mrcheese113
"Oh crap! Oh crap of crap oh crap!" I exclaimed, standing in the front of my friend's SUV, hopping in circles around the abomination that lay before us...a roadkill swan. My friend, Roger, had just run over a swan, and now we had to pay. Swan were incredibly rare and endangered, and if anyone of authority found out, (yes, Game and Fish Department have authority), we were as dead as the swan, so to speak.
Great. $200 sunglasses that were gifted to me by my rich uncle, and now there was a deep-cut scratch right across the front of the left lens. "It doesn't seem to be THAT noticeable," said Archie. The Hell it wasn't! It sat directly in front of my pupil and blurred my vision. The next thing I knew, I'd need some REAL $200 glasses for the focus to my eye it would wrought.
His heartache was too large to describe...once his homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwich had fallen into the gutter. For you see, he made that sandwich on his own, and it was the number one thing that he looked forward to that day: to eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was of God's work.
Drifting through space. Not as scary as some people would think, once you get past the whole, "I'm never going to be found again" thing. It's really peaceful out here, if not a little chilly, but I really don't mind. I lived a good life and accomplished many things. Hell, I even got to see Earth from a distance, which I can continue to look at until I die.
An afternoon brunch with Mrs. McLaughlin, the old 96 year-old lady down the street. As she sipped her Earl Grey tea, she relished the moment, as she knew that she was due to be gone anyway. It was the least that I could do for her, and she appreciated the company of the rowdy, neighborhood boy.
Jim Avery, the fireman, doused the cooking pan in lighter fluid and tossed in a match, the red flames roaring into the air and touching the ceiling of the classroom. Time to teach the kids in home economics on how to properly use a fire extinguisher. Except there was something missing...the fire extinguisher itself. He left his back at the station and the classroom didn't have one.
He took aim at the target, the crosshaires resting on the top of his head. The target, a wealthy land owner, coughed into his hankerchief, sick and cold in the rain. But the sniper took no notice of it. He was too professional to let his feelings and thoughts of others get in the way of his work.
The beast roared as it trampled through the town, billowing blue flames from its open mouth, scourging the rooftops of the wooden buildings. Standing at 500 feet, the gigantic lizard marched on, stomping on the establishments and the townsfolk carelessly, if not ignorantly.
The finish line was so close, Roger could taste it...or that was just the sweat dripping off of his forehead. He was the last one there, but it was definitely going to be the most accomplishing thing he had ever done, only having gotten up off of the couch a month before. He was no Olympian or athlete, but it was better than being remembered as a fat lump.
Basket weaving. John's least favorite subject, but he needed the credit. His fingers were like sausages, constantly getting stuck between the reeds and scraping against the straw, which would cringe and break. Sometimes he wished that he could just throw the half-finished basket at the wall.
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writing since 2012 · 12 entries · 12 days shown up
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