danmurph321

danmurph321

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Never say Candy, she said. I don't want to hear that bitch's name. He stood half turned in the doorway to the kitchen, hands slipped into his pockets playing with the keys, cutting his cuticle open. There was a loaf of bread on the cutting board and the knife laid out from the block. He didn't move.

He didn't want to think about the feeling of the metal digging into the soft spot just above the ankle. Was it the tendons there? They kept showing it over and over on TV. They didn't have any sound but you could hear it through the second baseman's lips as they spread across his face in pain, the baserunner's eyes widening in horror hitting a spot he didn't really want to.

He looked at it through the window while pouring the pad thai noodles into the strainer. The hot water seeped over the sink and onto his bare feet. Hopping around he scrambled out the door and took out his phone. He could see it slowly strutting away. It waddled. He took a picture and the turtle looked back at him. Not the lens. But him.

What happened, I venture to guess, is that a certain tree in between the power lines of his house and mine "fell" down. It would have been pretty costly on him to do it intentionally just to run his generator for a week. I'm not doubting his foul play but something doesn't add up.

prank

She didn't really know too much about it. But Sally Jackerbsen knew a lot about the football uniforms, the new ones, that she helped pick out. However that was nothing, she said, compared to the cheer squad uniforms that were going to shut everyone over at Mount Holly up. Combined the whole stadium would be a sea of purple and yellow, dazzling audiences on Friday nights. We didn't have many questions for her. She didn't want the prank to delay the pep rally.

Just go on for a minute now. Huddle up with your brother by that tree. Bring Petey. Hold his collar so he doesn't budge. I'll be back one minute. Just stay there. Cover your ears. The shot will be a little loud. Don't be frightened.

fleet

His mother and sister kept trying to speak to him. He could hear their voices but the thunder from afar was just too loud. He could see them all in the distant racing towards him. They rode on horse back and swung their maces, swords and axes round and round, closing in on him. There were just too many. He collapsed in the kitchen still looking out ahead where he could see them. His mother picked up her little boy and carried him off to bed.

In Boston I would walk through the crosswalks behind Jenny's and wait for people to linger on the corner. The next few streets had the most activity. There were seven bars and the Pentington Hotel. I kept walking back and forth across the walkways and kept my eyes on the theirs, just to see if they were watching. Cars didn't stop. But people should. Either they're aware or not. I only stop the dangerous drivers. You can see their eyes meet yours and the expression on their face. I prefer no uniform. They react in different ways but the ones that see you still know.

All along the watchtower...

You are like that too. Don't kid yourself. The way there's that hint of brown in your hair. Look at you smiling like that. That's what they all like. You know you have it. Keep smiling. You're still young.

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writing since 2011 · 125 entries · 124 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means DMM showed up.

11longest streak

124days written

0.7entries / week

on this day 15 years ago

DMM wrote about iron
“He bought wrinkle-free bed sheets because he didn't know how to iron. They were black and made him look like the kind of man he didn't yet know he didn't want to be.”

the words DMM reaches for

lookingnowwaitinghandsleastfacehaireyeskneesmotheroneshalfstopalreadybringsecond