I’m gonna miss him.


Photo by Nik Shuliahin on Unsplash

I’m gonna miss him.

The unparalleled gift he had for always ending up with the one room in every cheap motel where the indent was driven so deeply into the mattress that we had no choice but to spend the whole night clutching and clinging to one another- and wake to the only shower without a knob.

The near uncanny knack he had for choosing a soft secluded place to just spread out a blanket, away from the hustle and bustle, away from the crowds and the noise, yet invariably atop the only fire-ant mound or a patch of poison ivy in the whole freaking forest.

But most of all, I’m gonna miss the dexterousness with which he could hold a cold beer in one hand, and fool around with me with the other- bringing us both to a head at the same time- but never quite allow either of us to make it over the edge- 

What do they call that? Ambidextrous?

Doesn’t matter.

I’m still gonna miss him.

This silly little ditty includes two of the three phrasal prompts (although, I am thinking the third has been implied, tnkerr) on the OLWG #120. The phrases were:

  1. ambidextrous
  2. a cheap motel
  3. John’s long gone


A Chocolate Provocative


Tina’s tongue let out a single silent scream as the combination of sweet cream cheese and heady dark chocolate gilded like velvet over her titillated taste buds. 

“Mmmm..” She moaned, as she suckled any remnant of the bittersweet chocolate from each fingertip with a provocative sucking motion, sounds reminiscent of deep tongue kisses, marking her progress as she worked her way slowly from pinky to fore. 

“This is disgustingly delicious.” 

Her young coworker, Sean, stopped short by the unmistakable sound of hot wet kisses followed by guttural moans emanating from Tina’s cubical as he happened by, scrunched his brow and gave her a quizzical look that could only have been translated as, “What is wrong with you?”

“You know,” Tina whispered breathily, as she stepped in close and latched onto the button down panel of Sean’s freshly laundered white dress shirt with her free hand, “It’s not an open secret, in fact it may just be this one woman’s unbiased opinion..”

“But I would venture to guess a young man like yourself would consider himself awfully lucky,” she continued, whilst skimming his generous lower lip provocatively with a still moist forefinger, “were he to be made privy to the intimate connection between a real woman’s longings for expertly hand crafted chocolates and her need for…”

For.. Mmmm… Tell me, Sean, what would you call it?”


This piece is my response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #123 where she challenges us to use one or more of the following phrases creatively. Glutton that I am, I used them all….

  1. silent scream
  2. open secret
  3. disgustingly delicious
  4. awfully lucky
  5. unbiased opinion

Oh- and a coworker of mine made these amazing chocolate truffles for us some weeks back, and I can testify to the fact that they are- disgustingly delicious.

A Saturday Night

It’s 3AM and I’m stumblin’ home from a Saturday night on the town. A night spent drinkin’, dancin’, couplin’ if’n you’re lucky. After all that’s what Saturdays are for ain’t it? A bit of the unbridled? A chance to slough off the chains of a work a day life, maybe even engage in a little unadulterated sinnin’ before headin’ out to church come Sunday mornin’?

It’s just me and these streetlights, but there’s a little hitch in my giddyup tonight. A little hitch that weren’t there, say a week ago, when I knew I was goin’ home to an empty house. 

Cause tonight I got me a little woman waitin’ for me. One that ain’t worried about how late it is, or how much I drunk. One that won’t complain about the smell a cheap perfume, or that smudge a lipstick on my collar. One that’ll stand right there in the middle of the kitchen floor and watch me drink straight outta the milk carton, or eat a cold leg a chicken while leanin’ over the kitchen sink.

And best of all, one I know is gare-on-teed to provide a man with as much unadulterated sinnin’ as he feels he might need to get ‘em in the pew come Sunday mornin’. 

Said so right on the box.

This little bit of nastiness took it’s inspiration from the three phrasal prompts offered on the OLWG #137 prompt this week. The phrases were:

  1. In the middle of the kitchen floor
  2. that’s what Saturdays are for
  3. just me and these streetlights


Somewhere deep in the chasm that separates a gift from a curse lays my inexorable need to find the logic in everything. And everyone. And more often than not, it’s those ‘everyones’ that really send the scales crashing on the cursed side of the aforementioned gulch.

Now I don’t know if it’s my own fresh hell or what, but it seems to me that an ever increasing number of the people I come into contact with on a daily basis, strictly, totally, and completely defy any form of logic.

The time is nigh that I have reason to doubt the majority automatically put their best foot forward. I can no longer rest assured that for the most part people will inherently do the next right thing. And heaven forbid I should take it for granted that if given the opportunity most would choose praise over even the most constructive of criticisms.

Now is about the point in this diatribe where I am supposed to pull out this amazing antidote of essential wisdom that will instantaneously restore common sense to the masses. Speak a single sentence that will percolate with the ability to revive reason and in one fell swoop set the logically challenged gently back on the path to,, to… To?

Where is it they were supposed to be going again?

Augh! Forget I mentioned it…

Sunday Writing Prompt: Gift