This is an ASSSIE BREAKFAST; a muse game where your partner gives you one damn random word per sentence to move a story along. Thank you so very, very much, Helen + Jeff.
He sent his man's-man out to the store to buy the nights dinner only to return empty handed.
The evening’s entertainment was spent projecting movies on clean beige china.
The morning began as the type of day when one does not know what time it is until the evening's dim sets in to darken the mandatory list that is randomly crossed off.
Last were the rifles. As objects of significance, they were to be cleaned justly, done directly + at point blank.
When they were shot worthy, the artillery came in handy as the dogs barked incessantly, so instead of throwing them hush puppies he shot them.
He breathed in the aroma of blood + smoke and from his mouth flew the purple ravens spoken of in mythos.
For a few seconds he was full w/ complete expansion if the air around him, leaving no room for other egos. The darkness was quiet, close + suffocating.
Looking through the color of rot was not his favorite paradigm.
As his mind chased through, scratching + trying to rid itself of the tragic hue, he saw memories numbered out of order. Those memories organized + queued in line-up vying for his attention.
The one most interesting happened to be absent. Perhaps a drunken blackout memory that someone else owned + is not sharing.
He adjusted his mask +
stepped out onto the sidewalk.
stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The sun shone his shadow, exposing him as a ridiculous and fictitious character. His ears were the likes of George Bailey widening his palms to show the length of a suitcase.
Wrongly, he remembered his list and went to collect water but he forgot what it was for.
The postage stamp screen on his taskmaster devise suggested no-such-thing.
He doubted the physical world.
Not using a hand signal is rude and dangerously idealistic.
As is putting glass plates in the juicer.
Life is a zero sum equation.
And it only gets darker.
Well, okay, then.
Do i get to vote?
One of my favorite unrealized tee shirts:
We may be Slow, but we’re Expensive.
Honestly, i have those horrifying moments while driving, when i completely + absolutely do not know where i am. Intellectually, i know it will only last a moment, but emotionality that moment lasts an eternity.
i like savoring the feeling of being ahead of whatever game i’m playing. Being ahead is better than the view never changing...
Everything on my do-to list is to-done. i know it’s a scrim illusion, all an ongoing relentless process. But hey, throw me a bone here.
Moreover, while i’ve spent these few minutes hunting + pecking i’ve probably lost my edge, so it was all a moot point.
i’ll mash print anyhow.
Someone turn on the radio, it is mostly way too noisy in here.
Equilibrium didn’t, so he sank to sitting w/ arms akimbo.
His mind’s eye witnessed the interior wind as a hue of insulting pink.
Mentally circling the area didn’t earn the satisfaction of curiosity.
Close in, his name was whispered w/ British ascent, via the clip of the tongue that makes Eric sound somewhere near attic. From the far side his mother called out her native-american name for him; Too-stubborn-to-put-on-a-coat. This nickname hit something unyielding + ricocheted back out. Mind clenched as his fists hardened. His mouth opened in silent combativeness, then thought twice, capturing the first syllable.
Looming encapsulated, he shuttered + accepted entrapment + exposure. Steps away from void, stepped in from another form of void. Hermetically sealed in a Fabergé egg. Cracked w/ windows called eyes. He sensed aura of life dodging about him + talking in vibration. Darting + fetching, stalling + proceeding.
Thoughts tumbled in rapid fire, one after another, but he refused to ignite each one. Every one smothered + drowned in turn before it had been identified. Looking deeper inside revealed an empty room filled w/ intangibles able to squirm through, + he began the chase to the other side out.
Yielding to clinched eyes that envisioned sparks flying. A queue of bubbles rose from his mouth heading to the surface. A last bit of breath released above the surface of the mere.