Go ahead, turn my heart into a steak. It’s kind of old, and it is dysfunctional. It doesn’t want to be a heart any more. You may as well eat it. Better use for it.
“Rare” she ordered, picking up a wine glass in the palm of her hand and sipping her Chardonnay. Obviously an amateur trying to look fancier than she appeared. She batted eyes that were poorly lathered with eye liner, she ‘coyly’ adjusted her somehow ever falling nylons that just couldn’t seem to stay put on her thighs, and she placed her glass down far enough across the table to let her hand invitingly rest near his.
“Now, tell me, your mother had such wonderful things to say about you, what did she tell you about me Erik?” As he debated recalling his mother’s desperate pleas of ‘She’s not that bad’ or his favorite ‘Just don’t look at her fake tits’ he couldn’t help but smile. It was 8:07pm, he’d already been on this horrid date well past his usual time allotted to this triviality, and she had yet to drop a common line like ‘Our families really do get along well’.
Even so, he adjusted his tie again and started.
“She said you had a sense of humor I would enjoy, and that you knew your way around a dart board.” She faltered, ignorable brown eyes widening since this was not what a lady in waiting should be known for.
“Oh my, what a charmer I must sound like! But really, I wouldn’t go anywhere near a dart board anymore, I much more care for my poetry now.” She tried to recover the slip of humanity with a dainty hand laying across her doctor approved chest.
“Ah yes poetry,” he said honestly, pulling away from the table and pushing it back in while grabbing his coat from a near by hook. “My boyfriend also enjoys poetry, but he’s begun reading more Tolstoy lately. Maybe you’ll meet him soon, you can discuss your literary background.”
She had the flicker of annoyance pass through her brows, but they stayed in place with the same look of shock and a devilish conviction only found in those in he midst of an act. The waiter came by the table and placed her food down, wafting with heat and a delicious aroma that made even his stomach grumble. Before the gentleman, he placed a take out bag and a slip of paper. The man signed it quickly and finished placing his coat around his shoulders as the waiter departed.
The woman looked none the darling wilting rose as she had when she first walked into the five star restaurant, no not a trace of the comfortable vixen remained.
“You fag, you’ve turned down every girl from our family, even fucking Melinda who’s a dyke herself! You’re gonna hear from my father, you’re gonna be the reason our families go broke!” As she shouted he calmly placed the take out under his arm, and with the other hand swiped a finger through her garlic herb potatoes.
“Mmm… Harold, your brother is doing a great job with the food!” he shouted to a nearby table, the man smiling back at him. “And Amanda, my guy is going to need your services tomorrow, I think he pulled his tricep when we went to the gym and you KNOW he won’t listen to me.” He said, getting a chuckle and a light hearted reply from a woman near the back of the room.
The woman across the table from him looked uglier as the room got smaller and smaller, filled with people who were not on her side.
“You hold white wines by the stem sweetie, red wines in your palm. Enjoy your dinner, my family IS paying for it after all.”
The butcher always had the last laugh when she priced the steak: ribeye, flank, or round.
“In for a penny, in for a pound.” She would say with a wink and nod. Her hair in a bob. The fringe would swing as she went about the job.
Seymour
He smiles when he sees me take a bite. The shadows flicker between us in the candle light.
“Thank you for the gift, darling.” A small napkin dabs the corner of my mouth and the tang of blood lingers, waiting to be washed down with wine.
Audrey
I wanted to write about John Wayne and his stomach cancer. But that seems a trite meditation on machismo slugging a guy in the gut after years of livin’ manly: liquor, cigars, cigarettes, bandannas, boots, spurs, horses, ranching, films, post production, brand promotion, and steaks so juicy, so red it’s like sinking your teeth into this sliver of tenderness you wrestled to the ground just through grit alone. Real hard man shit. But then another obit won out as I recently read a science article. They found ancient primate blood in amber thanks to some ancient ass tick. But the tick also carried parasites. And that seemed a more encompassing meditation on the picture of man’s evolution. Can’t cure cancer or stop the emergence of new parasitic diseases, but he can visit the moon. A step above wildly howling at it sure; but let’s be real about those who get drunk and still do.
Wandering Star
Delicious, when almost rare
Can be eaten anywhere
Can be eaten her or there
Although most would simply stare
No longer need to kill ourselves
Bred and fattened placed on shelves
For us to gorge on for ourselves
Mmm, steak, oh the cooking smells!
Caroline had him foaming at the mouth.
Levi sat at the table, hands so tight that you could see the whites of his knuckles. His back was rigid against the chair. The wetness of his mouth began to seep through his lips. He licked them and swallowed hard as she stood in front of him.
“Happy birthday, Levi!”
She placed the plate in front of him, and the smell of it wrapped its way all around him, filling him with lustful feelings in the pit of his stomach.
God, he loved a good steak.
Go ahead, turn my heart into a steak. It’s kind of old, and it is dysfunctional. It doesn’t want to be a heart any more. You may as well eat it. Better use for it.
“Rare” she ordered, picking up a wine glass in the palm of her hand and sipping her Chardonnay. Obviously an amateur trying to look fancier than she appeared. She batted eyes that were poorly lathered with eye liner, she ‘coyly’ adjusted her somehow ever falling nylons that just couldn’t seem to stay put on her thighs, and she placed her glass down far enough across the table to let her hand invitingly rest near his.
“Now, tell me, your mother had such wonderful things to say about you, what did she tell you about me Erik?” As he debated recalling his mother’s desperate pleas of ‘She’s not that bad’ or his favorite ‘Just don’t look at her fake tits’ he couldn’t help but smile. It was 8:07pm, he’d already been on this horrid date well past his usual time allotted to this triviality, and she had yet to drop a common line like ‘Our families really do get along well’.
Even so, he adjusted his tie again and started.
“She said you had a sense of humor I would enjoy, and that you knew your way around a dart board.” She faltered, ignorable brown eyes widening since this was not what a lady in waiting should be known for.
“Oh my, what a charmer I must sound like! But really, I wouldn’t go anywhere near a dart board anymore, I much more care for my poetry now.” She tried to recover the slip of humanity with a dainty hand laying across her doctor approved chest.
“Ah yes poetry,” he said honestly, pulling away from the table and pushing it back in while grabbing his coat from a near by hook. “My boyfriend also enjoys poetry, but he’s begun reading more Tolstoy lately. Maybe you’ll meet him soon, you can discuss your literary background.”
She had the flicker of annoyance pass through her brows, but they stayed in place with the same look of shock and a devilish conviction only found in those in he midst of an act. The waiter came by the table and placed her food down, wafting with heat and a delicious aroma that made even his stomach grumble. Before the gentleman, he placed a take out bag and a slip of paper. The man signed it quickly and finished placing his coat around his shoulders as the waiter departed.
The woman looked none the darling wilting rose as she had when she first walked into the five star restaurant, no not a trace of the comfortable vixen remained.
“You fag, you’ve turned down every girl from our family, even fucking Melinda who’s a dyke herself! You’re gonna hear from my father, you’re gonna be the reason our families go broke!” As she shouted he calmly placed the take out under his arm, and with the other hand swiped a finger through her garlic herb potatoes.
“Mmm… Harold, your brother is doing a great job with the food!” he shouted to a nearby table, the man smiling back at him. “And Amanda, my guy is going to need your services tomorrow, I think he pulled his tricep when we went to the gym and you KNOW he won’t listen to me.” He said, getting a chuckle and a light hearted reply from a woman near the back of the room.
The woman across the table from him looked uglier as the room got smaller and smaller, filled with people who were not on her side.
“You hold white wines by the stem sweetie, red wines in your palm. Enjoy your dinner, my family IS paying for it after all.”
The butcher always had the last laugh when she priced the steak: ribeye, flank, or round.
“In for a penny, in for a pound.” She would say with a wink and nod. Her hair in a bob. The fringe would swing as she went about the job.
He smiles when he sees me take a bite. The shadows flicker between us in the candle light.
“Thank you for the gift, darling.” A small napkin dabs the corner of my mouth and the tang of blood lingers, waiting to be washed down with wine.
I wanted to write about John Wayne and his stomach cancer. But that seems a trite meditation on machismo slugging a guy in the gut after years of livin’ manly: liquor, cigars, cigarettes, bandannas, boots, spurs, horses, ranching, films, post production, brand promotion, and steaks so juicy, so red it’s like sinking your teeth into this sliver of tenderness you wrestled to the ground just through grit alone. Real hard man shit. But then another obit won out as I recently read a science article. They found ancient primate blood in amber thanks to some ancient ass tick. But the tick also carried parasites. And that seemed a more encompassing meditation on the picture of man’s evolution. Can’t cure cancer or stop the emergence of new parasitic diseases, but he can visit the moon. A step above wildly howling at it sure; but let’s be real about those who get drunk and still do.
Delicious, when almost rare
Can be eaten anywhere
Can be eaten her or there
Although most would simply stare
No longer need to kill ourselves
Bred and fattened placed on shelves
For us to gorge on for ourselves
Mmm, steak, oh the cooking smells!
Caroline had him foaming at the mouth.
Levi sat at the table, hands so tight that you could see the whites of his knuckles. His back was rigid against the chair. The wetness of his mouth began to seep through his lips. He licked them and swallowed hard as she stood in front of him.
“Happy birthday, Levi!”
She placed the plate in front of him, and the smell of it wrapped its way all around him, filling him with lustful feelings in the pit of his stomach.
God, he loved a good steak.
I eat a steak.
The steak is delicious.
I need buy a steak.