With red dust on his hands, he slogs around in the carbonate mines and thinks of his wife and spawn. As he chisels and shovels, his mind is elsewhere: he still hasn’t gotten around to writing a will, but he’ll get around to it one day. He wouldn’t want the space courts intervening and costing his family a bionic arm and a leg. After all the anger management classes, he finally feels settled and happy for a change. A sudden and thunderous rumbling jolts him out of his stupor. The pudgy…

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Check out my piece "The Place Within" on Six Sentences:

http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/2009/08/place-within.html

Hugs all around,

G

On that fateful day, an exultant cry came from the laptop keyboard. The Esc key stood up on its spindly little legs and made a mad dash for the edge of the desk. “Run, run!” The other keys lifted up and down in jubilation. Little did they know there would be no escape. They hadn’t bargained on the shifty-looking gang of No. 2 pencils sunbathing by the windowsill.

Clad in color-flecked hats, leis, and party poppers,
we gathered in Eddie’s rumpus room
and took the sacred ping pong table oath,
vowing to meet again, wherever circumstances demanded,
until the constitution of our new kingdom
is established and affirmed on solid foundations.

I hacked through the underbrush and came to a clearing in the jungle. I was met by the austere stares of a long lost tribe. To earn their trust I was faced with a series of challenges to prove my worthiness if I was to be adopted into their community: I barely survived the Rapids of Death, fire ants were dumped all over my body while I was tied to a tree, we regularly dined on woolly monkey fingers and drank a beverage brewed from fermented saliva. These are the small prices one must pay to… Continue