The wood is real-- tacky and solid under my clenching grip. I think I am two today. Maybe younger, it's hard to tell. Mom and dasd call me their baby. Brothers call me little miss. I think I must be in the middle of that age somewhere.

But this table, this table is sure. It's oak, and glossy. My younger-older brother is always fisting at it, tracking the indents with his fingertips. My oldest-older brother doesnt care for it, but I don't know why. I can see in the wood-- right here, you see-- where his fingerprints are. Mom cares for the mess- but my dad tells her were only young once, and we can buy new furniture.

I agree, as I move my hands along the wooden lip for a better grip. My favourite song is playing, and my mom is smiling at me so proudly. I'm not doing anything, really, I'm just bouncing up and down. Brothers call it dancing, and I think I like it even if I don't know what that is.

But this table-- it tells me what to do. It tells me how when my fingerprints match my brothers' that I am moving right. It tells me when I make bigger stains then they could that I'll be an artist.

This table-- I have built cities with play dough, and made messes with my food from bright plastic plates. I have taken adult scissors to my hair and botched it, and grabbed my dog's toy from beneath when she couldn't reach it. This table shares my laughter, tears, firsts and lasts.

This table is as much me as I am.

Silence cascaded upon us like a heavy rain.

Though with nothing to say at the moment—

both, his & her expressions are saying everything we need to know.

Although I, myself & the couple nearby, weren’t enthusiastic about wanting to know anything. That’s when she spoke one sentence. A line so simple… one could never imagine it making the hair on Zack’s arms stand up or anyone’s arms, at that.

“Oh how those god-damn tables turned”, Arlie stated.

That sentence shocked Zack, his eyes grew big & his face contorted, as if he was hit with an electrical current. Not a word was ushered in response to Arlie. Like this wasn’t uncomfortable enough seeing two people argue the way they were, just minutes ago, the moments of silence made it more unbearable. I’m not sure if I should sneak into the shadows of this house & make a run for it or just stand here with the other two people, while they naw at their nails with nervousness.

“Wouldn't you know Zack, I was right… I wished this wouldn’t ever pan out to be true. Every day…I wished this shit was just me creating crazy scenarios in my mind like you tried to make me believe. This whole time you fucking lied. You stole-

Zack interrupted her, “I never stole the amounts of money you blamed me for stealing.”

“I don’t even care about money right now, Zack! What you stole was so much fucking worse. You stole hearts from two different woman. You demolished a marriage… & not even to me, to your poor wife! The fucking worst part about this, you ruined the chance for two innocent babies from being able to see both parents together! Your nephew & your niece, nice cover story! They’re your kids! My dignity is stolen & now I’m the one standing here feeling the guilt for everything that you put your secret family though! All while you lived a double life the past year. You smiled, laughed & truly acted like you didn’t have a whole life in another state. You traveled back and forth from work and it was you going home”, she yelled.

Trying his best to act like he had no idea what Arlie was saying, he shook his head back & forth, “I can’t do this with you. Brent, let’s go. I‘m not getting into her car” he said, as he pointed at Arlie.

Before Zack could put one foot in front of the other, Brent walked towards him.

“Go fuck yourself, Dude”. We might be friends… were friends, but that’s because Arlie introduced us. You can burn in hell for everything she is saying you’ve done.”

Do I look at them? My mind is ready to explode over everything happening. This is what you see on Lifetime movies, not in real life with a friend, I thought to myself.

Arlie’s eyes looked like half moons, glowing with anger as she clenched her teeth together, “See how these tables turned? Well, I hope you find a comfortable place to sit, here or in hell, since you created a forever shit-storm for yourself. I’m just one woman whose life, you stole for a year. I clearly can’t turn enough tables in your life to make… or should I say your two lives to make it equal the pain you caused for two women & the pain you’re going to cause for your children, I’m sure! When karma turns tables, that means you will get what you deserve.“

That’s it, I can’t stand here wondering what I should do. I ran to Arlie, grabbed her arm and walked her towards Brent & Foresst. She was powerless and if I wasn’t holding her by the arm, I think she would have been on the floor.

Her eyes reminded me of two water fountains; the pools of the fountains filled up with tears, just to stream down her face. They kept flowing, as if the water was being recycled, over and over.

“Fore, take her to the car. Brent can you grab Arlie’s stuff from the kitchen, I think it’s on the table or the countertop, while your girlfriend gets her out of here?” I ordered.

I turned around so fast, I didn’t have time to calculate the use of my word arsenal from that point, moving forward. Walking towards Zack, I took one breath in & couldn’t even remember if I let it out. I was pissed.

“You made people…not many people, but some people, actually believe you were this great guy who’s new to the area, who happened to fall in love with a girl that acted one way in public & another way in private. Arlie is who she is, she’s a lot smarter than anyone of us because she figured this shit out. You screwed your self. Arlie & your wife, will find happiness & live a good life when they get over this. You will never be happy. You will never have a good life, since you want to try & live many lives. It won’t be long until everyone finds out. There’s no such thing as secrets being kept around here.”

I turned around to walk away, grabbing my purse off the table I heard him mumble under his breath. I stopped in my tracks about to turn around, but I decided against it. I need to get out of here.

It's where the fist is pounding

silently, invisibly

against the place setting

of plates, gone missing

jumping into space, juggling

empty like a stomach grumbling

There are four seats, uncushioned

and each is mentally taken, rigid

yet for all twenty something feet

only two can still walk away

from the puddle spreading

and the shade of home

and work never charted,

that draft felt con-

versation turned

away with cutlery

and hidden, under

like a rooftop, clothed

for prayers, muttered

before the Supper, which

we were all called to offer

09.17.2023

Tables challenge @Igbaum

Those who can’t draw, table

Yes, that’s how they’re able

Ever drew a curve, and missed the swerve

Straight lines, baby, they soothe the nerve

Unlike curvatures that don’t seem to end

And most unlikely for its owner to find a friend

A line in a table begins, with twins, to finish

The proud producer who proves that paste is panache

Hey, table makers everywhere, stand be proud

So, art critics didn’t want your zigzagged lines around

You can’t draw moon or sun, face of a daughter or a son

But one table can set in motion everything everywhere that needs done

So, the tables are replicas of each other, taller or shorter

Same table, different data, the smarter the sorter

But look how many circles are unfamiliar, sometimes sillier

And how many tables people look at, the filler or the killer

What can I say? I like tables, doodled them to a kill

With time on my hand, tables were a way its void to fill

Seeing them everywhere, billboards in the air, wish they were more of use

Still want to draw a circle, but I wouldn’t wish on my frenemy that sort of abuse

Tables are truly humanity's greatest achievement.

I admire the rich oak of my dining table, marveling over its polish. The kitchen table's painted mahogany shines with great luster, shimmering under the spotlight it deserves.

The ground is blessed to host the legs of so many of such divine creations. For every wooden, plastic, metal leg that graces the floor, the earth is blessed with three lifetimes of blessings. Luck and karma are but trivial blessings for the tables to grant.

Tables are the sole recipient of my eternal worship. There exist many a reason, from their stunning structure to the masterpiece that is their utility.

But more important than any other reason, however, is their capability to lift.

Bugs and spiders crawl their way across the floors, dirtying them with their abhorrent appearance. Each movement they make curses the gift from the divine, daring to spit on the grace the gods have given us.

But tables keep their influence from spreading, and allow human hands to touch uncontaminated possessions.

Oh tables, how absolutely stunning you are...

Tables are set

For conditions met

To state the reality

Of eventuality

They predict how much I'll weigh

And how much I sleep each day

They tell me how many children I'll love

In whole numbers and fractions thereof

They'll assign the risk of my cancers

Incurable ones and the ones with answers

They summate, equate, fabricate, and colligate

The disparate elements that they so dutifully tabulate

Statistics can lie for those who deceive

To make sure they pay out less than receive

Numbers tell insurers how much to charge

Based on lies from the thieving bastards at large

Who can argue with expert consultants?

Who can challenge their covert resultants?

Life, major medical, term and whole

Are the stuff of big companies, but we pay the toll

They sell seduction of protection from disability

As long-term and short-term pseudoliability

Denial and rejection and refusal to pay

Are the first hundred steps in Appeals for their prey

They're setting my table and the food that I eat

Based on the numbers they line up to cheat

Their self-serving conclusions are magisterial

Because the tables they set are actuarial

It's a whole different world they live in I see

One of, "Maybe for you — but double for me"

A win-lose, faux-brainer, they live very well

Before sent to their place, specially reserved, in Hell

If you make a mistake in your writing, fear not because it's ediTable

If you received Elvis collector plates for Christmas, smile and remember that the tacky things are regifTable.

Shallowgenepool can best be described as unsTable and untrusTable. Much of what he writes is unrepeaTable and deleaTable. He should be ashamed to write things so conTemptable. Certainly what the freak writes is unprinTable. Someone should kick him off of TheProse because his writing could make the site unrepuTable.

If it's green, leafy, and cultivaTable, it might be a vegeTable. If it's also yummy it's delecTable. Conversely, if it tastes yucky it's unpalaTable. It is therefore, uneaTable.

If you ended up with dysentery after a weekend of debauchery in Tijuana, it's because you drank unpoTable water. If during afore mentioned trip to Tijuana you get crabs from a clandestine meeting with a $5 prostitute, you're likely very uncomforTable and irriTable. If the meeting with the prostitute also led to bringing gonorrhea home as a souvenir, that's just regretTable. To get treatment, you go to the doctor and you have to explain you hold yourself accounTable for bringing home the clap that doesn't require hands. To avoid this happening again, the next time you're horny and sexually exciTable, you'll find the kind of date that's inflaTable. If you're sating your animal lust on a boat and you fall in, your date is also floaTable.

Seeing bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster would definitely be noTable.

If you've ever eaten gov'ment cheese, you know that it's not melTable.

If you like blowing things up, you enjoy all things deTonatable.

I awoke to the sound of beeping. White. Everything was white. And...crying? Then clearer—someone weeping in the corner, someone...familiar. A lady wearing white comforted her.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do. She's braindead."

Poor woman. I tried to sit up to comfort her, but...nothing's moving. I felt cold as realization struck me.

Mom!

The nurse ushered Mom out, then walked towards me. I desperately tried making eye contact, telling her I wasn't braindead, but she wouldn't look at me. A wild fear built up inside of me. Stop!

She pulled a plug from the wall, and everything went black.