Ready (an acrostic poem)

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Relaxing against the wall, he watched his classmates convulse on the dance floor

Everything that night had been disastrous.  First, his date ditched him

And she decided to slow dance with the person who used to be his best friend

Drinking his punch, he wondered what could possibly happen next, but then he laughed

Yes, he knew what was going to happen next.  His master plan was working perfectly.

Punch (an acrostic poem)

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Pushing lead to shoving that escalated from there

Until both idiots were doing a full on scuffle

Now normally I would call for the police to put an end to the altercation

Couldn’t this time, though, since they were two off duty boys in blue

How they explained the black eyes on Monday was going to be interesting

Wall (an acrostic poem)

 

Want to hit it so damn badly

And then punch my way through, removing it from my existence

Leaving only dust to witness where the impediment once stood

Letting me race ahead till I find the next…

 

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Point of Contention (an acrostic poem)

Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to meander in his explanation

Of course he should have decided that about ten minutes ago

Instead, here he was, and even he knew he was mucking up the whole thing

Now he stopped speaking and held his breath, hoping she would let it pass

That’s when he became the punch line, literally, and she knew how to hit

 

Ouch, but that was not the worst of it

For that’s when she turned and stomped out of his life leaving him in a hard place

 

Considering she took with her the engagement ring as a consolation prize

Obviously she wanted to hurt him in the pocketbook as well

Not like this was the first time they had had a major disagreement

To tell you truth he felt more like the victim in this situation

Even her sister had taken his side in the dispute

Now that could be because she was a bit biased

The fact that the sister was the woman he was making out with when she walked in

It might have something to do with it

Of course there was only one thing to do

Now that should make really interesting Thanksgivings

 

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Pastries to the Rescue! (a very short story)

I’m like a broken clock, right twice a day.  Unfortunately, this was not one of them.  How did I know?  The man’s fist changing the direction my chin had been pointing mere moments earlier was my first hint.  Luckily my body is that of a trained warrior.  Well one that had way too much vodka to drink, hadn’t seen combat in the last twelve years and spent half of that time eating fancy buttery French pastries for a living.

At least gravity didn’t fail me.  I collapsed to Mother Earth’s embrace.  I must have offended her as well since her arms were so hard and cold.  I wanted to mourn this decline in our relationship when the aforementioned man decided to kick me in the gut.  That was his big mistake.  I had him right where I wanted him.  I folded myself around that foot and introduced the caught appendage to the regurgitated contents of my lunch, which included an egg sandwich encased in a wonderfully flaky croissant dosed with a lemony hollandaise.  It was so good going down, but not so much coming back the other way.

Still, that was enough to make the man yank his foot out and leave me alone.  As I laid there in my own stomach juices I wondered how this could get worse.  Then I snuffled.

Man, stomach acid and nostrils just don’t mix.

 

 

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Touch (an acrostic poem)

Tim saw Josie bent over, trying to fix her computer

Oh man, she was in those tight yoga pants

Unable to control himself, he reached out

Cupping her firm backside with both hands

Her response was a swift punch to his nose, breaking it, his heart, and his employment

 

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Painful (an acrostic poem)

Passion pushed Marcus forward

After the first punch, Marcus tried to cover up

Instead he ate five more

Nothing seemed to stop the onslaught

Fighting had been his entire life

Until that moment when he knew he was over matched

Looking up from the canvas, Marcus knew his fighting days were done

 

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The Double D’s (a 100 word monologue)

I have looked into the face of Defeat, and I have laughed.  Defeat then punched me in the face and asked if I still thought it was still funny as I fell to the ground.

So now I am looking at the feet of Defeat, and I chuckle again because the feet of Defeat just sounds silly.  Defeat does not take too kindly to this and makes sure I get a close up of Defeat’s feet as Defeat kicks me in the teeth.

I just hope tomorrow I can still find my teeth, because I have a date with Destiny.