54 - 4. carlos and nick

by bofa xesjum

the hard rain fell down on the dark deserted street. things were never easy for carlos chan abdul macgregor smith. he was born with a surplus of barely suppressed rage. and hated the whole human race, and many other creatures besides. his sort of best friend was nick 23 , an instigator. carlos wanted to be an instigator just like nick was. and stand in the street and in parks and shout. at all the people passing by who were complete idiots. the instigators mostly hung out all together in the park. and sometimes they wandered out into the busy city streets. nick 23 was assuredly the alpha dog of the instigators. carlos aspired to be just like him, some sweet day. what, you may well enquire, did the instigators instigate about? that is a good question, i am glad you asked. the instigators, generally speaking, did not actually call themselves instigators. they just felt disquiet in the depths of their beings. carlos chan abdul macgregor smith could not read or write. he wanted to make himself felt, and not be ignored. he picked up phrases from nick and other agitators. he shouted the phrases and waved his arms a lot. sometimes the police chased the instigators out of the park. not all that often - maybe once a month at most. one day the instigators were chased out - it was raining. but carlos never returned, not that day or any other. the only person who noticed was nick, strange to say. but he never mentioned it, not to anybody at all.

54 - 3. yolanda and robert

by bofa xesjum

olanda jones was preparing to prepare her famous eggplant salad. there was a knock on her door - how extremely surprising. this was indeed an exceptional event - virtually almost unheard of. there had been an upsurge of murders in the metropolis. yolanda did not pay very much attention to the news. in fact, she often expressed skepticism as to their truthfulness however, the reports of the murders had penetrated her consciousness. barely, but they did float on the top of her brain. yolanda reached under her apron and carefully extracted her phone. she hesitated - maybe it was just robert from next door. in the past, yolanda and robert had been fast friends. bit they had drifted imperceptibly apart over the receding years. except that they saw each other about every three months. just outside their doors or outside in the quiet street. yolanda and robert were both modern humans, count on. it. neither of them dreamed much any more, sad to say. but that was then, and now was the real thing. moments passed - the knock on the door was not repeated. i expect it was nothing, yolanda said to herself reassuringly. there is nobody there - i must have been imagining it. li should put more paprika in my famous eggplant salad. i should really try to understand things in general more. and not waste my mental energy on the media’s nonsense. nutmeg - more nutmeg - and maybe just a touch more oregano. the door burst open - and there stood robert the murderer! it as not quite how ylanda had expected everything to end.

54 - 2. mickey and the flowers

by bofa xesjum

quietly the night goes though its eternal cycle, mickey mused. the new king was asleep in his spartanly furnished room. it was mickey’s job to keep the king’s dreams safe. mickey had once been a dreamer himself, many years ago. outside in the darkness, the wolves began to yowl relentlessly. all holy hell threatened to break loose, and then what? but just then mickey fell asleep in a flowery meadow perhaps this is all for the best, he thought helplessly. every time he had a job to do, things happened. white clouds rolled by overhead in the way they had. a vision, mickey thought, what i need is a vision. but all he heard was laughter - and he woke up. was the king still asleep ? he wondered in a panic. hastily he got up and stealthily approached the bedroom door. slowly, slowly, he opened the door - the king was gone. truth be told, he had expected no other possible outcome. so this was the end - but was it after all? mickey ran through the night - and into the flowery meadow. the flowers clutched at his flying feet - no ,not again! the soft petals crawled up his legs , showing no mercy. under the grassy ground, the seeds were growing increasingly restless. they had seen and heard the footprints many times before. victory always seemed to be just tantalizingly out of reach . but the night and the stars always had their excuses. the joke was on mickey - he sank into the earth. the grass straightened up and put on its best face.

54 - 1. peter and harry

by bofa xesjum

peter the great was not an easy person to like. everybody in the town of ——— disliked him somewhat intensely. can you imagine what it must have sadly felt like? quietly remove your shoes before you enter the inner perimeter. harry houdini was peter’s best friend and most implacable enemy. the slow boat to china was almost ready to leave. just then lightning split the sky and thunder roared loudly. you guys will never understand, peter addressed the snappily dressed crowd. except for peter and harry, everybody in the crowd was drunk. many long years would pass before they met again. alas. all the same, the world did not change that much. the day was not marked when everything would suddenly erupt. king kong had been peter’s best friend as a child. despite their sincere protestations of eternal buddiness, they drifted apart. nothing succeeds like the implacable weariness of slowly falling raindrops. a billion raindrops add up to zero proclamations of wisdom. let us return to peter and harry and king kong. oh, all right, if you insist, george washington agreed reluctantly. the red sun dissappeared overr the horizon with shocking abruptness. but the slow boat to china, exasperatingly, had not materialized. china was a million miles away, even as a dream. and it was getting late - too late to turn back. suddenly peter exclaimed, i say, let us have a drink. never say die, harry rejoindered, with a somewhat crooked smile. under the circmustances, there was surely nothing else for it. the wine flowed freely, as you can very well iamgine.

albert and his friends

by rhoda penmarq

albert z wants to be free so he lives in a tree brad y rolls his eyes and looks up at the sky chuck x likes special effects and wonders what. comes next dave w does not know you and that is so true edna v drinks rose tea and dreads the coming calamity frank u says thank you to the ocean blue george t wants to know me and meet at quarter to three harriet s suffers from stress buut has no crimes to confess imogene r is a superstar and will certainly go far janet q has a dog named lou and a cat named boo kenneth p won a spelling bee when he was only three laura o, don’t you know goes with the flow mickey n, the kindest of men is doing twenty years in the pen nora m, a fatal fenmme has a fine collection of precious gems oliver l has something to sell but will never tell paula k plans to go away for the month of may quentin j likes to play his hair is turning gray roberta i never gets too low or high no one knows why stella h keeps a straight face with style and grace terry g, thoughtfully annotates poetry undine f, with a touch so deft is still around because she never left victor e wears patches on his knees and studies gestalt psychology wanda d, engagingly hikes the hills and swims in the sea xenia c was a mystery to all allured by her chemistry a yellow butterfly up high gives it the old college try zora a, to this very day always has a great deal to say

the clod and the cloud

by rhoda penmarq

a little clod of dirt sat in the sunshine. a cloud came along and hit the clod of dirt with a raindrop turning it into a flower thank you said the flower i like being a flower now i will return said the cloud with another raindrop to keep you a flower the flower waited and waited and waited but the cloud never returned and the flower died and the sky looked down at the dirt

slim jim 13

by rhoda penmarq

the eggplant was on the kitchen table, but the quinoa was in the undergrowth. the red dog was terrified in the quiet afternoon. youthful enthusiasm brought happiness to harold, but the dogs kept fighting. the lettuce was gone, to harriet’s horrified regret. as the clown devoured the sausage, many interesting things flashed through his mind. wait for it, professor walker cautioned. yes or no? it is only animal behavior. not on my watch, madame n———— asserted as she continued drying the powder. we need accuracy. it is no exaggeration to say that doctor x is a fancy pants, but maybe i was mistaken. they jumped for joy, back and forth, ordinary as they seemed. harold was sad that the day was over. he had not accomplished anything. and he had still not heard from lucy. could this be the end? out in the distance, a cab pulled into the driveway of the old house. a light went on in the attic. how much? two hundred and fifty dollars and forty-two cents. here. keep the change. thank you, sir. the old house looked the same, at least in the darkness. the cab backed down the driveway, and disappeared down the dirt road. forsyth banged on the old oak door with the brass knocker. the light went off in the attic. forsyth waited. i could use a drink, he mused. so could we all, old fellow.