Glandular Problem

I keep trying to run but the tiles are tricky.

No Exterminator

The pneumatic doors at the back of the bus clicked and opened slowly, as if they didn’t want to release me into the humid summer day. It was before eight, still, but it was already warm and muggy. As I stepped down off the last step of the bus I straightened my shoulder bag around my frame and trudged off to my office.

Hard At Work

Heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy kids!


I am a little low on fuel right now, despite the feast that occurred earlier today. I made a fairly sizable road trip out to my family in Wisconsin and back, followed by an additional round of gear to the new homestead. As such, I have had little to no time to write to an emphatic recommendation of pop miscellany.


So here's what I'm proposing - I'm going to post some short fiction, at which I've been poking away. They are a pair of unrelated, but similar in tone, pieces that stem from nightmares I've had. Maybe you're reading this on a slow Friday morning. Word on the street is if you have to be in the office on Friday you don't have to actually work, you just have to do compliance training. So you're all caught up? Good. Read these fictions and tell me what you think on the ol' twitter - 


No Exterminator


Glandular Problems


I'll get back to my usual routines as of the weekend, despite the big day for moving. Zero hour, man. It's gonna be a trip. I'll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck and read up!

Car Crash Cacophany

Evening, gang.

I'm totally tapped. Had a massive day at the office, book-ended by a run around the lakes in the morning and a surprise yoga session in the afternoon. I would love to give you an emphatic recommendation buy at this point it would feel false. In the face of failure, I'll throw a bit of honest to goodness fiction in here, one of the first I ever wrote, to be compensated by a double post tomorrow. So, you hang tight and read this short, sad story and check back in for what I ought to have posted today. I'll see you on the weekend...

Keep your cards close – keep your cards close to keep your cash closer.  I hated that phrase the first time I heard it.  Felt so unloving – who would hold it as a life motto?  My grandfather told me that when I was young, and I learned as I grew older that he wasn’t a trusting person.

His wife, my grandma, was just as cynical.  I remember being upset as a young boy because it had rained on the day she was supposed to take me to the State Fair, and the lesson she passed on to me was “Nothing in life is certain, save death and taxes.”  Sick thing to say to a kid, perhaps, but at least she was leveling with me at a time in my life when the whole world was sugar-coated.  It was the kind of lesson you don’t realize you’ve learned until Life already has you bent over and waiting for it and things around you have fallen apart.  No one ever sees it coming until they’ve missed their chance.  

Breathing

Hey gang, what's the good word?


I know this is where I normally would post a review of something amazing and under appreciated by the world at large, but at the moment I'm on the go and unable to sit and write the normal amount of appropriate text. So to ease the burden and remain consistent, here's another bit of fiction, picked pure from my mind. I promise that to make up for the lack of music I'll do a double post tomorrow. In the meantime enjoy this little fiction...






They only move when I move, he thought. Silence hung in the room, unmoving and thick, save for the monotonous electronic drone of the wall mounted clock on the north wall. Each second that passed felt forced and deliberate.  He ran a hand up to his short black hair and rubbed the fur in frustration. At the same moment, 24 students and a middle-aged teacher mimicked his movements, right hand sliding up the side of their bodies, rustling their hair, letting out the same barely audible sigh; with 25 people sighing at once the level of the sigh was thicker, a ghostly rush of air from all around him. Tom was growing weary.

Toad in the Hole

Here's a fun new thing to add to my list of awesome things. When I get the itch for putting fiction through my fingers, I'll post it here and compile them under the fictions heading. How about a story?

The gray-blue doors of the elevator stood hard and unmoving.  There was a sign on the right-hand sliding door framed in beige masking tape – “Out of order”.

“Shoot.”

I hit my head against the wall.  I didn’t feel like doing anything, let alone walking up five flights of stairs.  My bag was weighing heavily on my back and shoulders, pulling my arms back and knotting muscles from the weight of my cleats, clothes and books.  I was still slick with sweat and had a dirty mix of blood and mud caked around my calves.  My intramural team had gotten soundly pounded in another game, and the loss was draining.  I had nearly passed out from the heat and humidity in the game, but kept on playing from a lack of subs.  I had worked a full shift at the bar, and had a paper to write for the next day.  Today was too long.  I thought the end was in sight, but it was five floors up.  I wanted to shower terribly, wash the stink and grime of a hard day off of me.  But the elevator was out.