Party Girl

 

She was fifteen years old when she first went to Planned Parenthood.

Relieved to the point of tears that her period had come on time, it was time to take matters into her own hands and get on the Pill, because she’d be damned if she ever be put in that position again.

Her mom, like so many other adults, would assume she wanted to go on the Pill because she was just another bad teenage girl who wanted to have sex.

But she now knew that she had very little control over when she had sex, or with who.

 

Mug

 

“Huh” she thought, “I didn’t notice this chip before.”

There was an impressive collection of mugs on her wall, and she used a different one every day.

The chip was small and on the handle of the mug, but as she rinsed it, it got bigger.

Perplexed, she set the mug on the counter, watching it with a definite side-eye.

With the tiniest crackling, the handle quietly crumbled onto the countertop.

She was letting out her breath when the entire mug exploded, and there was barely time for her to drop to the floor before every other mug followed suit.

Normal

 

The monkeys grabbed the laundry off the line as soon as she could hang it up, and she cursed, watching them disappear back into the trees.

The Official Report said that no monkeys lived here, but her missing wardrobe begged to differ.

Everyone hoped the pterodactyls would take care of the monkeys (although Official Report also denied the existence of pterodactyls).

Life had been so crazy since that last meteor strike, it was hard to determine what was Abnormal…or the New Normal.

She heard squeaking from inside the house, so she went to feed the baby sea turtles their bottles.  

Bad Camo

 

“That’s your defense?” the snake asked the slug, incredulously.

“Yes. What’s wrong with it?” the slug asked, a little offended. “I tuck my antennae and I look like a stick so nothing will eat me. See?” and suddenly, the antennae were gone, and there was just a blackish twig on the path.

“What’s your defense?” the slug queried.

The water snake proudly said, “I look like a venomous cottonmouth to scare predators!”

Neither one saw the human approach until it had stepped on the slug (still in stick-mode).

“See? Stupid defense” the snake thought, just before the shovel decapitated it.

Flood

 

The couple was arguing about the flood.                   

It wouldn’t have been so urgent, but their house was at the bottom of the hill.

They blamed each other for the flood, since lately, everything had turned them against each other. Neither one could remember how long it had been since they’d loved each other, and they blamed each other for that, too.

Eventually, the water filled the house, and the yelling turned to gurgling, and then stopped.

A small dog wearing mis-matched boots sat sadly on the porch roof, watching a tiny spider bob up and down from a tree branch.

Persecution

 

The man with a trunk full of bibles was sitting on a folding chair under a tree.

Sighing, the festival chairman approached him. “Sir, you can’t be here.”

Bible man was immediately belligerent. “Why? Because I’m giving away the Word of the One True God?”

“No, sir. It’s because our Pagan Festival has rented the entire park for the weekend. You’ll have to move your car and bibles out beyond the park gate.”

“Or what?” Bible man asked, angrily.

“Well, you could always pay for your space, or I’ll have to call the police.”

Headline: CHRISTIAN PERSECUTION AT PAGAN FESTIVAL.

Terrible Cook

 

“I’ve been trying to learn how to cook, but it’s not going well” she said as she got out the frying pan.

“I’m terrible at it, no matter how hard I try” she added, as the ground beef sizzled and browned.

Absentmindedly, still frowning, she added salt, pepper, spices (all by feel, not measuring a thing), onions and peppers, then the sauce.

“It’s really sad that nothing I make is even edible” she mused, tossing the cooked pasta in olive oil.

Putting the sauce, pasta, and grated parmesan on the table, she said, “Well. There it is.”

It was delicious.

Still Human

 

He’d never appeared in her dreams, and then two nights in a row, there he was.

But not how she knew he was now- whole and healthy and loving.

He was angry and paranoid, like he’d been that last year.

During these two days, the LED candles that lit up in ones and twos to show her he was here remained dark.

That second morning, she couldn’t stand it- the thought that dementia could affect him, even now.

Outside, she looked down and there was one perfect wisteria bloom.

She picked it up and went inside. Every candle was lit.

True Story

 

Her family and friends told her she needed to move somewhere safer, but she’d always felt safe here on her little farm.

Sure, she was not the most popular old lady on the block, due to her political leanings and whatnot, but her neighbors would still help her if she needed it.

It happened as she was working by the barn, in view of the road.

The pickup roared past, and a young man yelled at her, “Nigger-lover!”

She stopped dead in her tracks, blood running cold, realizing that even though it was 2026, she still lived in Klan Country.

Zen

 

She sighed, trying to hold on to her composure, but it was now out of reach.

“Hey! Knock it off! I’m trying to be all zen and shit!”

Her evening yoga, tai chi and meditation took less than an hour. Was that too much to ask of a house where she was the only living human? She didn’t think so, but apparently it was.

The dogs, who spent 90% of the day sleeping, chose that time to chase each other, growling, yapping and knocking stuff over.

When she hollered, they stopped, and she heard her late husband’s voice clearly.

“Sorry.”

Age of Discontent

 

It finally happened. That thing she swore would never happen to her, no matter how old she got.

That thing where women of a certain age look at themselves and think, “I hate this about me and I’m going to change it and make it look younger.”

It wasn’t her hair. She loved that it was going gray.

It wasn’t her breasts. As long as they were comfortable and contained, she was happy with them.

It wasn’t her tummy. That tummy had grown three whole-ass human beings. It was fine.

She sighed and made appointments to get her tattoos re-done.

Old Trees

 

 She sat among the trees she’d loved for over two decades, once again filled with sorrow that she would be leaving them.

“How can I leave?” she whispered for the thousandth time since the decision had been made…to leave.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the wind in the trees, then to the trees themselves, their soft kind voices in her head.

“Little human, we love you, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you are exhausting. That younger forest has more energy than we do. We’ve protected your family through many crises. Please. We need to rest, now.”

Laundry

 

She loved doing laundry.

Make no mistake. She was terrible at it.

Not for her the separating of clothes into various piles.

On laundry day, she opened up the washer and dumped the entire contents of the hamper into it, set it to Normal/cold, added laundry softener (because she wasn’t a total barbarian), detergent, and oxi-clean (because she was sort of a barbarian), turned it on and wished it all well.

Then into the dryer.

She didn’t iron or fold anything.

But she loved the smell and warmth of clean laundry right out of the dryer.

And that was enough.

Lorenzo

 

It’s supposed to be a low-key, no-hassle, relaxing little jar of tranquility; a little item called “Life Under Glass”.

It’s basically a large jelly jar that comes with substrate, a shell, three sticks, 4 slips of aquatic plants, a moss ball…and Lorenzo.

Lorenzo came in his own baggie. He’s a snail.

He is not low-key, no-hassle or relaxing. Lorenzo is Chaos.

Sometimes he can’t be seen at all.

He looks deceased at least once a day, either half-buried in the substrate or literally upside down impersonating an empty shell.

But he’s fine.

He just sleeps that way.

What an asshole.

Barn Boots

 

She was pulling on her barn boots when it happened.

Her barn boots.

For almost half a century, the first shoes on her feet when she left the house were her barn boots so she could do chores before whatever else the day had in store for her.

She looked down at them, really looked at them.

They were always the same. Not the same pair, of course, but the same style every few years, as needed.

Tractor Supply Company polka dot lined barn boots.

She wouldn’t need them at her new place.

And her heart broke, just a little.

Spring

 

The spring night was filled with the sound of frogs as he made his way from his truck to the house.

Absentmindedly, he identified them in his head. Peepers, Treefrogs, Leopard frogs, the occasional bullfrog, and…

Odd. He didn’t recognize that one.

It sounded almost like a cough, or a sneeze, but obviously it was another frog, or some weird insect. They made tons of strange noises.

The door closed behind him, and he turned off the porch light.

From the cover of the forest, one sasquatch was looking at the other one, perturbed.

“Fucking allergies” said the other one.

The Gift

 

She inhaled, then stopped and looked up.

The jasmine vines intermingled with the wisteria and they covered the pergola roof and leaped across to scale the neighboring pine tree.

Fifteen years ago she’d planted them with a hope and a prayer, because she had the blackest thumb there ever was, and now look at them.

Just look at them.

There was a twinge in her heart and a tear came to her eye, because this time next year she would be living somewhere else.

When she sadly looked down, there it was. A pod. The wisteria would go with her.

Security

 

Furtively, he glanced out the window. Something had set the motion sensor light off in the yard.

Holding his breath without realizing it, he scanned every inch of the illuminated lawn.

Nothing.

He had set the sensitivity so just a possum, stray cat or racoon wouldn’t set it off. No, it would have to be something bigger. At least six times bigger. What the hell could it have been?

Finally shrugging, he let the curtain fall back into place and turned back to the TV.

Outside, the six racoons crept back into the yard to practice making their pyramid again.

Safe

The bones lay scattered in the clearing, chalk white against the soft browns and greens of pine needles, leaves, and grass.

It had been a deer, and something had definitely killed and eaten it here in an undisturbed part of the forest.

This was supposed to be a safe place, a protected place, surrounded by high fences, a gate house, and an active HOA. This forest was civilized and soft, orderly and tame.

But here among the trees, was the truth of the matter.

You might can keep out the humans, but Mother Nature does not live by the HOA.

Gone Fishin'

 

The four friends had spent the day fishing and were finishing a fine dinner of hamburgers since none of them were very good at fishing.

They sat in companionable relaxation around the fire, listening to night noises and drinking beer.

The conversation flowed from their jobs to their families, and as the moon rose higher, inevitably to regrets and aspirations not attained.

It was decided that, all in all, things could be a lot worse, and life didn’t suck.

One of them wondered aloud how their husbands were doing alone with the kids, and they all had a good laugh.

Old Men

 

The old men sat in their comfortable chairs, completely disgruntled.

Through the haze of cigars and bourbon, they squinted at each other querulously.

Their fathers had started with nothing, and worked like dogs to build their businesses.

Everyone admired them and that’s the way it should be.

It was the way of the world.

These men, these sons who were now old, had never had to work. Not really.

They’d never struggled or worried about money or wanted for anything.

And no one who worked for a living admired them.

So, they set the world on fire.

Because they could.