Months of inactivity. I guess quitting my job to pursue my dreams wasn’t the most practical career move. I wonder how my Mom would respond to a friendly phone call that just happens to include a desperate plea for cash. If traffic to my website doesn’t spike, as in, go Charlie Bit My Finger viral, I’ll never payoff my staggering student loans…
“Whatever you do,” advised Mr. Culotte, a faint whisper underneath the thunder of the music. The bass threatened to level the building. “Don’t take or drink anything they offer.”
“Why not?” asked Keira.
“Because,” Mr. Culotte looked around. His face was green in the neon light. It didn’t hide the fear. “Everything here is spiked, I’m sure, and I can’t protect us here. Not completely. Not the both of us.”
Spiked…hmm…the first thing I think about is..the alcohol added to a drink…or perhaps jewelry that mostly the emo-goth folks wear. Nevertheless, spiked is another form of added a sense of mystery or impact to an agent or content..
The drink was spiked; she knew this. She laughed and drank it anyway. The music of the club and the ecstasy filled her as if she were a sieve. The others, like marionettes, whirled and danced to the rhythm of the beat.
She thought he was handsome and so attentive. Then next thing she thought was about the location of her clothing, the pain in her head, the wetness between her legs. Perhaps her drink had been spiked!?
He hopped nimbly over the spikes poking up out of the earth at jagged, uneven angles. I was more uncertain, hesitating a few minutes before carefully stepping around the knife-like stones.
He paused in his mad scramble to glare at me. “Feeling comfortable, twinkletoes?” he said, slightly out of breath. “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t really the time.”
“The time to make sure I don’t get impaled?” I said under my breath.
I can’t believe I let him get near my drink. It took him two seconds and now I’ve been here for 30 minutes while he got to feel me up. I’m not fully conscious.
Dean A. Leach
A boy walked down the alley way. Very preoccupied with his one two feet. He ran his hand through is hair absent mindedly until he felt the hair gel and remembered he’d spiked it that morning. A sheepish look crossing his face as he withdrew his hand. He was lost. Not in the city. He knew the area. He was lost in life.
The world was spiked and filled with fear. We could fix the the world if people weren’t afraid.
Jarrett
i spiked his hair and decided that it looked so much better than it did when it was down and flat. it is not difficult to spike, with a little product and seemed easier than you woulds assume. it makes for a different style and looks creative.
amanda nelson
tail dinosaur hair teeth tools
amanda nelson
Several sharp points working together to hide that one thing they don’t want you to have the most. Like the hair on that girl in highschool you always wanted to get to know but didn’t. Like the fists of a young thug. Like the words of a politician sent to barb you with complacency.
Maya
“SPIKE THE BALL!’ i groaned “NO I QUIT VOLLYBALL” i screamed in my head but i culd never actually say it.
Alexis
I’m so sorry darling, but it’s only fair of me to tell you now that when you were at the bar in another girl’s mouth I borrowed your cup and spiked it with pure love and a legal form of ecstasy. I love how you don’t believe I was there that night, how you think I don’t know how many other’s I would have to fight just to have a moment of your time; but maybe this will show you I was. Because you started making a mess all over her pretty red dress and her perfectly polished nails went down your back and up your shirt only to see the scratches I left and pushing you onto the dusty floor and off of her petite little lap. Then when you woke up again the bar was your bed and a bottle of tequila was in your hands in that way you swear you’ve only ever held me.
But baby, I know what kinda games you play and I can play you right back.
She leans in and smiles a shark’s smile, Barbie pink lips coming up, gums first, then all teeth.
“You’ve seen more of the world than I have,” she says grinning. “And so what? 12 year old have seen more of the world than me.”
She snaps up a cherry in her jaws.
“That’s not something that comes with age. That’s something you’ve either done or you haven’t. I mean, there are kids who have seen blood spraying and body parts.”
Grinning, with her spiked teeth coming together in perfect symmetry, she laughs.
my brother spiked his hair for school picture day when he got to school so mom would not know. when she got the picture she grounded him so he got in a lot of trouble but i just sat there and laughed because it was so funny to watch him get his phone taken away and his tv unpluged and taken out of his room and guess what…i got his gigantic stand up flatscreen tv. hahaha
I watched the colors drift in and out,
I watched the droplets bundle through
the window panes,
I couldn’t see what was happening.
I couldn’t sense you, nor did I
have the power to say No.
As always, my love.
I was spiked.
Spiked by you.
His mouth was hot and wrong. He sucked and licked, his teeth scraping and nibbling on her neck. She arched her back for more and didn’t even notice the cold metal tips of his spiked leather jacket had already left marks.
With only seconds left to the volleyball game and only a point behind Sally ,who was up front, was ready to do whatever it takes to win State Championships. The ball was coming her way, before she could think Sally spiked the ball down to the other teams side and won the game.
Liberty Brouillette
Spoked, like the wheels, spooked, like the horse, spiked, like his hair, way back then, ’97, you know? That’s the way it was. Things just were that way, left and right, rise and set, ebb and flow, hair and spikes. He wasn’t much, but at least he was dependable.
There on a lazy Sunday afternoon, in shafts of hazy light, they lay in bed peacefully. She’d dozed off again. He brushed fingers over her throat to smooth her hair back, which then led him to sweep across the dip in her collar bone, past her shoulder, down her ribs, before settling on her hip. The softness there was supple and his touch gentle, but his eyes focused on the indents upon her skin.
My foot, SPIKED! I’m not sure how this could happen. Did I black out on the rails? Where is everyone?!? Is that the train?!? Oh, oh, oh, oh. How could this happen?
Months of inactivity. I guess quitting my job to pursue my dreams wasn’t the most practical career move. I wonder how my Mom would respond to a friendly phone call that just happens to include a desperate plea for cash. If traffic to my website doesn’t spike, as in, go Charlie Bit My Finger viral, I’ll never payoff my staggering student loans…
“Whatever you do,” advised Mr. Culotte, a faint whisper underneath the thunder of the music. The bass threatened to level the building. “Don’t take or drink anything they offer.”
“Why not?” asked Keira.
“Because,” Mr. Culotte looked around. His face was green in the neon light. It didn’t hide the fear. “Everything here is spiked, I’m sure, and I can’t protect us here. Not completely. Not the both of us.”
Spiked…hmm…the first thing I think about is..the alcohol added to a drink…or perhaps jewelry that mostly the emo-goth folks wear. Nevertheless, spiked is another form of added a sense of mystery or impact to an agent or content..
The drink was spiked; she knew this. She laughed and drank it anyway. The music of the club and the ecstasy filled her as if she were a sieve. The others, like marionettes, whirled and danced to the rhythm of the beat.
She thought he was handsome and so attentive. Then next thing she thought was about the location of her clothing, the pain in her head, the wetness between her legs. Perhaps her drink had been spiked!?
He hopped nimbly over the spikes poking up out of the earth at jagged, uneven angles. I was more uncertain, hesitating a few minutes before carefully stepping around the knife-like stones.
He paused in his mad scramble to glare at me. “Feeling comfortable, twinkletoes?” he said, slightly out of breath. “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t really the time.”
“The time to make sure I don’t get impaled?” I said under my breath.
I can’t believe I let him get near my drink. It took him two seconds and now I’ve been here for 30 minutes while he got to feel me up. I’m not fully conscious.
A boy walked down the alley way. Very preoccupied with his one two feet. He ran his hand through is hair absent mindedly until he felt the hair gel and remembered he’d spiked it that morning. A sheepish look crossing his face as he withdrew his hand. He was lost. Not in the city. He knew the area. He was lost in life.
The world was spiked and filled with fear. We could fix the the world if people weren’t afraid.
i spiked his hair and decided that it looked so much better than it did when it was down and flat. it is not difficult to spike, with a little product and seemed easier than you woulds assume. it makes for a different style and looks creative.
tail dinosaur hair teeth tools
Several sharp points working together to hide that one thing they don’t want you to have the most. Like the hair on that girl in highschool you always wanted to get to know but didn’t. Like the fists of a young thug. Like the words of a politician sent to barb you with complacency.
“SPIKE THE BALL!’ i groaned “NO I QUIT VOLLYBALL” i screamed in my head but i culd never actually say it.
I’m so sorry darling, but it’s only fair of me to tell you now that when you were at the bar in another girl’s mouth I borrowed your cup and spiked it with pure love and a legal form of ecstasy. I love how you don’t believe I was there that night, how you think I don’t know how many other’s I would have to fight just to have a moment of your time; but maybe this will show you I was. Because you started making a mess all over her pretty red dress and her perfectly polished nails went down your back and up your shirt only to see the scratches I left and pushing you onto the dusty floor and off of her petite little lap. Then when you woke up again the bar was your bed and a bottle of tequila was in your hands in that way you swear you’ve only ever held me.
But baby, I know what kinda games you play and I can play you right back.
She leans in and smiles a shark’s smile, Barbie pink lips coming up, gums first, then all teeth.
“You’ve seen more of the world than I have,” she says grinning. “And so what? 12 year old have seen more of the world than me.”
She snaps up a cherry in her jaws.
“That’s not something that comes with age. That’s something you’ve either done or you haven’t. I mean, there are kids who have seen blood spraying and body parts.”
Grinning, with her spiked teeth coming together in perfect symmetry, she laughs.
“You know what I like? A good fight.”
my brother spiked his hair for school picture day when he got to school so mom would not know. when she got the picture she grounded him so he got in a lot of trouble but i just sat there and laughed because it was so funny to watch him get his phone taken away and his tv unpluged and taken out of his room and guess what…i got his gigantic stand up flatscreen tv. hahaha
I watched the colors drift in and out,
I watched the droplets bundle through
the window panes,
I couldn’t see what was happening.
I couldn’t sense you, nor did I
have the power to say No.
As always, my love.
I was spiked.
Spiked by you.
As her back was turned from the punch bowl her boy friend took her cup and spiked her drink. His eyes were sparkling with mischief.
His mouth was hot and wrong. He sucked and licked, his teeth scraping and nibbling on her neck. She arched her back for more and didn’t even notice the cold metal tips of his spiked leather jacket had already left marks.
With only seconds left to the volleyball game and only a point behind Sally ,who was up front, was ready to do whatever it takes to win State Championships. The ball was coming her way, before she could think Sally spiked the ball down to the other teams side and won the game.
Spoked, like the wheels, spooked, like the horse, spiked, like his hair, way back then, ’97, you know? That’s the way it was. Things just were that way, left and right, rise and set, ebb and flow, hair and spikes. He wasn’t much, but at least he was dependable.
There on a lazy Sunday afternoon, in shafts of hazy light, they lay in bed peacefully. She’d dozed off again. He brushed fingers over her throat to smooth her hair back, which then led him to sweep across the dip in her collar bone, past her shoulder, down her ribs, before settling on her hip. The softness there was supple and his touch gentle, but his eyes focused on the indents upon her skin.
My foot, SPIKED! I’m not sure how this could happen. Did I black out on the rails? Where is everyone?!? Is that the train?!? Oh, oh, oh, oh. How could this happen?