If restaurant table condiments could talk, what tales they would tell. Secrets of illicit lovers, confessions of criminals on the lam, and horror stories of pranksters who leave the salt lid unscrewed for the next diner. This week’s episode features a 100 word rant by someone who’s a little self-centered. You might even say she’s ‘sweet’ on herself.
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for a great photo full of endless possibilities.
To read more stories, go to her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ and find links to other authors under the comments section.
Back in the old days it was just me, S & P, and maybe a bottle of Heinz. The kind that was so thick it couldn’t be pounded out with a jackhammer—and remember the song, “Anticipation?” I laughed my pour hole off.
Then people got weight conscious and some smarty-pants scientists invented artificial sweeteners. Now they park their little pink, yellow, and blue packets right on the table next to us. It’s insulting.
Try calling your lover Nutra-sweetie, or say their kisses are Splendalicious—see how far that gets you!
I’m from Hawaii and 100% natural. Kiss me, Sugar.
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction
Stories From Within
This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.