59yo woman from a little town in New Jersey. Medical editor by day. Love animals and all things creepy. Inside my brain you’ll find dinosaurs, haunted houses, spaceships, dancing skeletons, and fudge sundaes. She/her.
59yo woman from a little town in New Jersey. Medical editor by day. Love animals and all things creepy. Inside my brain you’ll find dinosaurs, haunted houses, spaceships, dancing skeletons, and fudge sundaes. She/her.
January is frikkin cold Wawa coffee keeps me bold.
February, the month of love, yo Still gonna be some snow.
March, wet and windy, but snow Sometimes gives a low blow.
April showers drop the wooder On them flowers so pretty like sugar.
In May the sun will shine Soon the Jersey shore will be divine.
In June the Phillies will run the bases As we watch from the stands, the sun in our faces.
July brings the heat But walking down a Shore can’t be beat.
August the sun is still bright But Back to school sales are in sight!
September the pumpkins appear And there’s a cool breeze coming near
October, the best month with spooky lore My birthday, and witches and ghosts at the door!
November can be cold, gray and dull But at the Thanksgiving table our hearts are quite full!
December, a month of gifts and good food Will end the year in a festive mood.
I knew right away when my fingers curled around the fabric, I had found my old prom dress, and my heart just broke to pieces.
Why had I kept this so long? I wondered.
I remembered that night, and Joe, the happiness we shared for a few brief hours.
There was the summer after the prom. Joe went to college across the country; I stayed in Centerville, got a job, threw my dreams away. He married someone else. I married Bob. Happy enough I guess.
I pulled out the dress. Faded over the years.
With a sigh I tossed it into the Goodwill bag. After 40 years, time to move on.
It wasn’t everyday that the F.L.I.N.C.H (Finding Likeable Incredibly Nasty Cats Hiding) Organization had a party, but when they did, it was memorable.
“Their party is toast,” Mister Kitteh hissed, when he got the info from their mole on the inside.
“Heh heh yes indeed!” The mole whined.
“Get this mole outta here,” Mister Kitteh swiped a paw at the wretched creature before the Kitteh Minions kicked him out.
“Tonight we CRASH this party!”
“Do you think the party will go without a hitch?” Agent 001 asked her partner, Agent 001.a.
“I think not,” 001.a said. “And that’s the point.”
“Heh heh yes indeed!” The mole giggled.
The salmon mousse had just been set out when a crashing noise came from the ceiling.
“Ha!” Mister Kitteh cried as he leapt onto the dance floor. “You’re finished, FLINCH!”
Everyone clapped. Kitteh looked confused.
“Happy Birthday, Mister Kitteh!” The entire floor of FLINCH agents applauded and balloons and confetti fell.
“You … remembered!” The likable yet nasty cat clapped his paws together in delight.
“Of course!” The mole squeeked. “I’m a double agent, you see.”
Stuart wasn’t sure whether to add more or less rat poison to the old man’s beef stew. Jake wasn’t sure whether to add it at all.
“We can’t break a blood promise,” Stuart reminded his best friend. “He hurt us. And he enjoyed doing it. We promised to get him back.”
Jake stared at the tin of poison. The label said Rat-Xtinct. Old Man X-tinct now. If he went along.
“We were kids,” Jake reminded him. “We are grown now.”
“He was grown when he whacked our asses with a baseball bat.”
They had found their old teacher, tracing him to the rest home after Jake’s mom was admitted. Jake looked right into his eyes. The old man had no recollection. Dementia.
“There’s nothing of him left but a breathing body.”
When Stuart found out they came up with a plan. Easy enough to sneak some poison out of the supply closet. It took some planning to get it into his stew that night.
“He said we were losers,” Stuart said.
“Maybe we are,” Jacob said. He tossed the rat poison into the trash.
“We need to let it go. He’s gone.”
“No vengeance?”
“What’s the point?”
That’s what poetry means to me Some words are bright and citrusy sweet Others more complex with olive oil Truffle slivers garlic aioli with arugula Words tossed about crunchy like croutons Soft words like feta cheese crumbles A great big salad Enough for everyone Never ending Always delicious Ever nourishing.
“James Burnham was shot and killed yesterday,” the reporter on the TV says as James pours himself coffee, smirking—“
Nellie raised her hand. “I’m sorry, can you clarify that sentence? I don’t understand the protagonist’s motivation.”
Charlotte felt her heart sink into her stomach, already quesy from too many snickerdoodles and eggnog. One of her manuscript pages slid out of her hand onto the floor.
“Well, the idea is, that James Burnham is still alive and thus his “faking death” plan seems to be working…” Charlotte replied.
“Huh,” Nellie said. “Interesting take on the prompt.”
Charlotte thought about this, later, when watching the police report about Nellie’s inexplicable death by an unknown gunman.
[Author’s note: I do not endorse violence of this type. 😬]
Folks from the Eastern part of the United States know the wonder that is Wawa.
Their coffee. Always fresh and hot.
Their sandwiches. In the fall, their “Gobbler” is something to behold: Turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce. I’m not able to eat them anymore, post-Bariatric surgery, but I highly recommend.
The gas attendants are the nicest people. And in New Jersey, they pump the gas FOR you (full disclosure: in NJ all gas is pumped by the attendant).
Walking into a Wawa, just feels like home to me.
No, they’re not paying me to say this. Just a lifetime of love. ☕️
“You’ll be going back to your Mother, then?” the housemaid asked as she set down the bowl of fresh fruit.
“I will,” Persephone replied. Zoe had become a good friend and confidente during her time in the foul, sulfur-smelling place.
“I hope your stay hasn’t been all bad.”
Persephone smiled. It hadn’t, actually. Hades had been a kind god, in his own way, living among a land of ghosts. In some ways he was a better god than any of the other men who had pursued her.
“What’s on your mind?” Zoe asked. Her fingers touched the bowl and pushed it toward the princess.
“You know I can’t eat while I’m down here, or I’ll have to stay forever.”
“A housemaid can but try?” Zoe took a chunk off the pomegranate. Several seeds fell off as she ate.
Mum was so upset at losing me, Persephone thought. But it’s my life, isn’t it? Maybe Hades is the best match for me. I can stay here maybe 6 months out of the year?
Without thinking further, Persephone snatched up 6 pomegranate needs and tossed them into her mouth.
Zoe looked up at her mistress, but not in surprise. “He will give you death, my princess, and you will love him for it.”
“I will,” Persephone replied.
The room disappeared and suddenly she was in Hades’ bedchamber.
“Welcome,” he said. “I hope you will be happy here.”
You lace up your skates Push yourself up Maybe hang on to a friend at first Scritch scritch across the bumpy lake ice Leg muscles cramp, ankles stiffen
But soon you feel something click You’ve got your balance You let go of your friend’s arm Spread out your arms And fly free Across the ice The wind in your face, the sun shining.
You might bump into something Lose your balance Fall on your butt Feel silly But you don’t stay there. You get yourself up And try again.
Mistress was there and then she wasn’t.
Down in that hole. Love-giver, food-bringer. She was looking down and then fell in. Need to find her.
Oh no, I’m falling too. Ouch. Where is Mistress? I see her in the house. She is getting big and bursts out the roof. Must give chase.
Things are different from up there. The bugs aren’t tame and easy to play with. They look like they will bite back.
I see her again, this time at a table. It looks like a food gathering. I crawl around seeking crumbs. A mouse! I am not sure I should catch it. Everything is strange and scary here. So much noise at the table. A man in a strange hat talks nonsense. The crumbs taste good.
Now what - an angry woman in red shrieking about tarts being stolen. Mistress looks like she’s in trouble! I must save her! But I’m feeling so sleepy — something in the crumbs maybe?
Mistress grabs me and runs.
