Shitty Images

You spew shit until you die and see what sticks and see what dries. That, that got washed away, is gone for good. Yet, good shit lingers, then stains...for all seasons…remains eternal for no good reason, but for happenstance and protein. Worshipped for simply ‘being there’ by future generations….images captured in raptured imagination...until they, too, are forgot, and then what, is it just a blot?

NOTHING VENTURED

Ether Publishing Competition - "8 Stories in 8 Days"
Topic: ADVENTURE 
(-500 words)

“So this is your idea of an adventure, is it?”

He knew he’d have an uphill battle just getting Doreen to join him on the road trip, and in order to do so, he ‘sold it’ for all it was worth. The culture, the food, the art, the romance…!

But, now, hoses broke and fluids drained, they found themselves stranded well outside of Santa Fe and a long, long way from civilization. Doreen was doing a slow burn in the hot sedan and he had no answers to cool her.

“Why don’t you step out of the car and get some air? There’s a bit of a breeze starting up, and what an incredible view!” He’d hoped the epic scope might inspire her to take a deep enriching breath, and relieve some toxic temper.

“Redheaded, fair and freckled in the high noon sun, Vincent?!  Do you know how long I’d last before I blistered?! About ten seconds!!! And the only view I see is a long empty highway running off into eternity. Have any ideas how we achieve Rescue? Any ideas how we survive?”

“None. I either walk out of here, or someone drives by.”

“You walk out and what? You’d leave me here to bake like some low-and-slow chicken in an all day oven? And exactly how many cars have we passed in the last two hours?

“I don’t know, maybe a dozen all tolled? I mean, there IS traffic. This IS a highway, you know. Why are you shaking your head?”

“A total of Four, Vincent.”

“Towing trucks troll these roads. I’m sure one…”

“No you’re not. And those four cars?…not one was a tow truck.”

“That’s a good thing, I think…odds are, there’s bound to be one along soon.”

“Odds are fucking NIL, Vincent! …I hope there’s music out here…”

“No! Save the battery! No radio! Worse case scenario, we may need the  headlights to signal after dark. And go easy on the water! Save all resources, best you can…”

“Well this adventure is getting better all the time. I’m willing to say, right here, Vincent, that any goodwill and trust you had earned with me has shriveled up in this heat. I accept my responsibility for agreeing to this, but we’ve reached that point. This is where we separate.”

“You want to walk or wait?”

“No choice. I’ll wait, you walk. If someone stops, we’ll come for you. Which way?”

“I suppose back toward Santa Fe. We passed a town back there…”

“If you’re referring to those trailers on the hillside, that was hardly a town…”

“Well someone lives there, and that’s what we need. Somebody to help us get out of here.”

Upon his return he found it. The note read:

Vincent,

A man named Simon stopped and is taking me away. He is elegant, strong and wise. I know I said we’d come for you, but I can’t. I’ve started the real adventure of my life. Tell everyone I’m happy.

Thank you.

SOMBREREO SONATA

Ether Publishing Competition - 

"8 Stories in 8 Days"

Subject: 'Hats' 

(500 words <)

“What’s with the sombrero?”

“It’s a momento.”

“A momento?”

“Yes. Si. …de Mexico.”

“I see. And you plan to wear this onboard?”

“I’ll remove it if I must. I’m not looking to be rude or intrude on anyone’s personal space, if that’s what you’re alluding to.”

“I do not ‘allude’. I asked a direct question.”

“I assume you foresee a pending problemo with mi sombrero?”

“You are assuming I allude, when in fact I asked you a direct question.”

“What’s with the sombrero? is a direct question? Sounds like  vaguery to me.”

“I understand. Allow me to restructure my query - ‘What are your intentions, as you are donning a large sombrero in our airport?’  At the very least, you must admit I did ask if you were planning on wearing it onboard, did I not?”

“You did, and the last thing I want to do is get hung up in the semantics of this conversation. I have a plane to catch.”

“That may depend on the sombrero.”

“What?!”

“Your chapeau…”

“Okay, okay…got that. Clever. But how does this Hat affect me catching my flight?”

“May I see your tickets?”

“Yes, of course, but I have just the one. I am traveling alone.”

“Ah! You see, this is where we disagree. I believe, your sombrero and you will require seating for two.”

“WHAT?!”

“Dos. Perhaps tres…the airline will determine that.”

“That’s preposterous! It’s a goddam hat for chrissakes! Why are you crossing yourself? …oh, yes, sorry…I apologize for offending you…for being so insensitive…so crude. Perdóneme.”

“It’s okay, we hear worse. It’s just something my mother instilled in me…the crossing…very religious. Superstitious…”

“Oh I understand. My mother? Spilled salt…over the shoulder. No shoes on the bed…bad luck.”

“Also, very unsanitary. But you’ll still need two seats.”

“How can that be? I’ll put in the overhead!…or under the seat!”

“Are you being serious with me, or simply deluding yourself? Do you see the size of this hat? Look, take it off. Go ahead, get out from under it. Set it down and step back. Now, look at that. Do you really see this hat fitting under a seat, or in the overhead rack?”

“Well…”

“How tall are you, senor ? Six feet?

“Close. A tad under six…”

“Hold the hat against you. That’s right. What do you see?”

“I can see you…”

“Yes, and I see your eyes, but not much else. I would say that was five feet, at least, would you not?”

“I suppose.”

“You would fill your row with the hat alone.”

“I get it. This is a shakedown. You expect a bribe!”

“Ah! Sorry, senor, one step too far…”

“Meaning?”

“Your hat can go.”

“Great. How much?”

“Whatever you paid for your ticket…”

“Four hundred dollars?! For a hat! Are you serious?!”

“Your hat can go and take your seat, but you will stay and meet our police.”

“No! I can’t! I have to get back…”

“And when you do, may your sombrero be there to greet you.”

Light Post Dog

He found himself at the intersection. The voice, robotic, spoke: 

"Red:No Crossing:STOP:Pedestrian:Red."

...over and over.

Then he heard what he'd not heard before. Not here. In the midst of the metropolis he found a sliver of silence…free of decibels, distraction, distortion, devices, damnations and denials. 

He knew exactly what went wrong…the eyes… how it happened…what was left. But, Today? No one crosses this street but you.  How you got here doesn’t count.

"  WALK:GREEN:NOW:

PEDESTRIAN..."

Please proceed. Your responsibility. It's important you understand those words. Your. Responsibility. Get your ass moving or get it rolled-over halfway.

What...?

Listen. Stay tuned. You can't stop and ponder. Go! Walk the blind man's walk. Step off and keep walking until you’re over. Then keep going after that. This is your space and their shit to deal with, when you decide to take it. 

Who are you?

I am your public servant. 

Why so harsh?

In fact, I am one of the more civil servants.

That's awful. You're just some dick, yanking my chain...

That's not my style. I'm as straight as they come. I'm a fucking street post for chrissakes. 

Fucking with a blind guy...

You pushed the button...

How do I know I can trust you?

If I could walk you, I would, but I'm anchored to my job. I've been thinking about the private sector...very few opportunities await.

You expect me to believe...

Yes. I do. I am part of the System, that You are going to have to learn to trust.

Designed by who? Blind guys?

Engineers, transit, and, yes, I'm sure the blind were involved. 

You know it's a lot harder than closing your eyes and pretending...a lot harder.

I can imagine...

No, you can't.

I'm a post. I have a viewer, a transponder, and an "audiator" ...

What?

Voice box...

You have 'a viewer', I do not.

I hold the fucking camera, like 400 others...we just hold...your shit. They listen and watch in some central bunker...

You're fucking with me.

You're right. I wouldn't go out there if I were you. The light changed while I was busy talking TO YOU!

Asshole.

I suppose. It can be damn cruel out here.

Are you real?

I am to me. Okay go now.

I hear cars. I feel the rumble. The swish...you're fucking with me. I am not without senses...

That's where you got me. I only have sensors. Which do you think are more attuned?

Fucker.

Man, yesterday, wrapped his cane around me…so enraged. He was sorry he did. Gave him no satisfaction whatsoever...plus the damage to his cane. I'm not proud.

What's your real name?

Earl. You?

Mike.

Pleased to meet you, Earl. C'mon, this is me at your elbow. 

Hey!

It's green, I'll walk with you.

I don't need...

Oh, I know, I just enjoy our talk. Now let's go before we miss our light a third time. Do you mind?

No, I don't mind.

You should get a dog.

I think I just got one.

NIGEL'S NIGHT SKY

He'd bring me out here when I was a kid. He introduced me to it. Nigel knew the night sky. And from where we lay we could see Orion , the belt....the dippers...the north star 

"...and that one is Venus ...another planet!...another world!" I about shit my pants when i heard that. Imagine...

It excited him that there were realms so different, and we wondered if anyone was looking back at us in their night sky, a tiny twinkling light in a canopy full of them.

You know the trouble with you Nigel...?

Yes. Any conversation that opens with that question is trouble with me.

I've heard worse, give me a chance...and I'm only trying to help.

What's that term? Trite. That's right "Trite"! So far you've strung two cliches together so would you like to go for a string of pearls or the sow's ass? 

Sorry...what?

You can't make a string of pearls from a pig's ass...or some such...

...Silk purse from a Pig's ear.

Makes no difference. That's the very point. Nothing makes sense, and that includes taking advise from a ...

If you say 'a pig's ass' I will punch you hard in the face.

Don't break my nose again. Won't fit the same. The doc said...

You are a bug-gar, you are...that was forty year ago. You deserved it then, and now maybe again...?!

I was enjoyin' our night, but You bring me crashing back to earth, you know that? You're worse than gravity, you are.

The job has fallen to me. No one else will deal with you. They're all either tired, committed, or dead.  You wore everyone out. You won. Your family is done. 

Fuck all.

You said that once too many times to the wrong people. The ones that mattered.

...ya' say. Where are they? They are the wrong ones...

You can't prove anything to them now, Nigel. They've seen it. They've seen enough....heard enough. It's a shame.

So what are you doing out here? Why you putting up with me?

Because I know that behind that sick-fuck persona lies a mean, spiteful loser...

Great...

And behind that spiteful loser is someone in a shitload of pain. 

So why stick it out? You don't realize by now I' m still very capable of inflicting grief to my rescuers?

I just remember who you are. But, I am not your fucking rescuer.

You're not, eh? Then what the hell you doing out here chatting me up? Telling me what's wrong with me...

You know those swimmers that swim channels and oceans and such?

Yeah.

Those people are out there swimming on their own. Stroke, stroke, stroke....hundreds of fucking strokes...fighting for breath, fighting cold and cramps, jellyfish and sharks...who knows what they endure...

What's the point?

Each of them has a boat.

What?

There's a boat just floatin' along, in case something goes wrong. But they can't pull out the swimmer until that point, so they shout, they encourage, they tell them what they're doing right...doing wrong. But basically they're just floating along side, observing from a safe vantage.

And?

That's me. I'm not involved with your swim, I just pulled alongside to see how you were sinking.

Slowly.

I see that.

So? You just going to float there?

What would you have me do? No rescues...your call. We moved beyond that.

Club me with your oar. Put me under.

Not on your life.

End it!...this pain you see so clearly, end it for me.

Can't swing the oar, I can only hold it out. You grab it if you wish, otherwise you go. Choice is yours Nig'.

Some help.

You wanted none.

Maybe I should just go...

Don't know...I'm...

That's when I saw it. His body lifted and floated just off the dewy grass, the dampness soaked into his coat...his pants, he lifted, wafted, and waved as he floated on invisible gentle swells, lingered awhile, as if caught in the wake of life, but then he lifted again, free of weight, free of fright, he drifted high into that starry night, and grew to be another light in a sea of stars, as seen from Venus.

groping in the dark

ERESORONICLIT

ER - otic

ESO - teric

I - RONIC

                               LIT 

REBECCA'S SHOPPING LUST...LIST

(Part 3 "Spreading Rebecca")

An e-mail full of mischief and anticipation, from Rebecca:

Hey, Baby. Thinking some serious, sensuous thoughts about our weekend. I hope you share them, my Prince of Pedi-Love.

Okay must stop fantasying and get my feet back on the ground, but you know you curl my toes, Ray-Babe. Oink-Oink.

Starting the shopping list…can’t focus on much else…people at work think I’m sick. (NO! Nobody knows…lol) I drift off in thought (YES! …about you!) …. and people ask if I’m daydreaming or ill. I confess only to being ill but tell them somehow “I’ll work through it”. (As for ‘the real sickness’ we’ll keep that between our toes : )  - A few questions as it relates to 'Fun' and the menu, so please work with me here.

Should we engage in play a bit beforehand? I’m just wondering if, after our feasting that we might…well…you know…be a bit bloated?

So, I’m thinking we hit the ground running and dive into S – E – X ,

A – S – A – P…lean and mean. (You know - the ‘rough stuff’? Freaky boy!)

If you’re with me on that note (…and I doubt I’ll hear any complaints) then, afterward, when our libidos are satiated and our appetites titillated, we begin the buffet. I’m wondering, will we be ravenous, or casual nibblers? (Can’t wait to find out. If I know me, I’ll want to eat you alive. Grrrr….but, I digress…again! )

I thought we might start with an aperitif. Would you like a nice dry sherry? You know, to whet the tongue? Dab it here…pour it there…lap it up? (I suddenly find myself wiggling my toes for some reason…).

Goat cheese..a nice chevre…a fig jam perhaps?

What wine? You pick. Pinot maybe?

Are you okay if we don’t go too spicey?…at least for the first time?…I want this buffet to be an all-day affair, and sometimes ‘my tummy’…(well, you know…). We can always spice it up as we go. Maybe We’ll have our own little test and taste kitchen! Won’t that be fun!? …think of the samplers! 

But this first time, let’s go mild and mellow and just enhance the taste of our bodies, what say? (I can read your mind, Mr. Tootsie - you know I can…) I still can't believe we're doing this!
Do you think smoked salmon would work? I just wonder about a fishy after-smell (Don’t want that!)…capers? (Come to think of it, a Caper just might get lost in odd places if you know what I mean…)

Or we could go ‘margharita’ – heirloom, basil, buffalo moz…?

FRUIT! Let’s get whatever is fresh. Melons and berries could fit nicely into the creases…( no banana jokes, mister!…but still something to think about! )…smeared juice all over the torso…yum.

For some bizarre reason I keep thinking of poached eggs! We could do a hollandaise sauce. (Or we could let you make ‘your own’…;) )

I do like the runniness of it all, though…  I visualize the yellow yoke trickling down your chest….I could see myself licking that up. Yummy dreamy...

Pate? Prosciutto? Oysters?

How much champagne?! It’s better to overbuy! Don’t want to come up short! (You have no problem there, my Pedi-bear)

Chinese dumplings? Slippery…smooth…mmmmm.

Cream spinach? 

QUICHE!

CUSTARD!

OOOO....SORBET! Yes, definitely, sorbet.

I am getting so hungry. Hungry and horny for you, honey toes. Who knows where this goes?! (I've been thinking about your canned spaghetti idea...but another time, perhaps. Perfect for a quickie! ;)   

Okay , gotta go before I either orgasm or order-out (...or both). 

I will See You Friday night! Bring extra butter if you have the nuts. It’s going to be a long (lovely) weekend!

Licking lips in anticipation.

Your Ravenous, 

      Mistress Slut-Toe  ;)