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This week's prompt
Swollen Bunny
"I am either going out for ice cream, or to commit a heinous crime. I'll decide in the car." It was late, maybe too late for ice cream. Yet my stomach grumbled aching calling out for that sweetness of the cold rich smooth taste of that ice cream I had in mind. I sat for awhile pondering it, no down right craving it. Now as I felt my hands slightly shaking while telling myself no, I thought once again as every time that this temptation hits asking myself am i really addicted or do i have control? When was the last time i felt that high... sixteen hours ago? twelve hours? no it was only nine hours ago underneath that underpass. I have a problem i thought to myself then No don't admit it you love this stuff, fighting with myself in my head. It's best that i don't try to quit this habit you know how bad those people are that try to quit. I laugh to myself I'm not a quitter. I sank my hand deep into my jacket pocket and let my fingers run against the firm edges of the card in my pocket. It was my dealers number a simple little black business card with only a lime green phone number on it. I tried to recall how long I've had this card must have been a couple years ago that i found him. You see the cops shot my last dealer saw it on the news after frantically trying to get a hold of him. That was the longest couple days that i ever went without. The TV flashed and caught my attention, It was another news story another subject caught with a cone. Thoughts raced through my head what wouldn't I give for a lick of that cone! Back to the TV i watched as several police officers furiously beat him with nightsticks while he was already on the ground, for a moment I thought this could be me but then I seen that poor vanilla twist cone laying on the ground WASTED. Immediately i felt the anger pulse through my veins, I can't watch this! I turned off the TV and headed towards the basement. I walked down into the dark waving a couple spider webs out of the way. As I came to the bottom i pulled the little string attached to the light which dimly lit the basement. I walked over to the deep freeze and opened it up. Reaching down into the bottom i pulled out a couple ice packs and snapped them into my cooler. That’s it I've made up my mind I'm going out to restock. Walking up the stairs I grabbed my jacket and peeked out the side door to make sure no one was around. Everyone gets suspicious at the sight of a cooler. My neighbors don't suspect anything yet I plan to keep it that way. I quickly make my way to the truck and throw a blanket over the cooler. I'm forgetting something i think to myself. Then it hits me I need to feed that stupid dog. I jumped out of the truck and opened the garage door. Soon as the door starts to open i hear that little Maltese yipping at the back of the garage in the cage. Working quickly I changed the water bowl out and dump some dog food into the bowl. Now i can feel the rush hitting me thinking about my next score. Walking out of the garage I grab my phone and call the number on my card in my pocket. After a couple rings I hear the man on the other end answer he simply says how much? Without missing a beat I tell him a gallon, he quickly snaps back and warns of the penalty of having that much Ice cream on a man, I assure him that it doesn't phase me and he agrees to meet me out at the lake in about thirty minutes. I quickly hang up the phone and start to get excited. I feel myself craving it more as my blood pumps through my body faster and faster. I throw my truck in reverse and leave my old worn house. I pulled onto the highway keeping an eye on my rear view mirror. Its funny how every car looks like a cop at night when you're trying to find them before they find you. As I pull onto the gravel road I see a cop sitting at the corner store and my heartbeat picks up a little, I calm myself as I see he is just sitting there watching cars. I feel my palms start to sweat the closer that i get to the lake. I turn my headlights off and pull up next to the creepy old fishing shack. I park the truck but leave it running, as i get out I pull my cooler from under the blanket and reach into my center console and grab three hundred dollars for my gallon of vanilla. I think to myself this is worth it! I slowly walk alongside the old shack and see the rear end of my dealers Cadillac sticking out from around the corner of the shack. I turn the corner and my heart races out of my chest. I feel a lump in my throat as I see a cops back facing me standing over the dead body of my dealer gun still drawn! I hear his radio crackle as I stand in shock frozen, I should run but I can't. I see the cooler sitting on the ground next to his still warm body. Then the cop turns around! I'm still frozen then I recognize him, I know this man. I calmly keep eye contact and then slowly proceed forward. I wrap my fingers around the cooler and walk backwards towards my truck never breaking eye contact as the officer follows me around the corner. I get into my pickup and drive away. Will he follow I ask myself staring into my rear view mirror. The more distance i put between myself and him the better i feel. I pass the intersection my heart still racing where the cop car was still sitting. He doesn't even see me. I pull into my drive and throw my truck into park. I open up the dead dealers cooler and find four gallons of ice cream. JACKPOT i think to myself. I quickly scoop out a cone and let the Maltese out of the garage. I sink into my chair and the Maltese jumps onto my lap. I let him take a couple licks of my ice cream then he curls up into my lap. Finally I think to myself as my nerves start to settle and I start to feel that high again. I'm glad that worked so well, but then again that officer knows what i would have done to his stupid little Maltese if he would have tried anything. I laugh and take another hit of ice cream. |
Gat Grace
Clicking the foot pedal of the keyboard she practiced. It wasn’t just anyone that got to provide intermission for the 10 o’clock bingo on Saturdays and since Bea had gone to Wyoming for the summer, Marcy was the new pianist.
A knock came to the door, halting her music. With a groan she pushed up from the piano bench, rattling her dentures back into place.On the front stoop stood Eddie. The neighbor boy from two houses down. “Umm..Hello Mrs. Catwalker,” he rocked from his heels to his toes, “would you like me to mow your lawn?” Marcy sneered down at the round child, “never start a sentence with um, it makes you sound stupid.” She shuffled back into the house toward the kitchen, hollering over her shoulder, “and it is not cat walker! It’s Cadwalter, CADWALTER!” Eddie’s finger was buried in his nose. His voice coming nasally, “yes, Mrs. Catwalker.” Marcy roller her eyes, the cookie jar lid shaped like a lemon clicked as she opened it. Looking into loose change and three one dollar bills. “Uh!” she put the lid back and gripped the edge of the table. “How ‘bout this Eddie my boy, you mow my lawn and I will take you for ice cream.” Taking the finger out of his mouth his smile growing, giving a wide eyed nod. “Alright, do a good job. Nothing like last time. I better not find any begonias cut to ribbons in the grass!” yelling at him, Eddie already outside. Shutting the door Marcy returned to her bench, adjusting the switches on the keyboard to sound more like a church organ. Abigail chirping in her cage. “Oh sweet pigeon,” Marcy crooned to the canary. “How about I play you a song, love?” the tiny yellow black bird hopping from perch to perch. “I thought you would like that.” the piano loud and boisterous. Forgetting the time Marcy played and played, swaying with the tune she caught sight of the clock. “9:15!” she gasped. Bingo started at 10. Rushing to the bedroom with uneven steps, pulling free the blouse and retrieving the purple floral dress from ‘Pennies. A steady whirl coming from the window. Buttoning the collar of the dress she cracked the blinds. Spying Eddie push the mower along the fence. “ugh,” she had forgotten about Eddie. Snickering she produced a plan. Tugging the cord the blinds clicked together rising high. Marcy hoisted the window open. “I’m leaving! If you’re not done mowing and in the car, there will be no ice cream!” Understanding written on his face the boy putting determination in his back and picking up speed. Smiling she chuckled to herself adorning her neck with a string of pearls. Outside the mower made a terrible sound. Gurgling down some thick vegetation. Leaning from the open window Marcy watched Eddie push the mower over the scalloped plastic fence that guarded her french lace roses. Her begonia petals strewn behind him. her glasses fell from her face hanging by their beaded string. Drawing her chin back into her neck, she growled “now see here!” Eddie not hearing over the racket of the mower continuing on around the border of the house to the opposite side of the yard. Shuffling over the crocheted rug of the hall she pushed Abigail out of the middle of the window and opened it. The boy circling the pear tree sapling in the middle of the grass. “Eddie!” Marcy flailed her arm to get his attention, the boy looking up, running over the decorative rocks protecting the tree’s roots. A stone shooting up through the window and knocking the gilded cage into the room. Startled Marcy cried out, the bird laying still against the bars. “Abigail?!” Marcy bent with shaky hands to open the cage rocking it as she did. Grasping the tiny clasp she let the gate open a knock coming at the door. Giving the briefest look up a fluttery sound flew past Marcy turning around just in time to see her beloved bird fly out the open window. “Oh, pigeon,” she stretched out her hand, “come back!” She stood for just a moment in shock before going to the door finding Clid Olsen. “‘morning Marcy,” holding a package out to her, shreds of gray like snow where Eddie had run over the morning paper behind the delivery man. Tipping his hat the man returned to his van. Sputtering the mower stopped. A wide grin adorned on the young boy's face he marched proudly toward the house. Glancing back the clock read 9:30. Fine. Marcy smacked her lips, running her lips across her gums. “you ripped up my yard!” The boy shrugged his chubby hands, “I don’t do edges very well.” “Don’t do edges very well?! That’s like saying Louis Armstrong sings soprano son.” Grasping her purse from the hook and slamming the door behind her Marcy led the way to her Buick. She could feel her head sunk into her shoulders. Murmuring she growled to herself, "we are either going out for ice cream, or I’m going to do away with you child,” climbing behind the seat she pondered what to do with the young boy. The ice cream stand was only three blocks down, it would only take a moment to step in pay for the little snots ice cream. Then he could walk himself home and on she could go to bingo. Humming Eddie irritated her further, Marcy’s left eye twitching. “Mrs. Catwalker? Is it ok if I get two scoops.” “No.” “Why?” She looked away from the road,“when you quit nicking my begonias you can have two scoops!” Looking back a large van was stopped at the light in front of her. Marcy having to slam on the breaks to keep from running into the back of it. Jarring her purse from the seat and the dentures from her mouth. Gasping she laid a hand over her chin, glancing around for the teeth. “I’ve got them Mrs. Catwalker!” Eddie using his foot to drag them from the floor mat holding the set out to her. Laying in his open palm her dentures sat three teeth missing from the front. “How can I go to bingo missing three teeth?!” The car behind them honked, the light now green. Snarling Marcy thought to drive the car into the lake, just past the next intersection. The blue ice cream shop visible from where they stopped at the four way. Eddie grasped on to the seat, “um, we just passed the ice cream shop.” “Don’t start your sentences with um Eddie,” pulling up the entry of the park. Sitting for a moment at the edge of the dock, the sound of paper ripping in the seat next to her. “Eddie. Leave that be!” Snapping the package that Clid had delivered from him, the yellow envelope half gone. From the top peeked a picture in a frame. Faded and worn the picture barely deserved to be in the silver frame. A post it note stuck to the glass. “Love you mom.” Between her younger self and her husband stood her three boys young and grinning. The middle one with his finger sunk in his nose to the first knuckle. “Ha,” Marcy groaned missing the days passed listening to the door open. “Get back in the car!” Eddie climbing back inside his hands cupped, sitting there quiet as she turned the car back out on to the road. “What do you have there?” A little yellow head peeking from the edge of his hand. “A bird.” The canary breaking free and fluttering around the car. “Oh Abigail!” Marcy watching the small thing bounce from perch to perch. “You know Eddie,” “Yes, Mrs. Catwalker?” “I think you can have two scoops today, maybe I will too." "I thought you had bingo." She glared, "I missing three teeth! Besides. There is always next Saturday." |
CONGRATULATIONS TO JOHN DAVID TO WINNING THE
JANUARY 7TH COMPETITION!!
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JANUARY 7TH COMPETITION!!
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