When I submit a customer service request online, I’m told to prove I’m not a robot.
To do this I have to look at nine images and pick the ones with cars or trees or traffic lights. I always need a few tries.
I’m sure a robot could do better.
Barbara Mende lives in Massachusetts, where she fends off retirement by working as an editor, bookkeeper, and webmaster.
He orders for his wife. The waitress scribbles something on his napkin, slipping it under his whiskey glass.
His wife returns, applies lipstick.
“Not at dinner, dear,” he says.
His wife sips his whiskey and wipes her mouth with his napkin, smearing the phone number with her Revlon 43 lips.
Deanna Morris is a MFA graduate of Butler University (2013) with publishing credits for poetry, short stories, interviews, and freelance articles. Her work can be found in First Stop Fiction, Subtle Fiction, Clever Magazine, Scissors, and Spackle, among other places.
Anna was once again berating the office printer. Her list of irritations was well into double figures by 11 AM. The printer finally kicked out the presentation and Anna went back to her claustrophobic cubical.
The printer sighed. “No ‘thank you’ again. Maybe tomorrow I just won’t turn on at all!”
Amy who lives in a black hole training to be an apple, but it’s all coming out pear shaped. Luckily she has her helper dog, Ellie, to munch on the worms. Read her blog at www.Blind-Style.com.
People were lined up, waiting for a table, standing too close to her chair. She was almost touching the butt of a heavy-set, bleached blond, overweight woman who was describing her “last” trip to Paris in excruciating detail.
She quickly downed her glass of red wine, stood up, and left.
Bobbi Lurie is the author of three poetry collections: The Book I Never Read, Letter from the Lawn and Grief Suite.