How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yet meat?
How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?
Day four without food.
The man on the radio said I need only wait another hour.
His boat would arrive.
His boat with food.
96 hours consuming only fresh water.
I looked for a crab or an insect,
To tie me over.
But to no avail.
The boat arrived on schedule.
The skiff pulled into the lagoon.
I was saved.
Only I wasn’t.
His offer, Percheron, Appaloosa, and Morgan choice cuts.
Tenderloins, steaks, and burgers galore.
My response,
“Do you have butterscotch pudding?”
Sunrise on a barren island.
My internal clock now passes 100 hours.
The man with the skiff now waits patiently offshore.
Reorganizing his menu to include a new variety of selections.
Title: Courtesy of Pink Floyd, The Wall
I Dig a French Bikini on Hawaii Island Dolls by a Palm Tree in the Sand
I Dig a French Bikini on Hawaii Island Dolls by a Palm Tree in the Sand
She danced in the penumbra
Her shadow became as iridescent as the leaves of the trees accompanying her
I was intrigued at the spectacle
Once she turned my way
Once she lifted her head
Once she opened her eyes to make contact
I was gobsmacked
I was smitten
I was beholden to her beauty
And she knew it
She never spoke to me
At least verbally
Using her “come hither” appeal
I was unable to resist
I was unable to want such a decision
I left my drink on the table
I left my paperwork to the winds
I might have counter-offered her beck and call
I might have cured world hunger
Such were my odds to endure the inevitable
Every year, we return to that locale
Every year, she displays her growing portfolio of skills
Last year, our child arrived in situ
This year, he arrived in hand
Even at his age, he watched his mother dance
As I always will
Title: Courtesy of the Beach Boys, California Girls
ratio decidendi v. obiter dictum
ratio decidendi v obiter dictum
“The deed is done.”
“Tell me the details.”
“I used an icicle and a running start. He mounted a resistance inversely proportional to the depth of my thrust. He took much longer than I expected to fall; much longer to surrender. A man with his heart condition and his pharmaceutical obligations almost turned the tables on me. This had me worried, so much so, I kept the pressure until I lost grip of the impromptu weapon as it melted within his (ironically matching) cold demeanor.”
“Did anyone see you? Did anyone come to investigate?
“Neither. I secured the room and kept my gloves on the entire time. With as many friends he has, the room is sure to have too many fingerprints for the police to sort out.”
“Consider your end of the bargain complete. I will attend to my end today. From this moment on, never call me and I will never call you.”
“Agreed.”
“Who was that?”
“Hold on a second. I’m getting a text.”
“Come on back to bed. I’m lonely without you. How about another round?
“Just one minute more. I have to make an important decision.”
“Does it involve me or what you want to do with me?”
“Let’s just say a little bit of both.”
“Put the cuffs on your wrists and the ironwork on the headboard. I will secure your legs when I see fit.”
“Kinky! This is a side of you I have yet to see.”
“Put me in the mood, babe. Before we start, in regards to that last call, would you give a liar a second chance?”
“Baby, if it was you, I’d give you all of the chances you’d want. This is getting exciting. What are you going to do?”
“Well, if you must know, that call was from your husband. We made a deal that he would kill my father so I could inherit his fortune without waiting twenty more years to do so. In exchange, I agreed to kill you, his wife, for your constant infidelity. What you're looking at is a personal favorite of mine, a Colt Woodsman pistol. It is complete with a silencer to keep noisy people from investigating.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“That was the plan, until I received a text, ironically, from my father. He texts that he was stabbed, and the paramedics are taking him to the hospital for better care. He says he will live and I should join him there.”
“So, there is no reason to kill me?”
“Your husband lied to me. I can’t stand liars. He has to die. Furthermore, I can’t stand witnesses. This morning was memorable, but business is business. A man has to learn accountability and possibly some Latin. Sorry.”
At First Sight
At First Sight
Perhaps it was his perfectly white teeth
She had not previously noticed
Until he made sure she did
Perhaps it was his boyish charm
Most likely of Midwest origin
Complete with an “Aww shucks” and “Thank you, Ma’am”
Perhaps it was his slightly tousled hair
Coupled with defined arm muscles and calloused hands
Reminders to all of an honest day’s work
But it was his eyes making contact with her
Steely blue, almost wolf-like in color
Definitely wolf-like in intent
She was smitten before she could take a second breath
Receiving her change was the impetus for touching hands
The electricity powered the reverberation all the way to the altar.
Numbers the By
Numbers the By
At 10pm, I left for the for good.
At 9pm, we took a break. I stood outside in the light rain. She continued the argument, alone, in the kitchen. She broke a few dishes, cursed my name, and took a knife to our honeymoon photo.
At 8pm, She wanted me gone. She wanted me to remain. She wanted her pound of flesh. She wanted every drop of my blood. By this time, I had no recourse. I exhausted all of the reasons, without a single one holding fast.
At 6pm, we began the shouting match. What I did was wrong. What she did was equally wrong. Why either one of us knew what the other did was pure happenstance. Both of us claimed the moral high ground that neither of us were qualified to stand. My remorse for my actions surpassed my anger for hers. By her tone, I understood she held an opposite position.
At 5pm, the pizza delivery guy arrived. I paid for and tipped him for his service. The box seemed a little on the light side. None-the-less, I set our dinner on the table. She opened the box and wished she hadn’t. It contained a series of color photos of my last affair with her sister and my wife’s affair with my cousin. Needless to say, somebody has a flair for the dramatic.
At Noon, I asked her to leave because I had to clean the apartment before my wife returned from her business trip. She told me I should have a backbone and tell her our marriage was over. As much as I wanted the beautiful creature laying naked on the silk sheets, I wanted less drama in my life more. She knew what I was about to say. I knew she knew. Her departure coincided with one last kiss and the ominous whisper of a warning of events yet to come.
One week ago, my cousin arrived in his new convertible to pick up my wife for their conference in Vegas on Monday. I asked her why she did not fly out on Sunday for she already had the tickets. She told me she wanted to experience the drive across the desert while she had the chance. I should have known better as I bid them well, but I had other events on my mind and my calendar for the weekend suddenly opened up.
The Last Time
The Last Time
The last time I heard her speak
She was sure of her words
"Tell my children I love them
You, my husband, already know"
The last time I saw her walk
She spun on her heel
Giving me a glimpse of what first attracted me
And what kept me under her spell
The last time we ate dinner
I gave her the night off
Her favorite was eggplant parmigiana
The fine wine, I chose, covered for my cooking errors
The last time we said good night
I dreamt of our future together
Awashed in laughter and love
Void of pain and sorrow
The last time I saw you
Before they closed the coffin
I recited our wedding vows
Knowing we would (someday) meet again
When I last came to Gasworth
When I last came to Gasworth
When I last came to Gasworth
In the middle of last May
I spied a lass who spied me
Going on her way
Her flaxen hair was neither sandy
Nor impertinently unkept
It mirrored the afternoon Sun
Perfectly brushed and perfectly swept
She introduced herself as Millicent
And I as Thomas Marlay
I inquired as to her destination
On this magnificent day
I might travel where thou dost go
If ye go with me
I have need for secure passage
To remain young and free
So I turned as she turned
Toward the setting Sun
Twas not the destination I would choose
But the choosing was not yet done
I learned of her past
I learned of her dreams
I learned of who would ruin both
I learned of their schemes
A single girl away from home
Makes an easy mark
But a married woman with her beau
Emits ideas that spark
I didn’t require more lecturing,
Reasoning, or the lot
Her dowry consisted of a single pledge
She gave as good as she got
Next year, I sojourned to Gasworth
In a carriage built for three
A Lord, his Lady,
And a daughter as a family
Faint of Heart or Feint of Heart
Faint of Heart or Feint of Heart
She told me she loved me, but only after I said those words first.
I stood in disbelief at the church where she invited me to her wedding. She asked me to arrive in a tuxedo. She stated she would be wearing white. I thought A. She delivered B.
“It will never last.” I told her.
“It was never meant to.” She replied.
Weeks passed into months. Months never made it to years. She was free by Spring.
This meant she was looking for adventure.
I, however, was looking for investors. My ideas began to bloom as well as tulips and azaleas. All I required was financing.
All she required was a place to invest divorce capital.
Despite my reservations, I accepted her offer and she became the most vocal silent partner in the history of business.
Despite her machinations and impediments, I became (one of) the most successful entrepreneurs in the tri-state area.
That is until I offered to take her to dinner to celebrate our one year business anniversary. After she feasted, she revealed her intentions to sell her part of the business to my rival, effectively making me financially impotent.
“The way I want my men.” It was the last sentence I heard her speak as I paid the bill and departed for greener pastures.
Six years passed until I heard from her again. A traffic collision caused her to lose both kidneys. She arose every morning adhering to a strict diet and an even stricter regime of afternoon dialysis treatments. I wondered if I should send my condolences.
I didn’t have to wonder for long.
Her messenger arrived at my new residence bearing an offer worthy of reading. She wanted me to test for compatibility for organ donation. I sat aghast, waiting to discover a hidden reality show camera operating or a Publisher’s Clearing House crew arriving. Neither transpired. I made a few inquiries confirming the validity of the correspondence. I neither wanted to address the issue nor comply with the request. When dealing with her, it is best to have all questions answered, notarized, legally addressed, and sealed with blood.
However, the $750,000 check made my apprehensions easier to dispel.
I awoke from the surgery with a residual salt taste from remnants of sodium pentothal. The nurse laughed when she heard me continue my pre-op countdown knowing I responded to the anesthesia in the same way millions before me had. After informing the doctor of my condition, I continued my plans on how I was to spend my tax-free bounty.
She, on the other hand, did not fare as well as I. She did not awaken within the usual time frame as complications set in. By the end of the day, I was informed that she would never awaken. Between her fever and an allergy to the anti-rejection meds, the doctors felt it best to place her in a medically induced coma for the time being.
That was two years ago.
I stopped visiting just after a month. I was paid for my service and my kidney and under the circumstances, felt no obligation to continue a relationship with her. I invested my money in my new business and found a plethora of clients willing to reciprocate.
Thus, I became rich.
Thus, I could finally retire.
Thus, I had time on my hands.
Unfortunately, with this time, came thoughts of her.
I did my research and found she had died and was buried in the Lawn Memorial Cemetery.
I had to pay my respects.
Upon arriving, I found her grave stone desecrated and her burial site overgrown. I spoke to management and offered to pay the monthly service fee to keep it presentable. It was the least I could do, consider the circumstances.
When I returned, the site looked immaculate. I felt a sense of both pride and relief that she could no longer do what she did best.
Until I scrutinized her marker.
It read that she had died the day before her surgery, not the day of.
I went to the office to clear up the matter. I spoke with a young man, not the woman from before, and told him of my concern. He indicated that no woman worked at the cemetery and wondered if I was in the correct place. I asked him to confirm my monthly payment to maintain the grave site. He indicated he had no such record of a monthly payment. I called my credit card company and they told me they had suspended my credit card account for fraudulent activity.
It was her. It had to be her. Only she would act in such a personal manner.
And now two can.
Tell Me What You Get When You Get What You Got
Tell Me What You Get When You Get What You Got
The genie waited for my reply. I had one wish remaining.
I used the first wish to wish for ten billion dollars. The genie said, “Granted.” He then explained the collective wealth, as quantitatively defined on paper, was in excess of the amount I wished for.
“So I do not get the money?” I inquired, already foreseeing the answer.
“You did not indicate in your wish that the money was to be for you. You only wished for it to be.”
I have a smart ash genie on my hands.
“OK then (I inquired tepidly), I wish to own all of New York City, my home town.”
“Granted.” It was all he had to say. In retrospect, I wish he had not.
In an instant, I was whisked away to the New York City criminal court of Lower Manhattan to be arraigned by the judge (the genie) on the charges of tax evasion for all of the properties in my name. “How do you plead to these 2.7 million counts?”
Ok, I understand.
Time for the third wish.
For this one, I thought long and hard. I wanted something the genie could neither pervert nor distort. I wanted something unexpected.
And I told him so.
“I wish for . . “
And I did not finish.
The genie waited for me to finish. I waited for him to wait for me.
It’s not that I chose not to choose, for he would interpret that as a wish.
Perhaps, I wanted a stalemate. Perhaps, I wanted something more.
But what I got was not what I (originally) wanted, but it was more than I deserved.
The genie still waits to this day for closure.
Perhaps that is the best wish of all.
An Elliptical Coulisse
An Elliptical Coulisse
My world ends as it has begun
I am now from whence I set forth
Hence, I am home
And yet, I am not
I am eccentric
My path has eccentricity
Both are mathematically formulaic
Only mine is problematic
I slip into a dream of Montenegro
Where both reader and non-reader only converse in French
Comment puis-je le savoir?
Je suis excentrique. Il n’est pas nécessaire de l’expliquer.
My friend says I am being tongue and cheeky
I prefer the sobriquet, tongue and groovy
He explains, that either way
I am not in control of my destiny
And, as if I was embarking
On a journey to locate the “Second Foundation”,
I shall discover that which remains hidden
Hindering prying eyes designed to hinder all they spy
Thus, my world ends as it has begun
I am now from whence I set forth
Did I actually venture?
Or was I only along for the ride?