Tagged: food

All We Had To Eat

  • which stank as if hyenas had once lived there
  • a little knob on its side
  • scraped off the rhino skulls
  • meat and berries
  • voles, grouse, foxes
  • their hair was curly, but only loosely so
  • consisted of a skin loin cloth

All we had to eat was meat and berries, which had to be scraped off the rhino skulls. One skull had a little knob on its side, and Edgar claimed it for his own exclusive use. Mine was yellowed, an ancient specimen which stank as if hyenas had once lived there. Already I’d lost twelve pounds.

I was on the trail of voles, grouse, foxes, or fish when I discovered the other encampment. Their hair was curly, but only loosely so. I drew a map on the only suitable material I possessed, which consisted of a skin loincloth.

It was at that moment, scribbling away with a dirty stick at the underside of my meager garment, that I first laid eyes on Minerva.

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I Always Used To

  • great hammer blows
  • I always used to envy children
  • my father’s arrogant stride
  • with that horse face
  • this surely must be a sin
  • they glowed crimson

I always used to envy children whose parents seemed normal, whereas my mother’s sinister leer was overshadowed only by my father’s arrogant stride. Mother’s leer was really something, with that horse face sporting eyes like a denizen of the depths — they glowed crimson. So, that should help put father’s arrogance into perspective.

Even today I blame them for where I wound up, doing body make-up on second-tier professional wrestlers. Casting blame, this surely must be a sin.

Today’s client insists on eating while I bronze his quads. Great Hammer blows on his soup, and my belly growls. I can’t eat until he’s in the ring.

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The Adult Conspiracy

  • a ninety percent chance of success!by jen
  • a large raindrop, then another
  • to cook in spite of her protests
  • when I emerged from customs
  • adult conspiracy to spoil Beatrice
  • drawing back from his kisses
  • with its own gin palace

The adult conspiracy to spoil Beatrice‘s appetite stood a ninety percent chance of success! They continued to cook in spite of her protests that she wanted to save room for dinner, like her momma said she should, and soon tears fell from her eyes like a large raindrop, then another.

I knew when I emerged from customs that this was an unusual country – with its own gin palace at the airport and everything. Beatrice’s mother could be seen there, through the window, flirting shamelessly with a man who was not her husband, but drawing back from his kisses just in time. Did she know what the customs officials were trying to do, right then, to her darling daughter’s diet?

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Uncle Timothy Despairs

  • her father’s protege in the city
  • choked with seaweed
  • (she called it fizzy)
  • a great deal of reviewing
  • I slithered to the chemist
  • Uncle Timothy despairs
  • sometime between 1887 & 1889

“Uncle Timothy despairs of finding the antidote in time,” Salome wept. Timothy was not her real uncle, but a longtime family friend; her father’s protege in the city.

The inundation had remade the city, and its dwellers. Avenues choked with seaweed, corner vendors selling sea cucumber sandwiches to lithe, scaly pedestrians.

My preparations for a sojourn had remade me likewise. I slithered to the chemist, the love of my life, Salome, and tried to console her. I knew she would be my salvation — she already had an effervescent concoction (she called it fizzy) that had almost worked.

Sometime between 1887 & 1889, the comet had grazed our atomsphere… the answer was in the Farmers’ Almanac, but finding the right pages would entail a great deal of reviewing.

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