fiction

#SoCS – Abide

I can’t bear to abide by the rules of love. Why is it, for instance, insisted that love go both ways? Or that we must have met in the flesh? I can love you simply because I know you. I’ve heard your songs and I know you wrote them for me. They speak to my heart. They bare your soul to me, just as though you were here, on your knees, singing to me.

Why should I suppress my everlasting love for you? I shall lay down my life for you, if you ask.

You hear me, don’t you?

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This piece of Stream of Consciousness fiction is part of SoCS. Click the link to read more posts, and join in, too! https://lindaghill.com/2016/12/09/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-1016/

That Something

“It’s missing something,” Samantha said as she drew the spoon away from her lips and stirred the pot again.

Petra frowned at her. “Did you remember the eye of newt?”

“Of course! It’s the main ingredient.”

“How about the toad toes?”

Samantha snorted. “They were a pain in the ass. Picking all those tiny nails off?”

“You didn’t have to, you know.”

“Normally not. But the little buggers had been to the salon. I didn’t want nail polish in the brew.”

Petra pointed her own sharply filed nail at her friend and winked. “Good thinking.”

“What else might I be missing?”

“No clue. This is what you get for not writing down the recipe when Zelda was still alive.”

“That’s it! She always used to cry a tear into it. What are we going to do?”

Petra squinted. “I think I can squeeze a tear out.”

“No!” Samantha cried. “Zelda was a virgin. That’s the whole purpose behind this concoction. To help us become born-again virgins, so we can experience having our cherries popped again.”

“Right. So who do we know who’s a virgin. Oh, I know! That Jimmie brat down the street. I’d like to make him cry for digging my asparagus up last spring.”

“Let’s go get him!”

***
Three months later…

“I think all we’re missing is the last ingredient,” Samantha said as she drew the spoon away from her lips and stirred the pot again.

“Excellent. Little Suzie’s just waking up.”

“Can’t wait to get rid of this penis.”

“Nope,” Petra said, scratching her balls. “Me neither.”

Protesteth

How doth one protesteth a petty injustice, when one’s very sustenance is at stake?

“Mummy? Whilst thou giveth me mine cookie?”

Ah, to babble, perchance to speak? Perhaps whence mine age becometh two.

Martyr

“Okay guys, I’m going in. Gonna take one for the team.”

“But Timmie, you’ll die!”

“Yeah, Timmie! If you break away, chances are you’re not gonna make it!”

“Gordon, Freddie, it’s okay. It was nice knowin’ ya.”

“Noo!! Timmie, nooo!!”

“Oh well, there goes one of the good ones. Aaaand SMOOSH! Okay, who’s up next? Ralph? Ralph? Come on, Ralph, you can beat that fly swatter!”

“Yeah, Ralphie! You’re the quickest one there is!”

“”Okay guys, I’m going in. Gonna take one for the team.”

“But Ralphie, you’ll die!”

“Yeah Ralphie! Or maybe you’ll make it! See ya soon, Ralphie! Aaaand SMOOSH! Man, it’s good these guys have a short memory. Who’s up next? Hey, Marty!”

***
The Daily Post: Martyr

Vanished

Mom’s going to kill me. She left me alone for one measly weekend. “It’ll be okay!” I said. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry, go have fun!” She’s going to be home in ten minutes and the dog has disappeared. Vanished. One minute he was on his chain in the back yard and the next, he’s just gone. His collar is there, still done up but no dog.

Can she blame me for this? Not if she believes me. But I know what she’s going to say. I staged it to look like some mysterious thing happened to her baby. Her favourite pet of all time. God, she loves that dog more than she loves me.

What the hell am I going to do?

Maybe I’ll disappear, too.

Cultured

“Arthur, face it. That little strumpet Arthur Junior brought home will never fit in.”

“But Henrietta, dear, she’s the only one he’s invited for dinner, and he’s twenty-five years old. We have to at least consider her.”

“Nonsense. You can’t turn a sack of chaff into a cultured pearl. It just can’t be done.”

“Well then what are we going to do, darling? Your son is as ugly as sin.”

“My son? He’s got your name.”

“Would you rather we’d called him Henry Junior? Quiet. Here they come.

“We were just discussing you, Junior.”

“Arthur…”

“Your mother was commenting on what a lovely lady you’ve brought home with you.”

“Her name is ‘Jennifer,’ Arthur.”

“Yes, yes. Jennifer. Which school did you say you attended? Hard knocks, you say? Har har har. Yes, well. I think you’re needed on the phone, Junior. The yacht club called. Yes, they’ve been holding on for fifteen minutes. Geeves will see Miss Jennifer out. So long, Jennifer.”

…

“I think you handled that quite well, Arthur.”

“Thank you, Henrietta, my dear.”

Stinky

“You in the back row, um… let me see… Sarah, please use the word ‘pungent’ in a sentence.”

“Walter, in my math class, is very pungent.”

“Sarah! That’s not very nice. Do you know what the word ‘pungent’ means?”

“Yes, it means smelly.”

“That’s right. Step out into the hall, please. And don’t come back in until I tell you to.”

“But, Miss Foster…”

“I said go out of the class, young lady.”

…

“Now. What is the next word? Ah, yes. This is a good one. Nick? I remember your name. Would you please use the word ‘warren’ in a sentence.”

“Walter would live in a warren if he didn’t live in a cage in our math class.”

“Ahem. Very good, Nick. Would you please do me a favour and ask Sarah to come back in?”

Pretty – #SoCS

He loved her secretly. She was the prettiest girl he’d ever met. Beautiful inside and out. But he had no choice; he couldn’t tell her, or anyone else. His step-mother would be against the match. And no wonder. For she was the daughter of his step-mother’s brother. Almost his cousin, but not quite.

One day, they’d run away together, he thought. When they were older. Maybe when they were teenagers.

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This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the link to read more posts, and see how you can join in: https://lindaghill.com/2016/11/25/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-2616/

Black Friday

“Are you ready for our chaotic day at the shops tomorrow, then?”

“It’s the ‘stores,’ luv. We’re in America now.”

“Oh, all right then. The ‘stores.’ Are we taking the lorry or the car?”

“We’re going to take the truck. We’d better if we’re going to buy a new bed.”

“Right then. Better get the shopping bags out of the boot of the car for the small stuff.”

…

“What’s that sigh for?”

“Nothing, me luv. Did you ask them to close off the lift when we get back?”

“Yes I did. And it’s the ‘elevator.'”

Arro-Matic

“It’s the newest thing in weaponry and I got it right here. You, Sir! You! Yes, you. Come on over and see the best new thing money can buy. It’s the Arro-Matic. You hold the bow just so and fit the arrow right here and pull the trigger. Here, why don’t you try it?”

“Hey, that looks pretty good. But how does it smell?”

“Smell? What do you mean ‘smell’? This here’s a state-of-the-art weapon. Money can’t buy anything better than this. Why in God’s name do you want it to smell?”

“What did you say it was called?”

“The Arro-Matic! Best darned bow and arrow you can get.”

“Arro-Matic. Arro-Matic…”

“Sir, I’m not getting your drift.”

“False advertising, that’s what that is.”

“Sir, I think you should just move on. And don’t be calling me a stinking salesman!”