can’t see the future
it’s unanticipable
unqualified to speculate
can’t anticipate
what they’re going to do
do they know?
can they prognosticate?
or are they prostrate
scratching their noggins
debilitatably stuck?
ain’t got the answers
maybe neither them too
so what are we to do?
wait and see
indubitably
“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!”
“Look! You’ve scorched the milk, Norman.”
“I’m sorry, Harriet my love. I don’t know what’s come over me today.”
“Do you think it’s got something to do with …you know?”
“It might, my love.”
“Oh, Norman. We did have a laugh though.”
“Hehe. Yes, yes we did.”
“Well then. What are we going to do with all this scorched milk?”
“Harriet, my love, why don’t you just pour it in the cat’s bowl? Give him a treat.”
“I s’pose I could, at that. We’ve had ours. Do you have any more of those pills left?”
“Harriet! You’re not thinking about that now, are you?”
“Why not? Let’s go scorch the sheets.”
“All right, then.”
Fuuuuck! I just dropped a piece of fish off my fork on the way to my mouth. Do I pick it up? Do I let it sit in the carpet? Who the hell puts shag carpet in their dining room anyway? The host of this dinner party, apparently. I already feel like I don’t belong among these stuck-up prissy billionaires, with their posh manners and their ‘oh-so-very’ way of talking.
Why don’t these people have a dog?!? If I pick it up I’ll look like an idiot who can’t feed himself, and if I don’t, they’re going to remember who sat here and made their stupid shag carpet smell like wharf in August. And why the hell are they serving fish at a party? Don’t they know how many regular people can’t stand fish?
I know. I’ll drop my knife and when I pick it up, I’ll get the fish at the same time.
What the fuck? Where’d that servant come from? Aaaand he’s bringing me a clean knife. Great. So much for that idea.
I don’t really like the looks of the woman sitting opposite me. Maybe I’ll kick it under her chair. Then they’ll think she dropped it and I’ll be off the hook. OFF THE HOOK! THAT’S FUNNY! Okay, I’ve got to stop giggling. People are looking at me.
“Yes, the weather is lovely this time of year. What was I laughing at? Oh, um, nothing.”
Smooth. Okay, now if I can just kick it over there… Damn it! The soles of these fancy dress shoes are too slippery. I’ll have to take my shoe off.
UGH! I can smell my own feet. Gotta slip my shoe back on. Now the old lady across the table is giving me the eye. Wait, did I nudge her with my foot? Oh God, I might have! She’s going to think I want to play footsies!
AHHH! She’s sticking her toe up my pant leg! Gotta stay calm, gotta stay calm. I’ll just smile at her and… Dear God she winked at me!!
“Excuse me, I just have to, um, use the facilities. Could you direct me… Down the hall to the left? Thank you.”
Okay, time to make my escape. Should I try and pick up the piece of fish? Maybe I can just bend down and nobody will notice… Holy shit… OUCH! The lady across from me just kicked me in the mouth!
“I wasn’t… I mean, I was just trying to… Oh fuck it.”
Well I won’t be invited back here again. I hope the old lady enjoys her fluffy shag-covered fish for dinner.
i married a man
with cereal aisle psychosis
whom i can leave to ponder
this or that
or that or this
for half a day
and still wind up
with naught
but a bowl of milk
for breakfast
my question is
if the cereal aisle
is such a conundrum
how did he
choose me?
“I don’t wanna eat my vegetals,” said William as he dropped his spoon on the floor.
“William, you know what we talked about. You have to eat your vegetables or else you’re going to get sick,” said Mom.
“You eat vegetals all the time and you get sick sometimes.”
“That’s because I catch it off other people.”
William thought about that for a moment. “Mom, why do people throw vegetals?”
“People don’t throw them. They eat them.”
“But you said you catched vegetals from other people.”
Mom laughed, “Oh, no I catch colds from other people.”
“People throw colds?”
“Yes, William. Something like that, at least.”
“Why don’t you drop the colds like when you don’t catch a ball?”
“I wish it was that easy. Now eat your vegetables, please.”
“But I don’t wanna.”
“William. I told you eat your vegetables. William! Stop throwing your vegetables!”
“But they’re colds! Other people throw colds, why can’t I?”
“They’re not colds! They’re just cold because you’re taking so long to eat them!”
“They’re germy now. Aren’t colds germies?”
Mom sighed. “Yes, William. Yes they are.”
The Chicago Cubs won the Hyper Bole and the entire planet celebrated!
Dear Brian (I think that was your name.)
I want to convey my sincere apologies for my husband’s behaviour at the restaurant tonight. I thought you were an excellent waiter. But please understand that my husband is very jealous, so when I complained that my fork was dirty and you licked it clean for me, he thought you were coming on to me.
I’m so sorry he gave you a black eye. I’d like to make it up to you. Please find enclosed with this note a $100 bill and a box of condoms. I’ll be at the motel out on Route 67 by the gas station at 10pm tonight.
Yours truly,
The Lady at Table 6
P.S. I hope regular-sized condoms are okay. I took you at your word when you referred to my husband as the bigger dick.
Some women deal with their break-ups by drinking wine, some surround themselves with friends and plot how they’re going to let the air out of their ex’s tires. Me, I’m celebrating with a giant bag of Doritos, a bottle of Coke, and a horror movie.
Jeremy was not a nice guy. He started out okay, as most guys do. Why else would I have dated him in the first place? But as time went on he started in with the digs about my weight. We’d be in bed and he’d squeeze my hips and say things like, “That must be the pizza we had tonight,” or “Have you been sneaking chocolate bars again?” I ignored it for the longest time. But eventually it wears on a gal.
Nope, I’m glad Jeremy’s gone. And now I can sit here with my Doritos and not have to deal with the insults. The fact that I burned off a load of calories burying his body in the back yard makes me feel all that much better.
Linda G. Hill 