She’s basking in the fake sun, reading fake news, and working on her fake tan.
She’s dreamy eyed, and tongue tied.
Wearing his favorite Space Cadet pajamas, he watches TV in his favorite chair, and mumbles away to himself.
Delusional thoughts, warped ideas, a mind full of fabrications and he believes, that whatever he says is the truth, when he damn well knows they are lies, bullshit, etc., etc….
She knew the weather is bad, but she was determined to venture out to the bodega, to get milk, as she had none left. Bundled up, she encountered white out conditions, and soon enough, she got disoriented, and didn’t know where she was.
The next morning her son woke up, and his mother was not home. He called his aunt to see if she was there, and she said no.
An hour later, there was a knock on the door. It was the police notifying him, that a man out walking his dog. found her face down on a snowbank, and apparently froze to death.
Imagination and fiction make up more than three quarters of our real life. -Simone Weil
Agnes, the goddess of children’s story telling.
he awoke around 2:00 am and he couldn’t get back to sleep he decided to thrown on some clothes and take a walk the air was warm and it made him feel good ambling on down the street he sees two women in black heels totally naked standing at the corner as he approached they said that he was welcome to join them if he was in his forties sorry i’m in my sixties oh well he said thanks anyways for the invite off he went further down the street he came upon two men also in their 40s and they asked him if he wanted to join them nope i’m in my 60s he went into the 24 hour store and bought a pack of chewing gum and asked the guy behind the counter who are those two naked men outside i don’t see anybody standing out their he was kind of dumbstruck so he paid for his gum an a bottle of water headed back home he never saw the two men or the women on his return to his home about couple of minutes after 2:00 am he woke up wondering what the hell the dream was all about was it real did it really happen only he knows
Sam was in his glory, as the woman behind the counter, gave him a bag of day old muffins and doughnuts. She also filled his thermos with fresh brewed coffee.
Sam is homeless, and has no job. He forages in the dumpsters for returnable cans and bottles, which keeps him busy.
Now he is thankful for people like the woman that works at the local bakery. Sam sees the best the best in people, and that’s a good thing.
Walking down the street, there was a sign in the window, Opening Soon! A different kind of restaurant. The name: Bring Your Own Food And Drinks Restaurant. We prepare and cook it. No waiters, waitresses and bus boys. Plus, the patrons wash the plates, cutlery, etc. Cost of doing business, is negotiable.
The future of dining, has finally arrived.
Using the feather duster to sweep the floors. It’s going to be a while.
Fancy Fran and Dandy Dan met at a friend’s house. With in minutes, they fell in love. They immediately left for the airport, eloped, and took the first flight to Las Vegas, where they went to a chapel, and tied the knot. A quicky marriage that lasted one day. He went to the court house the very next day, was granted a divorce. When he awoke, he realized it was all a dream.
Not a good day, to deal with the village idiot. He is really, really out to lunch.
He spouts off so much bullshit, he has a shovel and bucket, to clean up his crap.
Flapping her lips. Not making sense.
She said, your hearing me, but not listening. He said, oh.
Made a fresh pot of coffee, and she never showed up.
He never does what the play book says to do. Just wings it, and hopes for the best out come.
Early in the evening, people of all walks of life, are giving the female dancer, thumbs up and clapping, while she does her routine, on a busy midtown street. She is thrilled that everybody appreciates what she does.
He’s happy. She’s smiling. All’s good.
He’s a firm believer, of tin foil hat conspiracies.
Eyes like daggers, panties wadded up in a knot, he knows not to say a word.
As she was heading to the door, she hollered out “never again, never again, you ruthless shit bag.”
The compass is pointing him straight to the gates of hell.
Making a long story short. Done.
He: Did he do it?
She: What did he do?
He: I’m asking you, did he do it?
She: What did he do?
He: You know what he did.
She: I have know idea what you are talking about.
He: I think you do.
She: You think, but you don’t know for sure.
He; Well, back to the question. Did he do it?
She: I still have no idea what you are try to see.
He: You do, and I am 99.9 percent sure.
She: Still there is that .1 percent tells me that you are not sure about it.
Walking onto a pile of shit.
Tick tock. Bing Bong. Wake up.
The wise man is uttering nonsense.
While she was daydreaming of the great time she had the night before, she didn’t realize the last train was ready to leave the station, which happened to be the last one for the evening. When snapped out of it, she said ‘fuck!’ Now I’ll have to take a cab home, which is about 20 miles away, and it cost her close to $50.00.
All in all, it turned out to be an expensive daydream.
He’s a person with no morals.
Blustery winds doing a number with her freshly styled hair. It makes her like she was ready for a casting call, for a horror movie.
Her down time is spending 15 minutes a day, sitting naked on a large block of ice.
He said right.
She say write.
Fiddlin’ and diddlin’, all morning long.
The winds are blowing through, that sounds like a jet engine.
Come one, come all. Come as you are, to the annual funny freak parade.
Done in a day’s time. Yup!
Lose the attitude. It’s truly demeaning.
Please sit. We need to talk.
Flies swimming in bowl of soup.
He’s known as the orange menace.
Riding the train to crazy ville.
Running through the maze called life.
She’s humming the rainy day blues.
Wondering, rendering gut-wrenching thoughts, is doing a number on his psyche.
The reporter for the local newspaper, fueled with excessive amounts of caffeine, is typing away like a mad man. His editor loves his work, even though he his in his own world, no one dares to tell him to slow down. The reason is, that a colleague told him to take a break, and that turned into a big mistake. The madman told him to shut the fuck up, and to mind his own fucking business. Needless to say, that was the one and only time that anyone would have the balls to say anything to him, about his habit.
The streets have an eerie feeling.
Orange man doesn’t save the day.
A dyed-in-the-wool jackass.
He’s known as the number one, incorrigible asshole.
Sleep walking in a mid-town, trash filled alley.
Clairvoyant said, “The future looks bleak.”
The unicyclist, loves to entertain the folks while playing the fiddle.
All aboard the train of thoughts.
Without you the days seem to be meaningless.
Now that you are gone
the chair at the table
will always be there,
if and when you
decide to come back.
When he speaks, he can put a fruit fly to sleep.
He’s a loose cannon, extraordinaire. Yup!
He plays solitaire with a deck of 51 cards.
Speaking the truth is beneath him.
Opening the door to the unknown.
His boat is slowly taking on water. The crew are disobeying orders and jumping ship, one member at a time.
His train of thought has gone off the rails.
His brain is in sleep mode.
He’s known to be the worst of the worst, for making bad decisions.
Now boarding, the ship of fools.
Now that his ego got the best of him, he wonders what his friends will think.
The members of the local chapter of the rainy days blues fan club, is now in session.
He is oblivious to his surroundings.
Skeletons can be found in his closet.
He can never tell a lie with a straight face.
She sleeps soundly on a mattress filled with stiff straw.
He’s a nonstop babbling brook of misinformation.
He’s in an inebriated frame of mind.
Smoke filled room
with cigarette butts
and remnants of Chinese
The life of a down
and out bachelor.
She’s lying naked on the grass, staring at the puffy clouds and pondering, what if …
What can one say, about the guy who is known to have shit for brains.
For no reason, she is all grins and giggles.
Having an enlightening conversation with a clothing store mannequin.
Throughout the city, the blanket of dense fog, has that eerie feeling.
Waiting for the train to nowhere.
The well known eccentric man of means, takes his battery operated toy poodle for a walk. When asked he walks a toy dog he replies, the dog needs to do its daily constitution. He tells people, that he is sick and tired of waking up in the morning, to see a puddle of pee, and a mound of shit on the floor. He never did say what he supposedly feeds the so-called dog, besides new batteries.
The planets are on a collision course of mass destruction.
He’s prone to having delusional thoughts.
Mr. Idea Man is down in the dumps, because he cannot think of any new ideas. He’s hoping it is only a temporary lapse, as people of all walks of life, come to hear him. If he doesn’t, he may have to look for another line of work.
She dreads writing her final paper.
He is so full of shit, there’s absolutely no room for toilet paper.
The local potty mouth club, is now meeting in the town park, with coffee and donuts, for their weekly gabfest of gutter talk.
He said, “Oh shit.” She told him to watch his mouth. So for the rest of the day, he looked into the hand held mirror, never to put it down.
He’s known as the bloviating airhead.
He uses a fork to eat potato chips.
He’s known as the man with the dead pan voice of ribald humor.
He’s known as the village’s number one neat freak.
Thinking logically is not his calling.
Standing under the spreading maple tree, he is fretting, and mumbling, as what he will say, to his long lost daughter. It’s been at least 10 plus years, that they had any contact.
She finally showed up, and it was an awkward feeling. A few minutes passed by, and the angst he was feeling was gone. They hugged, and we’re both misty eyed, then the conversing began. They told each other what they are doing with their lives.
The happy father and daughter went to the corner deli, had a nice lunch of sandwiches, coffee and let the bygones, be bygones.
He is the master of manipulation.
By day, he lives the life of a monk. In the evening, a con artist, is his vocation.
A night owl on the prowl.