Every thrust of his hips was planned to showcase his nature
Leaving girls and women screaming at the top of their lungs
Vexing the men that had accompanied them, secretly jealous of his powers
It was a coming of age for an entire generation
Summarized in a single man, an icon, a legend
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Determined to let chance decide not only my fate but everyone’s
I rolled the five of them, hoping for the best, but needing a perfect result
Couldn’t look as they spun to a stop
Everyone gasped. I peeked at the result before screaming triumphantly. The dragon was dead!
Just play a game of cards they said. It will all be fun.
And there I was with a royal flush and a chance to make a couple of quid.
Can’t really lose, so I went all in. When we showed our hands, one guy just lost it
Know what came next? That bloke chased me to the bathroom with an axe screaming “Here’s Johnny!”
The bathroom’s walls were naked
It was screaming to be covered in porcelain
Lilly hated doing the obvious thing
Eventually, the plaster would look so much better.
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So many children were screaming into the void
That the void got frustrated and threw the cacophony back
Resulting in an aural tsunami that came crashing over my consciousness
Undercutting the foundation of my sanity
Giving me a sonic lobotomy
Gone was any chance of getting anything done
Leaving nothingness
Existential emptiness
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Boing, boing, boing went Maurice’s heart down the stairs
Outside he kept his happy face pasted on
Underneath he was screaming and sobbing uncontrollably
No one had told him how to handle the rejection
Counting to ten he smiled weakly at the cashier
Everything had to be put back because his checking account said so
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Nothing was left in the tank. The car had screamed at Greg miles ago that it needed sustenance, but Greg drove on anyway. Why should the car get what Greg could not?
It had been twenty days since she had left him. Now Ginny was on the west coast with her new job and new friends, and here he was in Cleveland, no money, no gas, and no chance of undoing any of his mistakes. To think at one time Greg was her bad boy. Now he was just being bad.
He left the keys inside the stolen car and began walking home. Sometimes you needed a long walk to clear your mind, but all the way to Atlantic City?
After two miles his feet were screaming. Okay, maybe this walk was a bit melodramatic, but it would be a great story to tell Ginny’s sister. She was hotter anyway.
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Being the center of the party meant Jess set the heartbeat as she sipped her champaigne
Until hers skipped a beat as Chad entered the room
Breaking down the man with her million dollar smile
Backing him into a far wall
Licking her lips
Enticing him with her eyes
Screaming his name when the ball hit midnight
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Winking at the new cute girl
Instead of screaming and hitting me, she smiles
Now what do I do next?
Lifting her voice to near jet engine levels, my five month daughter lets me know with subtle nuance that she is currently unhappy. To my fatigued brain I begin down my checklist. Is it time for my wife to stick a breast in my daughter’s mouth? While that would shut me up, my daughter only cares about when she is hungry, and she ate just an hour ago. Let’s see if we can distract her with a toy. Nope, that jet engine now has nothing on her. Maybe it’s a wet diaper. Off to change her. Nope it’s dry. What is next on the list? My daughter shoves her pacifier in her mouth and the world begins to right itself on its axis. Oops, that was just a temporary reprieve as the aural attack commences. I roll my saving throw and fail, receiving 4d8 mental damage. I walk around the house and share her boisterous malcontent with the neighbors in attempt to earn sympathy points for why my lawn isn’t mowed yet. As she reaches for yet another gear I try to remember the next item on the list? Maybe she has gas. I try to burp her while simultaneously giving her gas drops. While the gas drops are a hit, the sound of my eardrum trying to cleave itself in two emanates from my daughter once again. What can I do? This screaming is turning what little brain I have left into a liquid mass threatening to pour through that split eardrum. Suddenly a sonic boom burp tears through the air and the world is at peace. I breathe a sigh of relief as I look into her angelic face. She is such a perfect little baby. At least until I try to put her down…
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 