the top of the ridge. I had been careful, to be sure they didn't see me. I was surprised that they weren't that far ahead. The ridges on their foot prints were still crisp and sharp. They weren't running like crazy men but, taking it slow and careful like someone stalking an animal. However, in this case, they were the ones being stalked but, they were not stupid enough to panic.

   I sat on a rock, drank a sip of water and checked in with the control center. I knew if I reported that I had located the two killers, command would redirect the search and it wouldn't be long before we had them boxed in. I also knew that was when the real danger would begin. A trapped animal is a dangerous animal. So are trapped humans. I had been warned that they were were armed and ready to kill anyone coming after them. I also knew that there was a reward...a large reward for the person or persons that caught them.

   I didn't tell command that I had located them. I planned on catching them myself. I planned on getting that reward. My child's life depended on that reward. I told command that they were not, and had not been in the area that I had covered. I informed them that I was going over one more ridge.

   I ate a small piece of jerky, sipped some water and began my hunt. I didn't follow their tracks but cut across the canyon to the next ridge because I knew that they would have to do the same thing. There were several blooms of dust on the flats below the canyons and the flats below our canyon were wide open and aforded little cover.

   I made the other ridge in just over two hours which put the time into the mid afternoon  I crossed the ridge and headed down the far side because I knew they would not see me. About half way down the canyon I edge to the top of the ridge and began scanning the area below me with the binoculars.

   I sipped some more water, ate some jerky and waited. I checked my rifle and my pistol to make sure they were loaded and ready. I had decided to take a small caliber rifle that I normally used for small game.  It was 22 caliber bolt action with a scope. The weapon wasn't one that I would normally take if I waned to kill big game or a man but I didn't want to kill my prey. If I had to shoot them, I wanted them to live through it. But, if necessary, a bullet in the head from a 22 caliber would kill someone with no problem at all.

  It wasn't long, maybe 30 or 40 minutes, before I spotted them about 300 yards below me struggling to get through the dense scrub brush. I smiled. Round one was decided in my favor. I watched them until they stumbled out of the brush and stopped in a grove of pine trees to rest. I edged my way down the mountain, stopping every few minutes to make sure they were still holed up in the pines.

   When I got to within 75 yards of them, I stopped, sipped a little water and sucked on some jerky.  I checked my rifle again and used the scope to watch them in the trees. One had a foot out in the open.  I steadied my scope on the ankle and slowly squeezed the trigger. The rifle made a soft cracking noise and the man below me yelped in pain.

   I could see both men scrambling to get behind a tree, any tree. I kept a steady breath and watched and waited. I knew what they were thinking and I knew they would feel that they had no choice but to run. The question was whether they would both take off or just the one that hadn't been shot.

   I knew that when the break came, I would have to be quick and sure. I would get just one shot and I had to make sure it hit the one that wasn't already wounded. I guessed that their plan would be for the unwounded man to draw fire away from the wounded one.  In that way they would both have a chance to escape. I decided I would shoot the first one to make a break. I knew I could always catch up with the one that I had already wounded.

  I also knew that the one to run would use the pine trees for cover so I picked an opening the pines on the far side of where I was and I was right. I had my scope pointed right at the spot that they he ran through. My scope picked up the back part of his left thigh but, as I squeezed the trigger he went down like he had been hit with an axe. My bullet harmlessly kicked up a puff of dirt. I moved the scope to his head and saw a big ugly hole where his eye should have been and that the back side of his head was missing. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  Shit, was all I think of to say and as I said it, another shot rang out and the second man lost a good part of his head.

   "We got em," someone yelled. "We got both those no good bastards."

   Two men walked out of the scrub brush and went to claim their trophies. They didn't look up in my direction so I was sure that they didn't even know I was there. They didn't realize that I had already shot the one man in the ankle.

   I swore very softly realizing that those bastards were going to get the reward that had worked so hard for and needed so badly. I thought about my sick child and I needed that money and decided that I wasn't going to let them steal my reward and my child's life.

   They were standing in the open smoking cigarettes and obviously gloating over their kill and telling each other how they were going to spend the money. I scoped the head of the tallest one and put a bullet through his temple. The other turned toward the sound of my rifle and I put a bullet right between his eyes.

  I walked down to where the four dead men were laying. I sat on a rock and sipped some more water trying to figure out just how I was going to make it look like the two murderers had shot the men hunting them and I had killed murderers in self defense.

   I didn't figure on anyone reaching that spot in a jeep but that was what happened.  Before I could come up with any plausible explanation, I heard a jeep making its way up the canyon. I decided that the best thing for me to do was take off and let them try and figure out what had happened.

   I grabbed a piece of scrub brush and tried to erase any boot prints that I had made. I backed into the brush erasing my prints as I walked.  Once I was deep into the brush I turned and started running as fast as I could. I knew that there was not chance of me being heard as long as the jeep was still running.

  When the engine stopped, I slowed to a walk, being careful not to move the scrub or make any noise. I headed back up the canyon trying to make the top before anyone came looking. As I neared the crest of the ridge, two of the other hunters popped up from the other side. I was screwed.

  My mind raced. Should I kill them too? I knew them both. I had gone to high school with one of them. I knew his wife and children. I thought about the children and I knew that I couldn't kill those men and I knew that I could no longer help my child. I thought...Maybe if I were dead?

   I took the pistol from my holster. The last word I heard
 in my life was someone screaming.....don't!

Written for "Carry on Tuesday"...thanks Keith



beauty and sorrow

her voice...the words
lovely beyond anything
I can describe
her sorrow
horrible beyond anything
I can  imagine
why?...I ask
must one have both
beauty and sorrow
I listen
and I hear her beauty
but I feel her sorrow
I hope
she has found
only the beauty
and the
troubles and sorrow
were left behind


please...plug me in

Illuminate my mind
I was told
I looked confused
you know
bring me up to date
you know?...I wondered
if I knew I wouldn't look confused
maybe you should illuminate me
but do it kindly
with love and careing
don't put me down
because I'm slow
or is it that
I really don't know
Please illuminate me
honestly take that
light from head
and plant it in my mind

6 words of me


young man in
an old body


Life's to short...or is it

"Life is too short to work so hard"
I kicked the bed
rolls and groans
I kicked again
no, I won't
muffled from the covers
the covers flew
yes you will
I have no
eggs to suck
leave me alone
wet water
the day
had begun

She cried

She was immune
you know
the good Samaritan law
couldn't be held responsible
she tried
you know
all the cpr
but he was already blue
she cried
even though they said
you're not responsible
she cried
her mind said
he died and
I did not help
no matter what they said
she cried
she was know
the good Samaritan law
but in her mind
she wasn't immune
she cried

Free Food at Whatesnake's Place

Fear not for the future...Weep not for the past ...
Keith says that Shelly said that and then I read on Whitesnakes blog where he also said it and he did a damn good job saying it.

I suppose a lot of people have said it but not in the same words or the same phrasing.
I like to say that I am happy for every thing that has happened to me or not happened to me because I am still here.

I could have won a lottery and then got killed for my money or some other idiotic event. It is insane to look back and say I wish I had done this or that.  If this or that is so damned it now.
Now the future is a different thing and for that I wrote a short story a few days ago that I called "My Castration".

Basically I fear the future or the results of putting myself out for rejection.  However, I am getting over it.  I was just rejected for a special writing class at a local college and it didn't bother me.  Well, maybe a little but, I just decided to flatten the professors tires. However, I chickened out on that one too.  Guess I'll just fly on over to Whitesnake's house and get that free meal he offered today and let the future be damned.

For Kieth and Carry on Tuesday

the landlady

We were to meet at the local coffee shop somewhere around six.  I left my room with just enough time to get there.  I should have left earlier but I had to wait
until my landlady wasn't looking because I was two months back on my rent.
She was drab lady with hair that resembled tendrils that hadn't been pruned for years.  In order to avoid her I snuck out my back door but alas she outsmarted me.  There she was, standing at the bottom of the back stairs tapping her toe on the wood landing.
With hands on hips and temples that were pulsating like a fish out of water she demanded two month rent or it was out on my ass that I would find myself.  Well of course I had to come up with something or I would be sleeping in the alley.
The quickest thing that came to mind was that I was on my to my mother's house to borrow enough to pay her what I owed. Naturally she wanted me back that very evening with cash in hand but I said to her, "Now would you expect me to visit my sick mother and not spend the evening?"
"Sick you say.  My, my that dear poor woman.  What is it she is ailing of, if my ask?'
"Well she doesn't like me to tell people but she is dying of cancer."
"Is there nothing that can be done?"
"There is but it is quite expensive and she doesn't have the money to pay for the treatment that she needs."
"And your going to take some of what she does have?"
"She said that it doesn't matter because she doesn't have enough for the treatment so I may as well pay my rent so I can have a roof over my head when she dies."
"How much does the poor woman need?"
" If she gets the treatment it will cost $10,000."
"And how long does she have left if she doesn't get the treatment?"
"The doctors said one or two months."
She scratched her head and then said, "You just go on over to see your mother and don't you worry about that rent money.  I'll wait and collect it later."
I went on to the coffee shop feeling quite guilty as my poor sick mother had died many years ago.  When I arrived at the coffee shop my date had stood me up.

I sat in the cold drab night, my temples pulsing with shame and tendrils of guilt stabbing my mind.  I couldn't go to my room and didn't bring a warm coat so I shivered through the night learning a lesson but I'm not sure what,  whether to work and be honest or plan my lies and deceit with a little more guile.  I shivered the night vowing to look for work.

The morning sun and a hot cup of coffee warmed my bones.  I stood on a corner and begged for work with my little sign that said "hungry, will work for food".  I made enough to eat and smoke and maybe buy a beer but I would have to duck and dodge the landlady for at least another day or two.

if I die tomorrow

If I die tomorrow
will anyone know
even the souls on
the other side
if I die tomorrow
what will people say
will they even care
or maybe pretend they do
how does anyone deal with death
do they practice
like reading a book
and taking a test
I lost a friend  today
I didn't read a book
there was no test
I wasn't prepared
I flunked in my head
and in my heart
not knowing what to do
or what to say
I turned to my writing mind
a wrote a death for revenge
and it didn't help
so I resurrected my lifeless sacrifice
and screamed at God
he stood above my mind on a cloud
and shrugged his shoulders
and walked away
I lost a friend today
I know I care
but I am helpless
to resurrect a real human being
I lost a friend today
his presence will never be lost
but my mind, my heart
will have a hole where he was sitting
I know that the other side
has won the battle
and they are smiling at his arrival
and somewhere his smile is looking down on me