Thursday, October 20, 2016

Little Shopping Horrors

Wexler stopped his cart in men’s toiletries and had to marvel at the sheer volume of product space devoted solely to the elimination of whiskers. So many complicated choices for such a simple product. The cheap, plastic, multi-blade disposables were of little use and easily ruled out. The single edge jobs he settled for the last time had occasioned a couple of close shaves. They were sturdy but bulky and had proven risky. Those were out too. Wexler came to his selection and tossed it into the cart. He crossed "razors" off and saw "produce" was last on his list. He drew a line through that as well and steered his cart away convinced that you really couldn't beat the way a good, old fashioned, Wilkinson Sword double edge blade virtually disappears when pressed into a shiny red apple.

Cat Tale

Daddy says Sissy an' me can go swimmin' once I skint this mess o' cats. Mama asked how many we caught.  Daddy cyphered up one for near about every finger and toe and reckoned upwards of a dozen. Mama said, “Well I swannie, we got plenty lard but Sissy’s goin’ need to run yonder for more corn meal if y’all want hush puppies.”

Well of course we want hush puppies. Sissy’d tore halfway out the yard before mama could call her back to get two dollars. She gave her a extra dime to get her and me a chick-o-stick for dessert.

Canvas Prompt No. 36
Photo by David Lovin

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Whistle Wile

“So Bob, what line are you in?”

“I head up complacency and acquiescence for The Department of Unrelenting Toil.”

“Ahhh, that must be fascinating work.”

“Actually, fascination is frowned upon at the DUT.  Spirit, general enthusiasm, even keen interest are just the sort of things I’m hired to keep a lid on.”

“I had no idea.”

“Oh yeah, those things can only lead to pride. And as we say over at the DUT, pride goeth before a stall. Haha! But seriously, left unchecked satisfaction from a job well done can lead to high fives, chest bumps, even spontaneous hugging. If you don’t nip it, you can wind up dealing with a full blown Joy Spike. Under my watch we have over 800 elation free days. Exuberant outbursts are essentially a thing of the past."


"Thanks, we make it a full 3 years and I'll be kicked upstairs to an office, with windows.”

“Well, good luck with that. I mean, if it makes you happy. I suppose though, celebrating your promotion would fall counter to your occupational agenda.”

 “Oh, not to worry. Level three office windows are all bullet proof.”

Wednesday, July 29, 2015


Dog winged the monkey's gerdonderplonk just past ceremony. Winkle-wizzened water garglers awoke wanderjanked while apple-gated confederates slept on. Rusty pipe smack-down cancelled water lily gumbo's two o'clock and Patsy sang Crazy for the millionth time. Cart-wheeling donkey kong cougar camp visionaries lament then relent and consent. Rotty board deliverance wiggles wormy can-can hula-hoops and a dirty dozen daisies die. Woman howls moon, monkey bites Dog, man slaps clock and Patsy still crazy, falls silent.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Hoo Koo e Haiku

Bacon Derailleur
Gravy Chain With Biscuit wheels 
Sunday Bicycle

Friday, August 16, 2013

Reading Ripples

The bottle you have chosen is a precocious little number that hints of vinyl car-seat leg sweat infused with the subtle nuances of Frito crumbs. The floor-al bouquet with notes of hippie sandal and paste wax may bring a tear to the eye. It pairs nicely with chicken or fish and is perfect partnered with ham that smells like fish. Drink romantically from a paramour’s shoe of this grape never stomped. Make Jello-shots or pour it on your cornflakes. Seriously it's yours now, we don't care if you brush your teeth with it or pour it in your radiator.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Good Morning Six

I see the guitar that my cousin played in prison, is floating with the tv in the swimming pool. A topless girl is sleeping sunny side down on the picnic table, her hands tucked prayerfully under one sweaty cheek, her face innocent as a three year old sleeping off a big day at the carnival. The girl must have called it a night early because every surface of the table she does not occupy, is covered with empty bottles and cans. If lifted away carefully, a constellation of her would remain.

Duke trots over to where Joey has passed out on the lawn, drops a slobbery tennis ball in his face and I hear from inside, others beginning to grumble and groan awake.

I zip up after the longest whizz of my life, spot a half full Corona on the girl’s table, tilt the cigarette butt out along with the lime and drink a toast to another fine Saturday morning.


This Six was a response to a challenge Gita Smith threw down on the now defunkt Six Sentences site. Her challenge was to write a Six using the first line of a song for the first sentence. I chose Jim White's, Handcuffed To A Fence In Mississippi but used the line I like best rather than the very first.