18 August 2011

The Big Sleep, a #Fridayflash

So I did without a little sleep here and there. The extra hours were great for productivity—those hours after the wee one went to bed and before the sun came in to bid me do the Devil’s work at Big Name Corporation. Driving was the hardest part. Icy cold a/c spewing from the vents in December, shaking my head back and forth to rattle out the snooze spiderwebs. Acid metal in July. Windows all the way down as I yanked my aching, splintering bones through another bitch of a day.

I figured it out. How to not sleep. The best thing ever, because I could just keep working. Burning my candle at both ends ’til what I had left was a puddle of flaming wax searing the skin from my hands. It was a breakthrough.  Everyone left me be when they realized I’d discovered that magical secret. They were obviously jealous of me.

It wasn’t until the men from the bank came to collect the things from my house that I fully understood the permanence of what I’d done.


Photo credit: wintersixfour from morguefile.com

12 August 2011

Goiter Ghost, a #Fridayflash



Morning Bob, how’s that woman coming along? You read her the Riot Act like I told you?

Yeap and she didn’t like it one bit. Took the kids and went to her mother’s.

She’s an ornery one, that Regina.

That woman wasn’t just the orneriest thing out there in the swamp. There was that ghost goiter, Sangerria.

--like a real ghost?

Yes like a real ghost, now shut up, you’re breakin’ the ambulance. 

Don’t you mean ambivalence?

Whatever. Me and Johnny grabbed our bibles and rifles and took on off out there in Jim’s old T so we could get a good look at the Devil.

You can’t see the Devil, Bob.

I know that but that goiter had to be the next best thing. Pale as a corpse with yellow eyes. It snapped and hissed at the both of us but we held fast. See, there was a screwdriver buried deep in its side. It was in a heap of pain and probably dying.

So what’d you do? Pull it out and make friends?

Hell no. We did what any self-respecting country boys would’ve done. We had him for dinner.



(Photo credit: gxman from morguefile.com)