Have I been so out of the effing blog loop that I can no longer even DELETE a mistake of 'posting' something twice...??
Sheesh!
she...irritated
"Why do you send those types of 'pics'?"
She had a twist tie in her mouth.
Half in her mouth.
"Hey!"
She kicked the sofa to get his attention.
"Why do you, huh? I know that is what you are doing with your mobile phone. I know you are taking 'pics' and then sending them to people. Why?"
She repeated this question.
Over and over.
In a sing-song voice.
She sounded like a popcorn kernel
that went down the
garbage disposal.
"Why? Why? Why?"
One last,
final,
hard kick.
She moved the sofa.
Jarred his
comfortable
sitting position.
"Why don't you ever fucking send them to me?"
She had a twist tie in her mouth.
Half in her mouth.
"Hey!"
She kicked the sofa to get his attention.
"Why do you, huh? I know that is what you are doing with your mobile phone. I know you are taking 'pics' and then sending them to people. Why?"
She repeated this question.
Over and over.
In a sing-song voice.
She sounded like a popcorn kernel
that went down the
garbage disposal.
"Why? Why? Why?"
One last,
final,
hard kick.
She moved the sofa.
Jarred his
comfortable
sitting position.
"Why don't you ever fucking send them to me?"
she...irritated
"Why do you send those types of 'pics'?"
She had a twist tie in her mouth.
Half in her mouth.
"Hey!"
She kicked the sofa to get his attention.
"Why do you, huh? I know that is what you are doing with your mobile phone. I know you are taking 'pics' and then sending them to people. Why?"
She repeated this question.
Over and over.
In a sing-song voice.
She sounded like a popcorn kernel
that went down the
garbage disposal.
"Why? Why? Why?"
One last,
final,
hard kick.
She moved the sofa.
Jarred his
comfortable
sitting position.
"Why don't you ever fucking send them to me?"
She had a twist tie in her mouth.
Half in her mouth.
"Hey!"
She kicked the sofa to get his attention.
"Why do you, huh? I know that is what you are doing with your mobile phone. I know you are taking 'pics' and then sending them to people. Why?"
She repeated this question.
Over and over.
In a sing-song voice.
She sounded like a popcorn kernel
that went down the
garbage disposal.
"Why? Why? Why?"
One last,
final,
hard kick.
She moved the sofa.
Jarred his
comfortable
sitting position.
"Why don't you ever fucking send them to me?"
she on a September Tuesday
“It’s called progress,” she said.
“PROG-GRESS!”
She emphasized the word with a snarky tone.
And a flip of her hair.
With her arm extended she held her hand up and spread her fingers. She admired the silver and gold rings that did not adorn her.
“I didn’t mind her being here,” she spoke very softly, “in fact, I enjoyed it. You know?” A reminiscent giggle escaped. Before she had a chance to put her emotions in check. “I can’t believe the first thing I did, before even shutting all the windows, was to start a load of laundry. Do you believe that?”
“PROG-GRESS!”
She emphasized the word with a snarky tone.
And a flip of her hair.
With her arm extended she held her hand up and spread her fingers. She admired the silver and gold rings that did not adorn her.
“I didn’t mind her being here,” she spoke very softly, “in fact, I enjoyed it. You know?” A reminiscent giggle escaped. Before she had a chance to put her emotions in check. “I can’t believe the first thing I did, before even shutting all the windows, was to start a load of laundry. Do you believe that?”
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