Author: Linda G. Hill

#SoCS – Volunteer

I should never have volunteered to drive you home. It would have cost me less to throw you in a cab than to have to clean the upholstery of my car, but then who would have carried you into the house? I’d hate to think the cab driver might have just dumped you out in your driveway and left you there to freeze, or worse, drown in your own vomit.

I threw my back out, you know. Carrying you up the stairs at the front of your house to get you inside. Why the hell do you live on the second floor? For God sakes, you could have at least had the decency to move into a ground floor apartment. And then there was Rex.

You told me your dog was friendly. Yeah, right. So why have I been sitting in the emergency room for three hours, again, for the second time in the last three days? Oh right. You didn’t know he’d somehow contracted rabies. Sure thing.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I still have a huge lump on my head from the cast iron frying pan your ex-wife hit me with, when she found out I let you get drunk in the first place. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have told her. But how was I to know your last words to her were, “Of course I’m going to AA meetings”?

I did think you had a lot of nerve to invite me out for a beer to make up for it all. And there you are texting me again…

I nede a rid hoame. At teh bar.

Hehe. Go fuck yourself.

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This post was written in stream of consciousness and left unedited. If you’d like to participate in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, just click the link and see how! https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-2216/

Dear Diary – Millions

October 21/16
Dear Diary

“Of all the millions of fish in the sea, you’re the one I want.”

You know how many guys have said that to me over the years? Of course you do. You’re my diary. I should go back and count. Because all of them? Were lying.

Today Jimmy said it. Jimmy of all people. I could look into his blue eyes and almost believe it.

Should I, Diary? Is he really “The One”? I guess we’ll see.

Beautiful

“My mom is old,” said Billy as he plowed his truck through a pile of sand alongside the curb.

“My mom is ancient!” said Tommie. He ran his car head-on into Billy’s.

“What are you boys doing?” asked Tommie’s mom, coming up behind them and scaring both.

“We’re just talking about how beautiful our moms are,” answered Tommie.

Tommie’s mom smiled. “You can keep that up.”

Tommie shrugged and his mom walked away.

Angles

“You’re all angles. One minute you’re here and the next you’re 180° the other way. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well, I’ll tell it like this: once you’ve spend a year underground doing various things for a drug overlord…”

“A what now?”

“You heard me right. A drug overlord. Why else would I be underground?”

“Oh I dunno. Digging a tunnel for a subway maybe?”

“Is that what you thought I was doing all this time? The railroad is my life!”

“But you said…”

“What? That I was digging a subway? What else would I be doing?”

“Were you digging northward or southward?”

“Eastward.”

“Right. Westward it is.”

No Trust

Lisa had been led to believe that when her ailing rich uncle finally passed away, she would receive a trust fund until she reached the age of twenty-five. Whether it was because he died before he had a chance to place a restriction on her inheritance, or he never meant to in the first place, would never be known. All Lisa DID know was that in the space of a day she’d gone from packing her work lunches in brown paper bags, to being able to quit her job and live in luxury.

Although walking away from the daily grind at the office was tempting, she decided not to. Instead, she kept her job and bought a house on the posh side of town. Right next door to Roland, the flashiest, most eligible bachelor within a hundred miles. In Lisa’s opinion, it was the only drawback of the whole deal.

Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to try to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. In the tags below, you’ll see the genre I’m considering for the above story. Feedback is welcome.

#SoCS – Going in blind

This is so dangerous. This interview is my last hurdle. After this, if I succeed, I get the job and I’m off and fulfilling my dream.

I go in. The room is painted white; there are no pictures on the walls, no windows – no colour except the laminated faux wood table and a green chair. One chair. Will my interviewer stand?

On the table is a sheet of paper. I think at first it’s blank, but I turn it over and there are questions.

#1. (Your first test.) Do you have a pen?

I pull a pen out of my purse and for a second I panic – it doesn’t work!!! I scribble for a while on the back of the paper and a faint blue line appears. It gets darker. Good.

I write “yes” for the first question.

#2. If you were a bug, and you wanted to get into a house but there were screens at the windows, would you:
a) try to squeeze through the screen
b) wait for someone to open a door
c) find another house

What kind of question is that???!!! I ask myself. Flustered, I go on to the next question without answering.

#3. Did you answer question #2? If not, go back now.

I look around the room. Is there a camera? Am I being watched? This is weird. I answer question #2, b. I’m a fairly patient person… I mean bug. Whatever. I write “yes” for question #3.

#4. What is your dream job?

Is this a trick question? It’s the one I’m applying for. I write that.

#5. What colour is white?

White. That’s got to be the correct answer. Or is it? Is white a colour? If not, how do I answer the question? Holy shit, this test is hard.

#6. If your owner holds you by the back of the neck, do you:
a) bite him or her
b) calm down and remain subdued
c) explain that you’re not a dog, and would he or she please let go

What the fuck? I’m just about to cap my pen and be on my way when the door opens and a handsome man in a white suit with a white shirt and tie walks in and stands on the other side of the table.

“Hello,” I say.

The man says nothing. Expressionless. He puts his hands on his hips and blows air out from between his pursed lips. I wait.

“What do you do?” he asks finally.

“What… do you mean?”

“Question #6. You were about to leave. What would you do in that situation?”

I look down at the paper and read the question and the possible answers again. “Umm… c?”

“Is that your final answer?”

I look down again. I’m definitely not a dog. “Yes. That’s my final answer.”

Suddenly the room lights up with yellow and red flashing, turning lights. I feel as though I’m in a game show.

“Congratulations!” the man says. “You’ve got the job!”

I slump down in my seat, and put my forehead on the table. I got it. I got it. I GOT IT!

I’m going to make people millionaires!

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This slightly insane post (is this how Regis Philbin got the job?) is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the following link to read the rules and join in: https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-1516/

Fire

It started and ended with a candle. If foresight had told me you’d burn down the house on my thirty-first birthday, would I have fallen for you that fateful night at Stella’s Steakhouse and Grill?

Just the fact that we ever got together was a miracle. My date–Lester? Leonard? I can never remember his name–and I were sitting by the window and you and whats-her-name were across the aisle. All through dinner I admired your profile in the candlelight. When you weren’t turning to gawk at me, that is. I recall feeling so sorry for her. She noticed the attraction between us. Lestard was oblivious.

It wasn’t until later that night as we walked along the boardwalk in the moonlight, hand-in-hand, that you told me you’d been on a blind date. I lied. The fact that I was engaged to a guy whose name escapes me tells me even now that you and I were meant to be. For whatever reason.

Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to try to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. Feedback is welcome.

Blanks

How, with all the blanks filled in, can I still not manage the colour of the sky? It’s too vast, I tell myself. Cloudless, it’s too pure. When I see those fluffy white beasts, I say, get away, you’re blocking my view.

Why is the sky so hard to draw?

I think it may be that I want not to float out of my body and high up there, when I die.

Should I mar the purity, of the sky.

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Promises

Promises in the dark
we’ll never fall in love
lasted months
but then
you had to go
because you know
promises must be kept.

Original

“There are no original stories under the sun,” said the alien, as she sat upon a sea-sprayed rock.

“That’s a rather narrow view,” said the sea serpent.

The alien shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Well then,” said the sea serpent, “why don’t you go talk to the accountant in my belly?” And the sea serpent ate the alien.

“Hello,” said the alien, once adequately digested. “You must be the accountant.”

“What was your first clue?” asked the man, looking up from his adding machine.

“I assumed you were the only one in here.”

“I probably am,” said the accountant as he went back to his work.

“The sea serpent and I were discussing stories, and how there is nothing new. Do you agree?”

“No. I think there is everything new, just as there are always new calculations to be made.”

“Would you two shut up already?” came the booming voice of the sea serpent.

“But you told me to discuss it with my new friend here, Mr…”

“Mr. Blankenship,” replied the accountant.

“How unoriginal,” said the alien.

The accountant only smiled.

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This post is prompted by the Daily Post, and Tuesday Use It In A Sentence, where this week the word is “narrow.” Click on the word above to check it out!