sboe
It was official, he was in love. He would do anything to be near her, to make her happy. Even if meant sacrificing his own wants. Once she asked him to help paint her apartment. He spent three days mulling over colors, hauling cans up the steps to her 3rd floor walkup, and rolling three coats of the perfect shade of butterscotch on her walls. He was rewarded with time and hope. Time spent in her presence, which he craved, and hope that someday soon she would realize that what she wanted had been right in front of her all along. Such is life int he friend zone.
Another milestone, another photo op to be placed in the album chronicling the story of our life. Memories frozen in time? More like reminders of of how much things have changed, or, perhaps, how much they haven't changed. I guess it depends on what lens you look through.
"Shut your trap!" the man in the black mask yelled pointing his double barrelled shotgun at the teller to emphasize he was serious.
He turned and surveyed the rest of his hostages as they lie prone on the floor covering their heads and silently making promises to a higher power that if they survived today they would immediately set their lives on a path of righteousness.
"The next person to speak is leaving in a body bag."
After months of preparation, his first bank robbery was going according to plan. At least it was, until he hear the howl of sirens coming down the street. Someone must have tripped a silent alarm. His gaze shot back to the teller, then to the bank manager. He knew this might happen and he was prepared to do what was necessary to maintain his control of the situation. Someone's prayers were not going to be answered today.
"Trying to make a statement?" he asked as his 15-year-old daughter entered the room clad in all black, a Misfits t-shirt, heavy makeup that paled her complexion, studded dog collar, and long mousy-brown hair hanging in such a way as to cover half her face.
"Whatever, Dad. You don't get it," she snarked full of contempt for the man who obviously never knew what it was like to challenge conventionality.
He did get it, though. And as he remembered 30 years ago he was having the same conversation with his father who often remarked he needed to cut that shaggy hair, he smiled to himself, taking solace in the fact that someday in the future she too will be seen as an agent of the establishment in her own child's eyes.
smack. Smack. SMACK. He'd had enough. He calmly rose from his desk, exited his cubicle, entered his neighbors, lifted his hand, and did what everyone else in the office has dreamed about since Mr. Loud Gum Chewer joined the team - delivered a hard and fast open-handed smack of his own to the back of the offender's head. It will surely mean a meeting with HR, but as he sat back down in his ergonomically adjusted office chair he knew it was worth it.
The beeps from the sonar were the only sounds as the crewmen stared motionless at the screen in front of them. Intelligence reports warned of the enemy's presence in the area, but so far all the high tech gadgetry they rely on to keep them one step ahead of the game had been unable to locate the rogue submarine.
writing since 2012 · 9 entries · 9 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Sboe showed up.
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9days written
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the words Sboe reaches for
smackbucketcuthalfjobpowersuggestionopenpresenceenteredofficeblackhairsomedaytellerfloor