Jane liked yogourt.
Jake liked pudding.
They had little spats about which one was better pretty frequently. Mother told them they shouldn’t spit, though, so they started having tiffs, instead. Mother told them tiffs were an outdated file format, though, so they started bickering instead. Mom said that was ok.
She took some pills that were supposed to Improve Her Quality of Life.
They didn’t.
She brought them back to the pharmacy. The pharmacist took the bottle, said, “Your loss,” and swallowed the rest of the pills.
It didn’t work for the pharmacist either.
They sued the manufacturer. That worked.
“I’m insane,” declared Carmen.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said her doctor bemusedly.
“I insist,” said Carmen. “I’m one-hundred percent crazy.”
“Are you hoping to get a prescription of some sort?”
“What, like a cheeseburger or something?”
“Ah, I see,” said the doctor. “You aren’t insane; you’re hungry.”
“Right. That.”
Dad and Junior built a kite together. It was a great kite: tough, resilient, sturdy, high-flying, easy to handle, resourceful, loyal, hard-working, unselfish, sensitive, kind, even-handed, quick on its feet, pleasant, honest, stoic, self-aware, intelligent, shrewd, heavily armed, delicious, not-from-concentrate, and mostly harmless.
It was a metaphor for their relationship.
It wasn’t so much the ghastly smile that turned my stomach as the whiskey vapors souring the air in the filthy bedroom.
His eyes were locked in a vacant stare.
What did he see?
“Can we move the body, Detective?”
Eyes riveted to his, I stepped aside as death triumphed.
Cyndi Pauwels writes suspense novels, short stories and essays. Now if only she could sell something…
http://cpatlarge.blogspot.com/
“Stop biting your nails!” said Mom.
“Sorry,” mumbled Jackson.
“You’re still doing it!” said Mom.
“Whoops,” mumbled Jackson.
“Honestly, child, you’re hopeless! Am I going to have to take your nails away and put them back in the cupboard?” said Mom. “They’re for hammering, not chewing! You’ll break your teeth!”
Jakob had an idea. It was a stupendous idea, a marvelous idea, a fabulous idea.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember what it was.
He asked his garbage man. He asked his barber. He asked a woman at the grocery store. They couldn’t remember, either.
Jakob’s dog knew, but she wasn’t telling.
There were monkeys on the roof of the Johnsons’ house.
No one in the neighbourhood knew how they’d gotten there, and the Johnsons weren’t responding to complaints, even though the neighbours, quite helpfully, sometimes left big red barrels on their lawn.
In the Johnsons’ basement, the Transmogrifier hummed and buzzed.
Dear Mister Mayor,
I wish that you would make it a holiday on every day. It would be a Great Idea.
Sincerely,
Timmy
***
Dear Timmy,
You’re right! Why didn’t I think of that? You’re a genius! I submitted the legislation this afternoon and it went into effect immediately.
Sincerely,
The Mayor
Mouse hid in the dark corner. The piece of bread laying on the floor looked like a complete meal to the starving mammal.
Fear set aside, ready to jump into the world feet first, he blindly took his chance.
Cat had its dinner, slurping the tail like a spaghetti noodle.
Sabrina Hicks has a passion for writing and animal rights. Besides writing she donates time at animal shelters and now owns three dogs, one cat, and a bird.