Count Blessings

When they say to count your blessings, what units do you count them in?
Some blessings are bigger than others. And some last longer than others.
For example, Life is a blessing. A big blessing.
And the people that a blessing blesses, that can vary, too.
A cup of coffee is a blessing for the person that drinks it, but a coffee plantation is a blessing for all those who earn a living there.
Sometimes, a blessing for someone is a curse for another.
So pardon me if I say “fuck you” instead of “Bless you” for sneezing on me.

The candles of war

“What is the point of anger? While you raise your voice, your enemy will raise his gun.”
Our leader, our prophet tells us this.
As we gather in the basement under our compound.
Filling old coke bottles with gasoline.
Sticking rags in them.
“Shoot first. Shoot often. Shoot before your enemy knows you’re going to shoot.”
Handing out candles and bottles to the children.
“Get up close with the lit candles. Then light the rags and throw.”
They won’t dare shoot children.
Knives and guns are easy to spot.
But kids wearing white holding candles?
We’ll watch the enemy burn.

Together apart

We were together for so long, we barely knew each other anymore.
She wasn’t the person I thought she was.
And I wasn’t the person she thought I was.
Somewhere, those two people, the ones we thought we were, maybe they’re together.
While we’re here, not together anymore.
Maybe they think about us. Like I think about them.
And her.
But when I think of her, I think of the person I thought she was.
And I have to remind myself of who she really is.
Only then can I finally move on with my life.
And truly be myself.

Weekly Challenge #772 – PICK TWO Prowling, Canon, Everything, To/Too/Two, Risk, Delinquent, Spray Tan

Sink nest


The train was too cramped. But she had no other option than to take this one.
A man was playing with a rope.
Too cramped, too awkward.
She wanted to get there quickly. The boat was ready and she was ready. Sailing around the world was her dream, and that dream was so close. She only needed to survive this bloody crowded train.
Suddenly, the train hiccuped, startling everyone.
When she woke up, a rope tied her to a pipe on the wall and the police were knocking at the door.
She wanted to scream. Horrified, she realized she couldn’t…


The big question?

It’s out there, lurking in the darkness. Watching and waiting, hoping for an unguarded moment and the opportunity to strike.

Prowling silently: You know it’s there, but where and when that moment will come remains unknown.

It’s waiting for you.

Biding its time.

Which leaves the question, what do you do now?

Do you hide away?

Do you run?

Or stand and fight?

Are you prepared to take the risk and sit tight in the hope that it will go away?

Or risk all, and face the challenge, head on?

Well, how about it, what are you going to do?


Everything, risk

I don’t feel very creative right now. I wish I had an inner impatient writer yearning to burst forth an utterance as the acorn seed waits to push out an Oak.
“You’re a discovery writer” someone once told me. At times I’m like a young child whose overloaded paintbrush hits the paper and a fat line of liquid aubergine appears and shocks, threatening and promising to bring presence to everything. At that young age I was attuned to the risk and ecstacy of self expression… one finger scratching my chin purple as watery orange rivulets dribble at will.


Prowling; Canon
While prowling through the canon of great literature, the celebrated Shakespeare scholar Bagnold P. Bagnold chanced upon a curious work bound with a rare 18th century edition of Shakespeare. It purported to tell that playwright’s life, but its sordid and implausible detail suggested it might have been penned by the Marquis de Sade.

He discreetly consulted with some specialists in old manuscripts, who pronounced that the pages were certainly contemporaneous with the rest of the volume.

But the detail that dissuaded him from revealing it to the world was the author’s name. He identified himself only by the initials B.P.B.


I was a good kid. Never got into trouble, always behaved perfectly, and was the very model of good behaviour.

As a teenager, whilst my peers might well be described as juvenile delinquents, I bucked the trend. Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.

But now, I’m all grown up, and with the maturity that comes from adulthood I’ve decided that my time has come.

It’s time I became an adult delinquent.

All that pent up anger; the rage; the disobedience and bad behaviour I never let out as a youngster is all about to be released…

All of it.



First we kill the Writer

Everything around here is fuckn Canon. The producers got a bigger bible then the King James, and hell of a lot less poetic. The main character is british, but rasied by wolvies on the russian steeps. They want a wolf russian hip-hop delievery. I say buddie this. It turns out the money behind the money, is a guy so damn close to Putin. So I repeat everything around here is fuckn Canon. I suggested, suggested possiblely the love interest was from …. say Ukraine. Found a dead horse’s head in my bed. Really funny, you fucks. Now, its Putin’s niece, Fuck.


“Dad. I didn’t know you played chess in high school,” Billbert said.
His father laughed. “You don’t know everything about my past, Son. I wasn’t a juvenal delinquent, but I was a bit of a loose cannon. Your mother settled me down a lot.”
They pulled into an all night diner and went inside, unaware of the woman prowling the parking lot.
When the waitress came to Billbert, he said, “I’d like to order the All Day Two Egg breakfast, too.”
Outside, Nuclear Fission didn’t risk standing beneath parking lot lights knowing her spray tan disguise wouldn’t fool the Blanketmakers.



They lurked behind the corner of Jaden’s house, barely stifling their giggles, unable to manage the adrenaline flooding their systems. Braxton peered out, checking if the coast was clear.
“Can you see her?” Jaden hissed, too loudly.
Braxton could easily see their target, but they both knew if Emmy spotted them before they reached paydirt, they would be caught.
“No,” Braxton whispered back, keeping his volume low. “On three,” he commanded. “One… Two…”
“Three!” they gasped in unison, simultaneously sprinting from cover.
As they barreled toward the base, Braxton spotted Emmy breaking from her cover, determined to cut them off.


Nobody ever saw Mindy Bakersfield’s face.
She wore a full diving suit with air tanks.
A note from her parents allowed her to skip Gym class.
Eating her lunch all by herself in a special room, and a special bathroom set aside, too.
Kids dared each other to try to pull her helmet off.
Bobby Watkins managed to attach a mini-camera to the helmet.
But when Mindy took it off for lunch, the camera faced the wall and it never caught her face.
The next day, Bobby wasn’t there.
His family suddenly moved away.
And Mindy sat in his seat.

Hank crashes

Every night at the dinner table, Hank thumps his chest and proudly says “Because of the cars I build, someone’s coming home alive to their family that wouldn’t come home in any other car!”
Hank couldn’t afford a car he’d built. He drove a cheaper, less safe model.
So when he got into a wreck, he was killed instantly.
The other driver survived just fine. He had been driving a car that Hank had built.
Hank had a life insurance policy, so his wife was taken care of, his kids got to college.
And neither got a job building cars.

How Does That Grab You by SusuandUs

“So let us not talk falsely now,
The hour is getting late”. Dylan

I love the feeling when I’m struck by truth.
Crumbs feed my soul. Bewitched by its spell I see all.
A flicker of fairy lights please –  never a floodlight.
A fulsome breeze ushered in by sheer white curtains.
Demanding your lives for centuries or lurking under the dew drop laden skirts of mushrooms..
So how would that grab you? Yes, YOU, my good witness. Brave eyes on wounds.
It IS getting late…. Truth’s undressing….its a swing bridge…the concrete has left..
And the rain came down.

The pants

So, the story is. I lost a lot of weight.
I bought new pants and shorts and shirts and underwear.
Then, I donated the fat stuff.
Turns out, I donated some of the slim stuff too.
I had to buy some more pants and shorts and shirts and underwear.
An expensive mistake, but some homeless dude is walking around with some new pants, shorts, shirts, and underwear now.
It all balances out in the end. Chalk it up to a good deed.
But if I see him walking around, yeah, I’m running his ass over and taking my shit back.

The prayer

A friend’s mom is terminally ill.
He’s constantly asking on social media for people to pray for her.
Calls it “The Prayer Army.”
So, I asked if there’s a Prayer Navy.
“What about a Prayer Air Force?” I asked. “That’s a good name for angels, isn’t it? Prayer Air Force? And Prayer rhymes with Air.”
Then there’s the Prayer Navy, Prayer Marines, Prayer Coast Guard.
Of course, the people who don’t believe and refuse to pray, they’re the Prayer Conscientious Objectors.
They have to flee to Canada or they’ll get arrested for refusing to serve in the Prayer Military.

Tinny laundry

Tinny the cat likes to sleep on my shoulder.
When I am not around, she likes to sleep in my laundry pile.
Because it smells like me.
Sometimes, when I am around, she sleeps in the laundry pile.
Maybe it smells more like me than I do?
Or perhaps I smell too much like me?
I do eat a lot of onions and garlic.
And my farts are wicked horrible.
But then my laundry pile will smell like them, too, right?
Maybe I should eat so much garlic and so many onions.
And I should do my laundry more often.

Top story

Did you hear the news about Dr. Blake?
You didn’t? That’s odd. It’s all over the news.
Top story everywhere.
Even on the Walter Smith Channel.
You know, the channel that’s dedicated to news about Walter Smith.
But this one time, they went with news about someone other than Walter Smith.
That’s how important it was.
“Coming up, our top story: Dr. Blake.” the anchor said.
Then they cut to a commercial.
Instead of telling us what’s so important, they tease it.
And then it turns out to be nothing.
This is why I read the Walter Smith newspaper instead.