Tee_Hi
I write voraciously; these days, it's mostly for songs for my band, Urban Gypsies Music Group Chi... My Blog- http://illnspireu.blogspot.com
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Writer's block.
Written by Tee_Hi

My Antagonizing Protagonist

I stare at her and she stares at me.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

And still we stare at each other.

Finally, something breaks.

       "Why the fuck won't you talk to me, dammit?!" I scream at her in despair.

She says nothing.

       "I've read alot, a LOT, of interviews with authors who say their characters talk to them! Some authors even say their characters talk so much, they have to scream at them to shut up!...But not you. No! You stay silent!"

I look her in the eyes and she looks back, but her face conveys no emotion.

       "WHY?! Do you not like how I started your story? Did I do something wrong? Tell me! Tell me so I can fix it! I'm all ears!"

Still nothing.

Now I'm really angry and the threats come,

       "You fucking bitch! How about I just say 'fuck you' and write you out of the damn story, huh? How would you like that, Miss High and Mighty?...Huh?...If you won't freakin' talk, I bet someone else will!"

She's nonplussed. Her mouth doesn't so much as twitch.

I try a different tact,

       "Please," I cry, tears starting to fall, "just say SOMEthing. Give me ANYthing. One small nugget and I'll go from there...Please?...Please?... Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

Still, she is unmoved. I stare at her, again, thinking of all the high hopes I had for a successful collaboration. I think of all the books we could sell together. I think of all the money we could have. I think of all the fun we should be having, drinking coffee and putting words to screen. Alas, my protagonist apparently has other plans.

Mutely, she sits. Staring at me, but not moving otherwise. Her mouth doesn't move. Her nose doesn't twitch. Her hands stay folded in her lap, ever so ladylike. She neither crosses nor uncrosses her legs. She doesn't straighten her unkempt hair. She does nothing but stare.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

       "Talk to me before I beat the dog shit out of you!" I put my face right up to hers, but not even a hair does she move, to back away from me. "I SAID you better. fucking. talk. to. me. now, dammit!"

Out of control, I grab her and start shaking her, back and forth, screaming, then slapping her, then screaming more. I've lost myself. Never ever before have I been abusive and now here I am, bloodying the one person I need most at the moment.

I somehow manage to get hold of myself. Walking over to the wall, I beat on it with my fist until it's bloodied and the wall is smeared with red, hoping to get my anger and frustration and torment out without hurting HER any more than I already have.

Finally collected, I go back and stare at her again. 

I stare. She stares. The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

I sigh. And I cry and I cry and I cry, while my protagonist sits, silent, unmoving, unhelpful.

13
1
4
Juice
39 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Writer's block.
Written by Tee_Hi
My Antagonizing Protagonist
I stare at her and she stares at me.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

And still we stare at each other.

Finally, something breaks.

       "Why the fuck won't you talk to me, dammit?!" I scream at her in despair.

She says nothing.

       "I've read alot, a LOT, of interviews with authors who say their characters talk to them! Some authors even say their characters talk so much, they have to scream at them to shut up!...But not you. No! You stay silent!"

I look her in the eyes and she looks back, but her face conveys no emotion.

       "WHY?! Do you not like how I started your story? Did I do something wrong? Tell me! Tell me so I can fix it! I'm all ears!"

Still nothing.

Now I'm really angry and the threats come,
       "You fucking bitch! How about I just say 'fuck you' and write you out of the damn story, huh? How would you like that, Miss High and Mighty?...Huh?...If you won't freakin' talk, I bet someone else will!"

She's nonplussed. Her mouth doesn't so much as twitch.

I try a different tact,
       "Please," I cry, tears starting to fall, "just say SOMEthing. Give me ANYthing. One small nugget and I'll go from there...Please?...Please?... Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

Still, she is unmoved. I stare at her, again, thinking of all the high hopes I had for a successful collaboration. I think of all the books we could sell together. I think of all the money we could have. I think of all the fun we should be having, drinking coffee and putting words to screen. Alas, my protagonist apparently has other plans.

Mutely, she sits. Staring at me, but not moving otherwise. Her mouth doesn't move. Her nose doesn't twitch. Her hands stay folded in her lap, ever so ladylike. She neither crosses nor uncrosses her legs. She doesn't straighten her unkempt hair. She does nothing but stare.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

       "Talk to me before I beat the dog shit out of you!" I put my face right up to hers, but not even a hair does she move, to back away from me. "I SAID you better. fucking. talk. to. me. now, dammit!"

Out of control, I grab her and start shaking her, back and forth, screaming, then slapping her, then screaming more. I've lost myself. Never ever before have I been abusive and now here I am, bloodying the one person I need most at the moment.

I somehow manage to get hold of myself. Walking over to the wall, I beat on it with my fist until it's bloodied and the wall is smeared with red, hoping to get my anger and frustration and torment out without hurting HER any more than I already have.

Finally collected, I go back and stare at her again. 

I stare. She stares. The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

I sigh. And I cry and I cry and I cry, while my protagonist sits, silent, unmoving, unhelpful.
13
1
4
Juice
39 reads
Load 4 Comments
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree.
Written by Tee_Hi

That Tree

The neighborhood kids always avoid that tree. For that tree has a bark that is as bad as its bite. Because it’s bark IS its bite.

Picture this:

July 2012 AD, hell.

The devil – Sate-man, as he likes to be called, to keep up with the times – is on the warpath. Hell is hot on any given day, but on this particular day in July, it’s extra hot, with zero chance of rain or even wind. Sate-man would just go above ground, but he’s got paperwork – it’s always the gotdamn paperwork, isn’t it?! – to sign so the demons can go about their business.

Fuckin’ ingrates, he thinks, can’t do a damn thing – and I mean that literally, a damn thing, hah! – without supervision. I tell fuckin’ Laziness to attach himself to Martha like red on Trump and Laziness says he needs an affidavit! An affidavit?! What the fuck?! What the hell – hell! - is this world coming to when a demon can’t even do its damn – damn, hah! – job without filing a form first?! Sheez!

So, Sate-man is slaving away under a pile of paperwork, when he soon feels parched. He rings for his butler, Alfredthazar, who enters and asks what his master would like. Sate-man says he needs some water – a lot of water – and he needs it NOW. Alfredthazar nods and says the demon-dogs have just returned with a few buckets of such liquid; would his wickedness like them to bring him some? Sate-man nods and Alfredthazar is off. Sate-man goes back to work.

An hour later, Sate-man realizes he hasn’t received his water. He rings for Alfredthazar, who enters and stands quietly.

“Do I really have to ask the question, old man? Where the fuck is my water? What happened to Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot?”

Alfredthazar clears his throat. “I’m s-sorry, your eminence. The dogs got detained and, well…”

“And?”

“They ended up drinking the water and had to go fetch more.” Alfredthazar was suddenly inordinately interested in the intricacies of the design on Sate-man’s floor, as he studied them intently.

“They WHAT?!”

“I…I…I’m sorry.” Alfredthazar was still scanning the floor, unable to look Sate-man in the face. “They ran into a cat and well…” he let the words trail off and prepared for a thrashing.

“They ran into a fucking CAT?! Send them in here as soon as they return and they better have the gotdamn water!”

“Yes, sir.” Alfredthazar moved faster than Sate-man thought possible for someone of his age and all was quiet again.

Fifteen minutes later, Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot came padding in. Sans water.

Irate, Sate-man started yelling at the trio, who cowered under his wrath. The leader, Tripoly, tried to interject with whining and intermittent growling, but Sate-man was not to be calmed. He continued ranting and raving and telling the poor canines what half-assed pooches they were. Demon dogs, indeed. “More like pussies!” he yelled.

Tantrum done, Sate-man handed down his verdict. “The three of you are now banned to a tree above-ground, inside of which you shall live for 1000 years.”

Cerebruston tried running, but Sate-man flicked his wrist and the dog was frozen in place. He continued, “You will be able to see the outside world, but no more interacting with it. No more pats on the head, no more treats, no more smiles flung in your direction.” He glared at each of the dogs, who bowed their heads, tails between their legs. “You will, however, be able to bark – bark, hah! - at young passersby – adults will not be able to see or hear you, all the more torture for you! - and, should they touch the tree, you’ll bite them, causing them to die and immediately be sent here...You might as well benefit me somehow during your banishment.”

And with that, the trio was banished to that tree.

At first, the children didn’t know anything was different about the tree, but then one day, young Timmy Witmore and his cousin, Chauncey Landers, were playing under the tree, when they suddenly heard barking.

“Timmy! It sounds like it’s coming from the tree!” the five-year-old redhead said. Chauncey ran his hand over a branch, then suddenly yelped. His hand was red and bleeding and swelling up. They ran for Chauncey’s home and told his parents what happened. They rushed him to the ER, but it was too late. Shortly thereafter, the boy died. His parents just thought he sliced his hand on a bark and got infected and that the dog barking was a coincidence. But Timmy knew better. As children do, he told all his friends. Some didn’t believe him and they had to investigate for themselves. Upon hearing the barking, they’d run away, frightened.

And so, the neighborhood kids always avoid that tree.

8
3
4
Juice
38 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree.
Written by Tee_Hi
That Tree
The neighborhood kids always avoid that tree. For that tree has a bark that is as bad as its bite. Because it’s bark IS its bite.

Picture this:
July 2012 AD, hell.
The devil – Sate-man, as he likes to be called, to keep up with the times – is on the warpath. Hell is hot on any given day, but on this particular day in July, it’s extra hot, with zero chance of rain or even wind. Sate-man would just go above ground, but he’s got paperwork – it’s always the gotdamn paperwork, isn’t it?! – to sign so the demons can go about their business.

Fuckin’ ingrates, he thinks, can’t do a damn thing – and I mean that literally, a damn thing, hah! – without supervision. I tell fuckin’ Laziness to attach himself to Martha like red on Trump and Laziness says he needs an affidavit! An affidavit?! What the fuck?! What the hell – hell! - is this world coming to when a demon can’t even do its damn – damn, hah! – job without filing a form first?! Sheez!

So, Sate-man is slaving away under a pile of paperwork, when he soon feels parched. He rings for his butler, Alfredthazar, who enters and asks what his master would like. Sate-man says he needs some water – a lot of water – and he needs it NOW. Alfredthazar nods and says the demon-dogs have just returned with a few buckets of such liquid; would his wickedness like them to bring him some? Sate-man nods and Alfredthazar is off. Sate-man goes back to work.

An hour later, Sate-man realizes he hasn’t received his water. He rings for Alfredthazar, who enters and stands quietly.

“Do I really have to ask the question, old man? Where the fuck is my water? What happened to Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot?”

Alfredthazar clears his throat. “I’m s-sorry, your eminence. The dogs got detained and, well…”

“And?”

“They ended up drinking the water and had to go fetch more.” Alfredthazar was suddenly inordinately interested in the intricacies of the design on Sate-man’s floor, as he studied them intently.

“They WHAT?!”

“I…I…I’m sorry.” Alfredthazar was still scanning the floor, unable to look Sate-man in the face. “They ran into a cat and well…” he let the words trail off and prepared for a thrashing.

“They ran into a fucking CAT?! Send them in here as soon as they return and they better have the gotdamn water!”

“Yes, sir.” Alfredthazar moved faster than Sate-man thought possible for someone of his age and all was quiet again.

Fifteen minutes later, Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot came padding in. Sans water.

Irate, Sate-man started yelling at the trio, who cowered under his wrath. The leader, Tripoly, tried to interject with whining and intermittent growling, but Sate-man was not to be calmed. He continued ranting and raving and telling the poor canines what half-assed pooches they were. Demon dogs, indeed. “More like pussies!” he yelled.

Tantrum done, Sate-man handed down his verdict. “The three of you are now banned to a tree above-ground, inside of which you shall live for 1000 years.”

Cerebruston tried running, but Sate-man flicked his wrist and the dog was frozen in place. He continued, “You will be able to see the outside world, but no more interacting with it. No more pats on the head, no more treats, no more smiles flung in your direction.” He glared at each of the dogs, who bowed their heads, tails between their legs. “You will, however, be able to bark – bark, hah! - at young passersby – adults will not be able to see or hear you, all the more torture for you! - and, should they touch the tree, you’ll bite them, causing them to die and immediately be sent here...You might as well benefit me somehow during your banishment.”

And with that, the trio was banished to that tree.

At first, the children didn’t know anything was different about the tree, but then one day, young Timmy Witmore and his cousin, Chauncey Landers, were playing under the tree, when they suddenly heard barking.

“Timmy! It sounds like it’s coming from the tree!” the five-year-old redhead said. Chauncey ran his hand over a branch, then suddenly yelped. His hand was red and bleeding and swelling up. They ran for Chauncey’s home and told his parents what happened. They rushed him to the ER, but it was too late. Shortly thereafter, the boy died. His parents just thought he sliced his hand on a bark and got infected and that the dog barking was a coincidence. But Timmy knew better. As children do, he told all his friends. Some didn’t believe him and they had to investigate for themselves. Upon hearing the barking, they’d run away, frightened.

And so, the neighborhood kids always avoid that tree.
8
3
4
Juice
38 reads
Load 4 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Upon reading the ageless nonsense captured in famous nursery rhymes, you may be thinking "contrary marys and merry kings and muffets and poseys and dumpties....what a load of twaddle! .. How has that survived all these years?" but then the next day as you sit by yourself and find your mind rehearsing the verses involuntarily, you realize: They're catchy as heck. Write your own nursery rhyme. Fill it full of semi-sensical but catchy phrases.
Written by Tee_Hi

Rhymes for the Nursery

PIG 'N HOG

piggle wiggle, piggle wig,

a pig in a poke

sat down beside

a hog in a cloak.

both of them were shy,

so neither one spoke

'til they saw and heard

what they thought was smoke.

said the pig to the hog,

"i think we're toast",

said the hog to the pig,

"perhaps a roast."

toasty, roasty,

two chops on a plate,

they tried to run,

but were too late.

================================

NUNU

cluckity cluck cluck,

cock a doodle doo,

there once was a hen

and her name was Nunu.

she ran to paris,

then she ran to peru

and then she ran

to timbuktu.

10
4
6
Juice
44 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Upon reading the ageless nonsense captured in famous nursery rhymes, you may be thinking "contrary marys and merry kings and muffets and poseys and dumpties....what a load of twaddle! .. How has that survived all these years?" but then the next day as you sit by yourself and find your mind rehearsing the verses involuntarily, you realize: They're catchy as heck. Write your own nursery rhyme. Fill it full of semi-sensical but catchy phrases.
Written by Tee_Hi
Rhymes for the Nursery
PIG 'N HOG
piggle wiggle, piggle wig,
a pig in a poke
sat down beside
a hog in a cloak.
both of them were shy,
so neither one spoke
'til they saw and heard
what they thought was smoke.

said the pig to the hog,
"i think we're toast",
said the hog to the pig,
"perhaps a roast."
toasty, roasty,
two chops on a plate,
they tried to run,
but were too late.

================================
NUNU
cluckity cluck cluck,
cock a doodle doo,
there once was a hen
and her name was Nunu.
she ran to paris,
then she ran to peru
and then she ran
to timbuktu.
10
4
6
Juice
44 reads
Load 6 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Disturb me in 50 words or fewer
Written by Tee_Hi

'Tis Disturbing. Yes. Yes, It Is.

My dog is always, ALWAYS licking her privates.  I mean, she licks and laps and goes at it like it's filet mignon or something. So one day, I licked her down there, too.*

*Tastes like chicken.

25
6
14
Juice
99 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Disturb me in 50 words or fewer
Written by Tee_Hi
'Tis Disturbing. Yes. Yes, It Is.
My dog is always, ALWAYS licking her privates.  I mean, she licks and laps and goes at it like it's filet mignon or something. So one day, I licked her down there, too.*




*Tastes like chicken.
25
6
14
Juice
99 reads
Load 14 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Letters
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Nonfiction

So, W-h-a-t's U-p W-i-t-h T-h-a-t?

Dear Food Industry,

So, what's up with these foods with letters in them? I absolutely cannot STAND soup, so I've never had 'Alphabet' soup, but the cereal? Alpha-Bits? Now, that's the shit, right there. And I keep getting bowl after bowl, so I can see all the words I can spell out. Like, I love to spell out the time of day; I mean, if I'm eating in the a.m, I try to spell "morning" and if I'm eating in the p.m, it's "afternoon" or "evening" or "night". I've eaten so much damn cereal, I'm nearly big as a h-o-u-s-e, now...See there? See what I did? I just HAD to spell out a word and it's all your damn fault. And as if spelling out actual w-o-r-d-s isn’t bad enough, I’ve now found myself trying to do the whole alphabet. And I have yet to do it. The furthest I’ve gotten is to the letter “N”. How the fuck can you call yourself “Alpha-Bits” when you’re missing some of the bits? I just don’t get it.

And heaven forbid, it’s a day or evening or night when I want to make a whole sentence…Actually, I kind of like that, but then the whole bowl is soggy, by the time I get done and that is not good. My greatest fear is that I’ll empty a whole box at once cuz I’m trying to write an actual story. I imagine it’ll be doubly-hard since there are some bits – or should that be “bets”? – that are always missing.

And worst of all? Now I'm a criminal! I'm a damn cereal-killer.

I hope you rot in hell,

- Unhappy Serial-Eater.

10
1
3
Juice
39 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Letters
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Nonfiction
So, W-h-a-t's U-p W-i-t-h T-h-a-t?
Dear Food Industry,

So, what's up with these foods with letters in them? I absolutely cannot STAND soup, so I've never had 'Alphabet' soup, but the cereal? Alpha-Bits? Now, that's the shit, right there. And I keep getting bowl after bowl, so I can see all the words I can spell out. Like, I love to spell out the time of day; I mean, if I'm eating in the a.m, I try to spell "morning" and if I'm eating in the p.m, it's "afternoon" or "evening" or "night". I've eaten so much damn cereal, I'm nearly big as a h-o-u-s-e, now...See there? See what I did? I just HAD to spell out a word and it's all your damn fault. And as if spelling out actual w-o-r-d-s isn’t bad enough, I’ve now found myself trying to do the whole alphabet. And I have yet to do it. The furthest I’ve gotten is to the letter “N”. How the fuck can you call yourself “Alpha-Bits” when you’re missing some of the bits? I just don’t get it.

And heaven forbid, it’s a day or evening or night when I want to make a whole sentence…Actually, I kind of like that, but then the whole bowl is soggy, by the time I get done and that is not good. My greatest fear is that I’ll empty a whole box at once cuz I’m trying to write an actual story. I imagine it’ll be doubly-hard since there are some bits – or should that be “bets”? – that are always missing.

And worst of all? Now I'm a criminal! I'm a damn cereal-killer.

I hope you rot in hell,
- Unhappy Serial-Eater.
10
1
3
Juice
39 reads
Load 3 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Pen me a story where the first line is, "Women and children first" Disaster, dystopia, whatever you'd like.
Written by Tee_Hi

The Fair and the Innocent

"Women and children first", Hannibal said, "because they taste the most tender."

"Um", the young Psychiatrist on the other side of the table stuttered, taken aback. "How's that?...I mean, come again?...I mean-"

"You want me to repeat myself?" The inmate smirked, flicking his reptile-like tongue onto his pale lips before withdrawing it back into the caverns of his mouth. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his hands cupping the back of his head like a cradle. "When given the option, I always select women over children and children over men because the fairer sex and the innocent taste better...The children actually taste best, but I'm not a monster." He suddenly lowered his head and stared right into the Doctor's eyes.

The Doctor gulped, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He thought he was prepared, but he felt woefully inadequate for the task ahead. He reached up and ran a hand over his dark brown hair before clearing his throat. "You're not a monster?" It was all he could think to say.

Hannibal grinned, giving his best impression of a crocodile, and nodded. "No. I am not. Some may say that I am, but that is only an opinion and an inaccurate one, at that."

"Then...then...what are you?"

"I...am a connoisseur." The young man straightened the collar of his orange jumpsuit, then continued, his beady brown eyes never leaving the Doctor's face. "A lover of delicacies. A professor of the palate." He stopped and took in the other young man's face. It was probably a nice face in most instances, but now it was exceptionally pale and the blue eyes were wide with fear. His thin lips were dry, but Hannibal was certain a dollop of butter would vastly improve them. He smiled at the thought and took up where he left off.

"Tell me something, Doctor...Did you know that merlot goes excellent with vagina?"

"Va...va..."

"Gi...na." He pronounced the syllables slow and deliberate for the Doctor. "Nothing goes better with vagina than a nice goblet of merlot...Have you ever eaten a vagina, Dr...?"

"Dr. Erickson." He nearly choked on the words. Suddenly, the room seemed to get smaller. He'd never been claustraphobic before, but now he felt as though the four walls were closing in on him. He put his right thumb to his left wrist and felt for his pulse. It was fast. He had to get out of here. He stumbled out of the chair and, as he knocked on the door for the guard, he heard Hannibal behind him.

"Don't forget...Women and children, Dr...Women and children. First."

16
5
8
Juice
55 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Pen me a story where the first line is, "Women and children first" Disaster, dystopia, whatever you'd like.
Written by Tee_Hi
The Fair and the Innocent
"Women and children first", Hannibal said, "because they taste the most tender."

"Um", the young Psychiatrist on the other side of the table stuttered, taken aback. "How's that?...I mean, come again?...I mean-"

"You want me to repeat myself?" The inmate smirked, flicking his reptile-like tongue onto his pale lips before withdrawing it back into the caverns of his mouth. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his hands cupping the back of his head like a cradle. "When given the option, I always select women over children and children over men because the fairer sex and the innocent taste better...The children actually taste best, but I'm not a monster." He suddenly lowered his head and stared right into the Doctor's eyes.

The Doctor gulped, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He thought he was prepared, but he felt woefully inadequate for the task ahead. He reached up and ran a hand over his dark brown hair before clearing his throat. "You're not a monster?" It was all he could think to say.

Hannibal grinned, giving his best impression of a crocodile, and nodded. "No. I am not. Some may say that I am, but that is only an opinion and an inaccurate one, at that."

"Then...then...what are you?"

"I...am a connoisseur." The young man straightened the collar of his orange jumpsuit, then continued, his beady brown eyes never leaving the Doctor's face. "A lover of delicacies. A professor of the palate." He stopped and took in the other young man's face. It was probably a nice face in most instances, but now it was exceptionally pale and the blue eyes were wide with fear. His thin lips were dry, but Hannibal was certain a dollop of butter would vastly improve them. He smiled at the thought and took up where he left off.

"Tell me something, Doctor...Did you know that merlot goes excellent with vagina?"

"Va...va..."

"Gi...na." He pronounced the syllables slow and deliberate for the Doctor. "Nothing goes better with vagina than a nice goblet of merlot...Have you ever eaten a vagina, Dr...?"

"Dr. Erickson." He nearly choked on the words. Suddenly, the room seemed to get smaller. He'd never been claustraphobic before, but now he felt as though the four walls were closing in on him. He put his right thumb to his left wrist and felt for his pulse. It was fast. He had to get out of here. He stumbled out of the chair and, as he knocked on the door for the guard, he heard Hannibal behind him.

"Don't forget...Women and children, Dr...Women and children. First."
16
5
8
Juice
55 reads
Load 8 Comments
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Once Apron A Time... I cooked up a culinary pun. Write a sweet, salty, cheesy, fruity, saucy, creamy or otherwise food-related double-hinted slice of wisdom.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Comedy

My Sage Advice

Thyme is not guaranteed, so live loaf to the fullest, pepper your words with care, and don't stew over hurts too long.

17
3
7
Juice
37 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Once Apron A Time... I cooked up a culinary pun. Write a sweet, salty, cheesy, fruity, saucy, creamy or otherwise food-related double-hinted slice of wisdom.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Comedy
My Sage Advice
Thyme is not guaranteed, so live loaf to the fullest, pepper your words with care, and don't stew over hurts too long.
17
3
7
Juice
37 reads
Load 7 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Craft a story about an old god (or some kind of divinity) in a contemporary environment. Put Thor in a college frat. Let Anubis run a morgue. Have Apollo start his own shoes company to rival Nike’s. The possibilities are endless, but make sure you show both mythological depth and wit!
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Fantasy

Uh-Oh!

Well, the beautiful red-head thought, staring at her laptop, this facebook thing has been going on for quite a while, now. I guess it's high time I got an account, so I can see what all the raving is about. Into the browser, she typed 'facebook.com' and after what seemed a lifetime, but was really only a couple of seconds, she was greeted with the social site's home page.

"Create An Account", the screen said, so she typed in her information. Under 'first name', she dutifully typed, "Hera" and then paused a moment, wondering what to type in under 'last name'. After a moment of thought, she typed in "Famila". Where the screen requested her 'mobile number or email', she put in "GoddessofallH@Olympus.org" and where her password should go, she filled in "no1shal1defy.M3", then paused again at the next box.

"Birthdate?" she asked herself. Of course she knew it, but she didn't want to reveal her real age and what did they know, anyway? She pursed her ruby red lips, then selected "Jan 1, 1990". It's not like they'd actually check the information and if they did, so what? It wasn't like they could really do anything. Next, she selected, "Female" - as if there was any doubt! - and clicked on "Create Account". After another brief moment, the screen asked for her to verify her email address. She skipped it and found herself looking at a page that requested she 'Add Friends'. Skipping that option, as well, she found herself being asked for yet more information!

"Good Olympus", she sighed, impatiently. Skipping the first two sections - 'Search your email for friends already on Facebook' and 'Get to know your privacy settings' - she decided to respond to the third request, the one asking for a Profile picture. Of COURSE all of this facebook should know what she looks like, she smirked, then selected a lovely picture of herself in evening wear, taken from this past spring's Lightning Gala.

This time when she was greeted with 'Add people you know', she figured she should, so she could show herself off to all of her family and friends; wouldn't they all be surprised to see she'd finally gotten herself a facebook page?! Scrolling the list, she was stopped short when she saw the name 'Zeus'.

Wait! Her breathing increased. No, no. It couldn't be. Zeus couldn't have a facebook account! He hadn't told her that he had one. Of course, since when did that man know anything about openness and honesty? In their last therapy session, he'd actually tried to say that he really did want a relationship of transparency and mutual respect! She'd almost gagged then and now, her mouth threatened to overflow with vomit.

She clicked the 'Add Friend' button and was told her request had been sent. Not willing to wait, she clicked on his name - "Zeus Bolten" - and found herself looking at a page that looked like it was created by GQ. His personal page had a huge picture of himself at the top and in small print, under his name, it said, "Friend to All". Friend to all, indeed! Wasn't that just the problem? He had way too many "friends!" Scrolling down, she found more pictures of him. The uppermost one showed him in his tennis gear, holding a racket, his brown hair perfectly styled and his clear hazel eyes smiling at the camera. Then underneath the picture, she saw several symbols. She'd heard about the infamous 'Like' button from friends and it looked like several people had liked that picture. Right beside the little thumb icon, it said, "Eros and 17 others". She clicked on the line and saw a list of all those who had 'Liked' this particular picture.

Reading through, she got angrier and angrier. "Demeter?!...DEMETER likes his picture?! That BITCH!" she shrieked, spittle flying from her mouth. "As if she hasn't done enough, having that little Persephone brat! And now she's liking my husband's facebook pictures?!" Incensed, she grabbed a mug off her desk and threw it against the wall, the sound of shattering porcelain music to her ears.

Turning back to the screen, she continued looking at the list of likers. "Alcmene?...Danaë?...Dione?!" Thoroughly enraged, she stood up, knocking her chair down in the process. "What the fuck is THIS shit?!...He's got all his fuckin' babies mamas on his damn page, liking his pictures, now!" Pacing back and forth, her green eyes glared everytime they landed on the screen.

"Honey", she mimicked in a male voice, "they meant nothing to me; it just happened!" Switching back to her own voice, she answered, "How the fuck can it just happen?! What?! Did you just fall into their pussies, Z?!" Storming across the room, she grabbed their wedding picture from the bedside stand and smashed it on the floor, stomping on it until her left foot was bloody. Not caring, she continued her rant, "And I guess they just happened to 'Like' your facebook picture, too, huh?" She marched back over to her laptop and found his list of Friends. Yep, there they all were, Demeter, Alcmene, Danaë, and all the rest. ALL THE REST!

Feeling herself about to completely go off the deep end, Hera marched over to her ornate gold mirror and looked at herself. Her perfectly coiffed hair had come partially undone and she had ruby all over her mouth, not just on her lips. Her cheeks were a bright red and she could practically see the steam coming from her ears. She did as her therapist counseled and counted to 100. It didn't help. She was still livid!

Sitting back at her laptop, she saw a new post on Zeus' page. It was from Hercules and was a video of that Beyoncé woman, singing some song. She knew Zeus found the celebrity to be quite intriguing and she did NOT want any little Zeuslettes running around, singing on-stage in a few years. She had a mind to turn the star into a donkey - You like all that ass, Zeus, I'll give you ass, alright! - but that wouldn't do for these times. Pondering for a moment, she had another idea.

Heading into the bath to get cleaned up, she smiled. Zeus and the celebrity-watchers would never know what hit them.

17
4
17
Juice
91 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Craft a story about an old god (or some kind of divinity) in a contemporary environment. Put Thor in a college frat. Let Anubis run a morgue. Have Apollo start his own shoes company to rival Nike’s. The possibilities are endless, but make sure you show both mythological depth and wit!
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Fantasy
Uh-Oh!
Well, the beautiful red-head thought, staring at her laptop, this facebook thing has been going on for quite a while, now. I guess it's high time I got an account, so I can see what all the raving is about. Into the browser, she typed 'facebook.com' and after what seemed a lifetime, but was really only a couple of seconds, she was greeted with the social site's home page.

"Create An Account", the screen said, so she typed in her information. Under 'first name', she dutifully typed, "Hera" and then paused a moment, wondering what to type in under 'last name'. After a moment of thought, she typed in "Famila". Where the screen requested her 'mobile number or email', she put in "GoddessofallH@Olympus.org" and where her password should go, she filled in "no1shal1defy.M3", then paused again at the next box.

"Birthdate?" she asked herself. Of course she knew it, but she didn't want to reveal her real age and what did they know, anyway? She pursed her ruby red lips, then selected "Jan 1, 1990". It's not like they'd actually check the information and if they did, so what? It wasn't like they could really do anything. Next, she selected, "Female" - as if there was any doubt! - and clicked on "Create Account". After another brief moment, the screen asked for her to verify her email address. She skipped it and found herself looking at a page that requested she 'Add Friends'. Skipping that option, as well, she found herself being asked for yet more information!

"Good Olympus", she sighed, impatiently. Skipping the first two sections - 'Search your email for friends already on Facebook' and 'Get to know your privacy settings' - she decided to respond to the third request, the one asking for a Profile picture. Of COURSE all of this facebook should know what she looks like, she smirked, then selected a lovely picture of herself in evening wear, taken from this past spring's Lightning Gala.

This time when she was greeted with 'Add people you know', she figured she should, so she could show herself off to all of her family and friends; wouldn't they all be surprised to see she'd finally gotten herself a facebook page?! Scrolling the list, she was stopped short when she saw the name 'Zeus'.

Wait! Her breathing increased. No, no. It couldn't be. Zeus couldn't have a facebook account! He hadn't told her that he had one. Of course, since when did that man know anything about openness and honesty? In their last therapy session, he'd actually tried to say that he really did want a relationship of transparency and mutual respect! She'd almost gagged then and now, her mouth threatened to overflow with vomit.

She clicked the 'Add Friend' button and was told her request had been sent. Not willing to wait, she clicked on his name - "Zeus Bolten" - and found herself looking at a page that looked like it was created by GQ. His personal page had a huge picture of himself at the top and in small print, under his name, it said, "Friend to All". Friend to all, indeed! Wasn't that just the problem? He had way too many "friends!" Scrolling down, she found more pictures of him. The uppermost one showed him in his tennis gear, holding a racket, his brown hair perfectly styled and his clear hazel eyes smiling at the camera. Then underneath the picture, she saw several symbols. She'd heard about the infamous 'Like' button from friends and it looked like several people had liked that picture. Right beside the little thumb icon, it said, "Eros and 17 others". She clicked on the line and saw a list of all those who had 'Liked' this particular picture.

Reading through, she got angrier and angrier. "Demeter?!...DEMETER likes his picture?! That BITCH!" she shrieked, spittle flying from her mouth. "As if she hasn't done enough, having that little Persephone brat! And now she's liking my husband's facebook pictures?!" Incensed, she grabbed a mug off her desk and threw it against the wall, the sound of shattering porcelain music to her ears.

Turning back to the screen, she continued looking at the list of likers. "Alcmene?...Danaë?...Dione?!" Thoroughly enraged, she stood up, knocking her chair down in the process. "What the fuck is THIS shit?!...He's got all his fuckin' babies mamas on his damn page, liking his pictures, now!" Pacing back and forth, her green eyes glared everytime they landed on the screen.

"Honey", she mimicked in a male voice, "they meant nothing to me; it just happened!" Switching back to her own voice, she answered, "How the fuck can it just happen?! What?! Did you just fall into their pussies, Z?!" Storming across the room, she grabbed their wedding picture from the bedside stand and smashed it on the floor, stomping on it until her left foot was bloody. Not caring, she continued her rant, "And I guess they just happened to 'Like' your facebook picture, too, huh?" She marched back over to her laptop and found his list of Friends. Yep, there they all were, Demeter, Alcmene, Danaë, and all the rest. ALL THE REST!

Feeling herself about to completely go off the deep end, Hera marched over to her ornate gold mirror and looked at herself. Her perfectly coiffed hair had come partially undone and she had ruby all over her mouth, not just on her lips. Her cheeks were a bright red and she could practically see the steam coming from her ears. She did as her therapist counseled and counted to 100. It didn't help. She was still livid!

Sitting back at her laptop, she saw a new post on Zeus' page. It was from Hercules and was a video of that Beyoncé woman, singing some song. She knew Zeus found the celebrity to be quite intriguing and she did NOT want any little Zeuslettes running around, singing on-stage in a few years. She had a mind to turn the star into a donkey - You like all that ass, Zeus, I'll give you ass, alright! - but that wouldn't do for these times. Pondering for a moment, she had another idea.

Heading into the bath to get cleaned up, she smiled. Zeus and the celebrity-watchers would never know what hit them.
17
4
17
Juice
91 reads
Load 17 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Write any piece of literary work that breaks as many writing "rules" as possible! Don't forget to tag me @HashtagFiction so I can read!
Written by Tee_Hi

my Weak End, at ohio

So, this passed friday. I wented 2 ohio for my Daughters her graduation and um. bridal shower their. I left on friday afternoon and taked the 4 o'clock MegaBus they're no thats not right I actually was supposed to take the 4pm. Bus. But it was late so I took the bus when it finally arrived at 430pm and even thin it didnt leave til 430pm

and then it drived slow and than we stopped at a rest stop and The driver told us we has 20 minutes too shop but it is 45 minutes before he pulled off and the he drived slow again and it took a thousand & 5 years to get there and then by the time we got to Cleveland it was actually 130 in the am when the bus. Was supposed to have arrived at 1150pm So it was over a hour and an half late and so i off i blew steam out my ears and I barely gotted any sleep since we getted up at 815am to ready for the shower but i had tosseded and turneded alot during the night so i actually only had about 4hrs of sleep strate and then a coupl'a hours off sleep? Of and on. but then my daughter, she woked Me and said's your gonna b late if you keep sleepin so i getted up.

Sowefinallygotup on saturday and went to the shower and it were alot of fun -- we drinked mimosas and eated pulled pork sammiches like there was no tomorrow and fresh fruit and ated some Cupcakes. Two! and at the shower we also played games too as well and also i wonned one of the games but thats not important cuz it how you play the game that counts. and the prize was a banana bread loaf and we played Clue butt i didnt when that game cuz my daughter, she did, Then after the shower we wented back to the house & I tooked a nap since I (had barely gotted any)

sleep that nite befour. And after the nap I and my daughter and her's boyfriend went to a place that were called The think box and they gived me a tower of the. place. i gots to see the woodwoking are a and the metleworking place and i even taked sum scraps. with me. so thened we went back to the townhome and just stayed up

and eated and talk til abouts [3] in the am So then we woked up on sundae and whilst my daughter and her's bf went to Bible study i stayed bhind and wash the dishes and taked my shower & call my bf and then when. they got back? we drived to the gradiation. the gradu'ation were good and i was {sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo proud of} her win she walkeded acrossed the stage and i screamt and yellt my head off like it were the end of the world when she did and off. course i tooked some good pitchers? two. then sundae nightwe went out to eat and the Food was sooooooo well and i eated tilled i was bout too burst" but i didnt burst so that was well also too And. every body had a gooded thyme and thend we wentd back to the home (and so. that was the end of] sunday.

oh weight i forgot? we also gived her her gifs and her really like what she gotted a hole lots. and much too also. So then today which.

were monday i had two get up like really really really really really really really early so's to catch the bus cuz it leaved at 8am; in the morning' but at least this driver were better cuz he were on time and he did what he saids he was gonna does. so after riding and napping and playing on me laptop and uh talking on the phone and stuff like that i mades it back to illinoise and my bf meets me at the busstop and we camed home and i is sooooooooooooooooo well to be back cuz i missed him and my dog and its great to be back now and. that were what i dids. this Weekend/

11
5
13
Juice
56 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Write any piece of literary work that breaks as many writing "rules" as possible! Don't forget to tag me @HashtagFiction so I can read!
Written by Tee_Hi
my Weak End, at ohio
So, this passed friday. I wented 2 ohio for my Daughters her graduation and um. bridal shower their. I left on friday afternoon and taked the 4 o'clock MegaBus they're no thats not right I actually was supposed to take the 4pm. Bus. But it was late so I took the bus when it finally arrived at 430pm and even thin it didnt leave til 430pm
and then it drived slow and than we stopped at a rest stop and The driver told us we has 20 minutes too shop but it is 45 minutes before he pulled off and the he drived slow again and it took a thousand & 5 years to get there and then by the time we got to Cleveland it was actually 130 in the am when the bus. Was supposed to have arrived at 1150pm So it was over a hour and an half late and so i off i blew steam out my ears and I barely gotted any sleep since we getted up at 815am to ready for the shower but i had tosseded and turneded alot during the night so i actually only had about 4hrs of sleep strate and then a coupl'a hours off sleep? Of and on. but then my daughter, she woked Me and said's your gonna b late if you keep sleepin so i getted up.
Sowefinallygotup on saturday and went to the shower and it were alot of fun -- we drinked mimosas and eated pulled pork sammiches like there was no tomorrow and fresh fruit and ated some Cupcakes. Two! and at the shower we also played games too as well and also i wonned one of the games but thats not important cuz it how you play the game that counts. and the prize was a banana bread loaf and we played Clue butt i didnt when that game cuz my daughter, she did, Then after the shower we wented back to the house & I tooked a nap since I (had barely gotted any)

sleep that nite befour. And after the nap I and my daughter and her's boyfriend went to a place that were called The think box and they gived me a tower of the. place. i gots to see the woodwoking are a and the metleworking place and i even taked sum scraps. with me. so thened we went back to the townhome and just stayed up
and eated and talk til abouts [3] in the am So then we woked up on sundae and whilst my daughter and her's bf went to Bible study i stayed bhind and wash the dishes and taked my shower & call my bf and then when. they got back? we drived to the gradiation. the gradu'ation were good and i was {sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo proud of} her win she walkeded acrossed the stage and i screamt and yellt my head off like it were the end of the world when she did and off. course i tooked some good pitchers? two. then sundae nightwe went out to eat and the Food was sooooooo well and i eated tilled i was bout too burst" but i didnt burst so that was well also too And. every body had a gooded thyme and thend we wentd back to the home (and so. that was the end of] sunday.
oh weight i forgot? we also gived her her gifs and her really like what she gotted a hole lots. and much too also. So then today which.

were monday i had two get up like really really really really really really really early so's to catch the bus cuz it leaved at 8am; in the morning' but at least this driver were better cuz he were on time and he did what he saids he was gonna does. so after riding and napping and playing on me laptop and uh talking on the phone and stuff like that i mades it back to illinoise and my bf meets me at the busstop and we camed home and i is sooooooooooooooooo well to be back cuz i missed him and my dog and its great to be back now and. that were what i dids. this Weekend/
11
5
13
Juice
56 reads
Load 13 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Simon & Schuster

The Skin They're In (or: ColorBlind)

CHAPTER ONE

DIJAH

For the first time in her now-16 years, Khadijah Thompson's first thought upon awakening on her born day anniversary was not Happy Birthday to Me. Today, she greeted her slightly-older reflection with, "Tomorrow, I become a white woman". She didn't say it with either excitement or apprehension, but with more of a clinical detachment.

Taking in her dark chocolate skin, a color that Bruno's Chocolates would envy for sure, she spoke to her image. "Tomorrow, the surgery to make my skin white begins." She put her face right up to her reflection, dissecting every inch of herself, from hairline to chin. "Tomorrow, they'll take my wide nose and make it thinner." She sniffed. "I wonder if it'll hurt." Putting a hand to her mouth, she gently touched her plump, garnet-tinged lips with the tips of her fingers. "They'll make my lips thinner, too." She zoomed in on her eyes. "At least they’ll leave my eyes alone. I love their hazel color and long lashes."

Stepping slightly back, she raked a hand over her tight cornrows. "I wonder what they'll do with my hair. I hope it gets to keep its dark auburn color." Stepping further back still, she dropped her blue robe to the floor and took in her naked form. Cupping her breasts in her hands, she wondered, "Will these stay the same size?" Turning sideways, she looked at the buttocks that had been admired by so many boys in school. "And what about my BUTT? Will they take some of it away?!"

Looking at herself top to bottom, she wondered one final thing. "Will I still...be ME?"

She thought of everyone she knew and having to leave them for the next two years, the better to function as a Caucasian before deciding on her permanent "color". Her parents were proud that she'd volunteered for the experiment. It wasn't that they weren't proud of their heritage - in fact, they were very proud of it - but they also realized the need for man to see outside of their skin tones and if trying on another ethnicity was a step in that direction, they were all for it. But other people were a different story.

Her bestie, Shantilly, stood by her side, even if she didn't quite understand her decision at first. "But, WHY, Dijah?" she had asked. "I thought you were proud of being a strong sister!"

"I was...I am. And that's why I have to do this! I have to show that regardless of my color, I'm still me!"

Shantilly nodded, pursing her pink lips. "I hear you." She paused peeling her orange, her chewed nails making the job that much more difficult. "If I wasn't ultra-light already, I might just try it, too."

Loquacia, on the other hand, had shown her true colors. "I knew it. I am SO not surprised. I always knew you wanted to be a white girl and now you get to be one." She pointed her purple lollipop in Dijah's direction. "Watch. Your two years of 'trying it' - and HOW does one even 'try on' another color, anyhow? - will end up with you staying white! You ain't no real sister." She planted a caramel hand on her jean-clad hip and tapped her purple nails on her upper thigh.

"Yes, I am, Quacia. And that's why I have to do this! I have to show that I'm more than just a skin color! Why can't you see that?"

"Girl, please. You don't have to turn into some whitie bread to do that."

Before Dijah could say more, her so-called friend was gone, strutting across the cafeteria to go sit with a couple of other girls. Malycia, Tyrineice, and Nina had all turned their backs on her, too. Only Tilly and her sister, Vette, stuck by her.

She sighed. Better to know now who was really in her camp than to be disappointed later. She pursed her lips at herself. I really hope they leave my lips alone, though.

ANDREW

One week after going through the surgery, Andre - formerly known as Andrew Maxmillion Rutherford IV - opened his eyes and again saw nothing but white. White walls, white tables, even the talkie box had a white frame. Everything was white. Laughable, since today was the day the bandages would come off and he'd see his new, black, face.

He didn't feel any different. But then, had he really expected to? Had he really thought he'd go from stuffy, preppy, white-bread Andrew to cool homie, Andre, in a flash? If he was being honest with himself, he kind of thought he would. Besides wanting to take a stand against racism, he also wanted to see what it would be like to be a cool brother...But wasn't that, in itself, racist? Wasn't that thought right there thinking in terms of stereotypes? Who said only 'brothas' could dance, jump high, and spit lines like a mutha' (Eminem being the exception, of course)?

His father and friends sure didn't think highly of his decision. His father just about hit the ceiling when he told him what he'd signed up for.

"No son of mine is going to walk around in a black boy's body!"

"Father, it's only for two ye-"

"I wouldn't give a shit if it was for two minutes!" Andrew III ran a hand through his short dark blonde hair before pointing a finger at his son. "Tell them you changed your mind!"

Andrew stood his ground. "I won't, father. You'll see. This IS a good thing! And I thought you always taught me that all men are created equal."

His father curled his bottom lip before stabbing his half-chomped cigar into an empty yellow saucer on the counter. "They are. Some are just more equal. We are more equal. We come from a long line of Rutherfords and I won't have you sullying our name like this!"

Andrew looked at the veins popping from his father's forehead and straining to escape his neck. Even at such a tense moment, he had to keep from laughing, as his father looked just like one of those cartoons, turning red with indignation.

"Then you'll he happy to know, father, that as part of the program, I'll be moving across the country for the two-year duration. That way, I can fully immerse myself into my new...uh-" The look on his father's face stopped him mid-sentence.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Andrew cleared his throat. "Meanwhile, I'll go stay with Aunt Heather. She understands!"

And that was the last he'd talked to his father. Sadly, his best friends were no better.

Thomas J. Richener III and Harold P. Quinton, Jr. looked at him like he'd fallen off the oft-mentioned turnip truck.

"You're going to do WHAT?!" they'd said in unison. They could never agree on anything. Leave this to be the one thing where they'd come together.

"Oh, c'mon, you guys. We have black friends, for crying out loud!"

"True," Thomas said, straightening out his yellow sweater vest. "But having black friends and becoming black are two completely separate things."

Harold nodded, a lock of red hair falling into his dark brown eyes. "I like them well enough, but Andrew...this is really pushing it, man."

"I can not believe what I'm hearing! Haven't we always stood up for others, even when we ended up bullied ourselves? How many rallies have we gone to? How many petitions for change have we signed?"

"That's all well and good, A, but why do you have to become one of them?"

"To prove that I can have any face at all, be it white, black, yellow, purple, or green, and still be me because it's what's on the inside that counts."

That was two months ago. His friends hadn't brought it up again and neither had he, but after that, there was always a bit of tension in the air when they got together. Then, at his born day anniversary celebration last week, Harold had told him he still didn't agree, but maybe he could try some black pussy and let them know how it was.

Andrew shook his head at the memory. He loved his friends dearly, but now he could see what douches they could be.

Turning his head, he looked at the night stand and saw the picture of his former face smiling from the little 5x7 frame his nurse had placed there. He wasn't a bad-looking guy at all. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, dimples, just the kind of all-American white face America loved, while giving lip service to the idea of a "great melting pot". He'd exchanged the slick blonde hair for coarse black hair, the blue eyes for brown ones, and his trim nose for a slightly wider one.

Then a new thought occurred to him...Hmmm. I wonder if my schlong is bigger now.

17
5
0
Juice
80 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
Cancel
Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Simon & Schuster
The Skin They're In (or: ColorBlind)
CHAPTER ONE

DIJAH

For the first time in her now-16 years, Khadijah Thompson's first thought upon awakening on her born day anniversary was not Happy Birthday to Me. Today, she greeted her slightly-older reflection with, "Tomorrow, I become a white woman". She didn't say it with either excitement or apprehension, but with more of a clinical detachment.

Taking in her dark chocolate skin, a color that Bruno's Chocolates would envy for sure, she spoke to her image. "Tomorrow, the surgery to make my skin white begins." She put her face right up to her reflection, dissecting every inch of herself, from hairline to chin. "Tomorrow, they'll take my wide nose and make it thinner." She sniffed. "I wonder if it'll hurt." Putting a hand to her mouth, she gently touched her plump, garnet-tinged lips with the tips of her fingers. "They'll make my lips thinner, too." She zoomed in on her eyes. "At least they’ll leave my eyes alone. I love their hazel color and long lashes."

Stepping slightly back, she raked a hand over her tight cornrows. "I wonder what they'll do with my hair. I hope it gets to keep its dark auburn color." Stepping further back still, she dropped her blue robe to the floor and took in her naked form. Cupping her breasts in her hands, she wondered, "Will these stay the same size?" Turning sideways, she looked at the buttocks that had been admired by so many boys in school. "And what about my BUTT? Will they take some of it away?!"

Looking at herself top to bottom, she wondered one final thing. "Will I still...be ME?"

She thought of everyone she knew and having to leave them for the next two years, the better to function as a Caucasian before deciding on her permanent "color". Her parents were proud that she'd volunteered for the experiment. It wasn't that they weren't proud of their heritage - in fact, they were very proud of it - but they also realized the need for man to see outside of their skin tones and if trying on another ethnicity was a step in that direction, they were all for it. But other people were a different story.

Her bestie, Shantilly, stood by her side, even if she didn't quite understand her decision at first. "But, WHY, Dijah?" she had asked. "I thought you were proud of being a strong sister!"

"I was...I am. And that's why I have to do this! I have to show that regardless of my color, I'm still me!"

Shantilly nodded, pursing her pink lips. "I hear you." She paused peeling her orange, her chewed nails making the job that much more difficult. "If I wasn't ultra-light already, I might just try it, too."

Loquacia, on the other hand, had shown her true colors. "I knew it. I am SO not surprised. I always knew you wanted to be a white girl and now you get to be one." She pointed her purple lollipop in Dijah's direction. "Watch. Your two years of 'trying it' - and HOW does one even 'try on' another color, anyhow? - will end up with you staying white! You ain't no real sister." She planted a caramel hand on her jean-clad hip and tapped her purple nails on her upper thigh.

"Yes, I am, Quacia. And that's why I have to do this! I have to show that I'm more than just a skin color! Why can't you see that?"

"Girl, please. You don't have to turn into some whitie bread to do that."

Before Dijah could say more, her so-called friend was gone, strutting across the cafeteria to go sit with a couple of other girls. Malycia, Tyrineice, and Nina had all turned their backs on her, too. Only Tilly and her sister, Vette, stuck by her.

She sighed. Better to know now who was really in her camp than to be disappointed later. She pursed her lips at herself. I really hope they leave my lips alone, though.


ANDREW

One week after going through the surgery, Andre - formerly known as Andrew Maxmillion Rutherford IV - opened his eyes and again saw nothing but white. White walls, white tables, even the talkie box had a white frame. Everything was white. Laughable, since today was the day the bandages would come off and he'd see his new, black, face.

He didn't feel any different. But then, had he really expected to? Had he really thought he'd go from stuffy, preppy, white-bread Andrew to cool homie, Andre, in a flash? If he was being honest with himself, he kind of thought he would. Besides wanting to take a stand against racism, he also wanted to see what it would be like to be a cool brother...But wasn't that, in itself, racist? Wasn't that thought right there thinking in terms of stereotypes? Who said only 'brothas' could dance, jump high, and spit lines like a mutha' (Eminem being the exception, of course)?

His father and friends sure didn't think highly of his decision. His father just about hit the ceiling when he told him what he'd signed up for.

"No son of mine is going to walk around in a black boy's body!"

"Father, it's only for two ye-"

"I wouldn't give a shit if it was for two minutes!" Andrew III ran a hand through his short dark blonde hair before pointing a finger at his son. "Tell them you changed your mind!"

Andrew stood his ground. "I won't, father. You'll see. This IS a good thing! And I thought you always taught me that all men are created equal."

His father curled his bottom lip before stabbing his half-chomped cigar into an empty yellow saucer on the counter. "They are. Some are just more equal. We are more equal. We come from a long line of Rutherfords and I won't have you sullying our name like this!"

Andrew looked at the veins popping from his father's forehead and straining to escape his neck. Even at such a tense moment, he had to keep from laughing, as his father looked just like one of those cartoons, turning red with indignation.

"Then you'll he happy to know, father, that as part of the program, I'll be moving across the country for the two-year duration. That way, I can fully immerse myself into my new...uh-" The look on his father's face stopped him mid-sentence.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Andrew cleared his throat. "Meanwhile, I'll go stay with Aunt Heather. She understands!"

And that was the last he'd talked to his father. Sadly, his best friends were no better.

Thomas J. Richener III and Harold P. Quinton, Jr. looked at him like he'd fallen off the oft-mentioned turnip truck.

"You're going to do WHAT?!" they'd said in unison. They could never agree on anything. Leave this to be the one thing where they'd come together.

"Oh, c'mon, you guys. We have black friends, for crying out loud!"

"True," Thomas said, straightening out his yellow sweater vest. "But having black friends and becoming black are two completely separate things."

Harold nodded, a lock of red hair falling into his dark brown eyes. "I like them well enough, but Andrew...this is really pushing it, man."

"I can not believe what I'm hearing! Haven't we always stood up for others, even when we ended up bullied ourselves? How many rallies have we gone to? How many petitions for change have we signed?"

"That's all well and good, A, but why do you have to become one of them?"

"To prove that I can have any face at all, be it white, black, yellow, purple, or green, and still be me because it's what's on the inside that counts."

That was two months ago. His friends hadn't brought it up again and neither had he, but after that, there was always a bit of tension in the air when they got together. Then, at his born day anniversary celebration last week, Harold had told him he still didn't agree, but maybe he could try some black pussy and let them know how it was.

Andrew shook his head at the memory. He loved his friends dearly, but now he could see what douches they could be.

Turning his head, he looked at the night stand and saw the picture of his former face smiling from the little 5x7 frame his nurse had placed there. He wasn't a bad-looking guy at all. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, dimples, just the kind of all-American white face America loved, while giving lip service to the idea of a "great melting pot". He'd exchanged the slick blonde hair for coarse black hair, the blue eyes for brown ones, and his trim nose for a slightly wider one.

Then a new thought occurred to him...Hmmm. I wonder if my schlong is bigger now.
17
5
0
Juice
80 reads
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)