Saturday afternoon, May 4, 2013
The Homicidal Suitor
Everyone thought she knew what she was
doing, and
maybe she did when May winds blew in
early. But
between her recovery with the one-eyed
tattooed circus man &
her re-ocurring visions of pinwheel
cookies,
she knew she had a winner. But only if
she could knock off the bearded lady.
She was
a regular at the circus, someone known
to fit in and out of tents. No one
knew
her name but all knew her face. The
bearded
goat called from the yard again, he
loved her face. She
moved away from the window, sat down
in a chair,
and took up a book. She turned to the
last page
and began to sink into the world
created by her new favorite adventure
author.
Adventures were often on her mind since
she
had a cat named Fred who often shit in
her gardening
shoes. But what could she do? Fred was
her soul mate
despite the fact that his breath
smelled like B.O.
She leaned in anyway and whispered, “Do
you
how much is a train ticket to Peru?”
He replied,
his breath like a porcupine against her
eyelids, “No, I
just can't do it. You're a nice woman
and all,
but I'm just not interested in nice
women. Not
into women at all. Don't be fooled by
the butch
exterior, sweet thing. I'm more woman
than you.
1 comment:
This was a wonderful writing exercise. The premise is simple. Have someone write three lines, then fold the paper so only the last line is showing. Pass the paper to the next person with just that last line showing and have them write three more lines based on what they see. Fold it over with the last line showing and pass it along. Rinse and repeat until everyone has had a chance to participate. Then read the Frankensteinian concoction. The weirdness is pervasive and infective
The writing in purple is mine. I can't wait until we try this again.
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