One day a girl stood by a brook. She was reading a book about a foot. She shook and the book landed in the middle of the brook. She put up her hood and got her fishing pole. She made sure the hook was sharp. She got it! Her mother came by to tell her I wanted to cook some chocolate for my little book saver.
When Maggie and Bianca received a phone call from Elizabeth responding to their Facebook ad for a third roommate, the two young women had no idea they were agreeing to live with a human trash generator. The ad had been listed for a couple weeks and after receiving a few messages from outright weirdos, Elizabeth seemed like a normal college student by comparison, one who they thought they could even potentially be friends with. When they asked her to list a few facts about herself, Elizabeth responded, “I’m a Fashion Design student who draws inspiration from Vera Wang, I grew up in Maine, and I’m an only child.”
Sadly, Maggie and Bianca were not privy to the implications of Elizabeth’s third personal fact. Sophomore college students themselves, the two of them were just moving into their first apartment after having lived in the dorms the prior year, and so their experience with roommates was limited. In their eyes, the worst possible scenario for prospective a roommate was someone who listened to loud, angsty music into the wee hours of the night (or morning, by then) and who didn’t shower but once a week. They had no idea that the worst candidate for a roommate could be a pretty blond girl with French-tipped nails and a love of classical symphony.
It was a night that existed after a week’s preparation, a night that was the result of several shopping excursions, hours of crafting and decorating, and outstanding social suavity, a night that culminated from a desire to give the seasonally affected a reason to celebrate this otherwise possibly depressing impending winter. Ned Theodore Ed and Margaret Hadfield worked diligently on this party, fashioning every detail with eager attentiveness. Continue reading “N.T. Ed and the Apple Cider Whodunnit?”→
N.T. Ed and Margaret Decide to Have an Autumn Party
Ned Theodore Ed, skull in the palm of his bony hand, looked out the window at the darkening early evening, and sighed.
Margaret noticed N.T. Ed’s shoulders silently heave and slump (for this was the way N.T. “sighed”) and paused her knitting. “What was that for?” Margaret asked, tilting her head and looking at N.T. over the top of her wire-rim reading glasses. They were sitting in Margaret’s living room, N.T. on the couch, and Margaret in her recliner; the lamps on her end tables produced an orangey, cozy hue as the light flickered off her hardwood interior.
Once upon a time there was a boy named Timothy Adams. His mom was a Dr. and he lived on Cherry St. His parents owned over 100 yd. His best friend Logan lived on Crazy Ave. They both lived in the U.S.A. and they were almost neighbors. One day Logan’s parents told Timothy’s parents that they were moving out of state. Mr. and Mrs. Adams told Timothy that day. Timothy burst into tears. Then Timothy had an idea. Continue reading “Timothy, Logan, and the Big Move”→
The Slanted crew of Senga, Ramona, Gabe, and Agnes hastily made their way to Ramona’s space ship as discreetly as possible. Although everyone at the Slanted satellite base seemed to be caught up in the agenda of their own missions on this highly anticipated Day of Action, Agnes felt tense and self-conscious about the possibility of suddenly being confronted by an authority, as they passed by other soldiers, who were heading with a jog in an opposite direction, or staring at a tablet’s screen as they walked by, or speaking into a watch as they bustled along the hallways. Continue reading “I Fuel the Great Machine: Part XI”→
Running down the hallway of the cubicle complex as the building lights flicker on and off, running as fast as possible but still moving in slow motion, alarms sounding… It’s getting closer, the shadowy figure that’s following… Pushing the body to move faster, but still it’s like treading through thick water… Breaking out into the daylight and reaching the subway station, but the subway doors slam shut just as it’s finally in eye sight, and the train slides along the tracks quickly disappearing, but work will start soon, can’t be late for work, heart thumping… Jogging to work, have to get to work, passing the same street signs over and over again; lost? Which way is it? At the dishwashing station, and suddenly Enforcers are surrounding, yelling, raising weapons, no! Bracing for the blow, Enforcer’s arm raised, and it comes down… In space now, orbiting the bright blue and green planet in a capsule, such brilliant colors, captivated… The world slowly turning orange, red-hot, colors burning, the planet starts dripping—-no, no! It’s melting away, dripping into space… Continue reading “I Fuel the Great Machine: Part X”→
After laughing together about the impossible task that lie ahead of them in the plant-laden living room of Senga’s office, Senga offered Agnes and Ramona some coffee, in such a hilariously casual way that it was almost as if they were not plotting to take down the greatest super-computer that essentially ruled the planet. Continue reading “I Fuel the Great Machine: Part IX”→
After breaking several of the Great Slantia’s laws and abandoning a lifetime dedicated to its success by allowing an enemy of the state to kidnap her by boarding a space ship and traveling to a secret rebel base satellite located in the shadow of the moon, Agnes, our formerly unsuspecting retiree protagonist, stood at the door which led to her twin sister, whom she had no idea existed until earlier that day. And she didn’t quite know how she felt about this. Continue reading “I Fuel the Great Machine: Part VIII”→
On the Slanted Satellite Base in the shadow of the moon, in an office filled with human-sized bubbles that contained office work spaces, a woman with a blue Mohawk, a scrawny gentleman who seemed perpetually tense, and a woman with antennae in a business suit spoke quietly amongst themselves while an elderly woman in an orange jumpsuit sat nearby, daydreaming of how it would feel to be a bubble. Continue reading “I Fuel the Great Machine: Part VII”→