Lily Urchin sits in her playpen, tugging on her bunny's ears and dripping pablum down the front of her pretty pink dress. She gurgles and coos. She's just the precious thing.
Her eyes grow large with excitement. A familiar face beams down from above the rail. Aunt Chelsea, and that means just one thing. Her cousin Matty will be visiting. Her aunt lifts the boy over the side of the detention cube and walks to the kitchen table. She sits to a cup of coffee and a cigarette.
The two mothers shoot the breeze, glancing over toward the babies every now and again.
"Aren't they just the cutest pair?" Lily's mother beams.
"The cutest" Matty's mother confirms.
Laughs and screeches and more gurgles and blah-blahs fill the air above the playpen. They are just the cutest pair.
"Isn't that sweet? It's like they have their own language." Mrs. Urchin observed.
"Baby talk" Matty's mother laughed.
If they only knew.
Over in the pen, the children came to an agreement.
"Look at those two, will ya?" Matty said. "All they ever do is drink that black stuff and suck on those smoky white straws."
"I know, Mommy's breath smells bad when she's done. It makes me cry when she picks me up."
"So, how've you been kid?"
"OK, I guess. I'm a year old, what trouble can I get into?" Lily smiles.
"Ha ha, I know. I can't wait until I'm two" Matty adds, "Even if I'm not terrible, I'll still be pretty bad!"
They both laugh.
The mothers both look over and laugh along. The sweetest things.
"Lily, any new toys here?" Matty searches around.
"Another dolly and that stuffed furry thing there. I call it "Bim Bim". Don't ask me why." Lilly muses. "He's soft".
"Let me see that "Bim" thing. I don't play with dolls. No offense." Matty apologizes.
"Yeah, it's like those truck things at your house. I don't mind."
"Is your mother making you crazy yet?" Matty inquires.
"She's always running over and wiping me. And she sniffs my bottom a lot. I don't know what that's about" Lily confesses.
"I hate when they do that" Matty agrees. "That and doing that 'Kootchie-Koo' when she strums my lips. She handles my poopie with those hands for crying out loud!" says Matty.
"I know. How do you do it?" Lily asks.
"Carefully," he warns. "I bite, you know."
The babies laugh uncontrollably. The mothers join in, not know what is so funny.
I have no idea what part of my mind this tripped out of. Last week's gooey sweetest has slipped to more rhyming--darkly. The meter isn't quite there, but my brain is fried, and you get the idea. (Wendy has lost her mind is the idea you should be getting.)
"Prithee, Spider, give me advice," asked the fairy, pretty and nice. "What would you know?" I had replied, measuring her wings, three bites wide. "Should I sleep in winter white with snow and awake in Spring, ready to grow?" "Where will you sleep, my pretty sweet?" I licked the air, wanting to eat. "There in the glade in the old dry tree, others will join me, plenty room free." "Haste ye there, my plump little fly, winter's upon us, and the frost is nigh." "Or perhaps I'll go off, fly to the south," She swiftly added, tapping her mouth. "Nay to sleep. It's sleep you must." Tasty wee fairies were known to trust. "It's as you've said, dear Spider friend. Plenty of winter for wings to mend." A flap of wings, and the slightest trip, my pincers so longed to tear and rip. Wait, my love, wait for more, One fairy gone means friends in store. “Careful," I warn. "I bite you know. Off you fly--here comes the snow." Closer I creep to the old glade tree, here they come, more fairies for me. Fairies in a row, all bundled up neat. Fairies all for me--a Christmas treat.
Thanks, Deb, you're sweet. Now, my mind keeps thinking up lame puns to go with this like: The spider is going to get a fairy tail. Ha ha! See. Not enough sleep.
I think that's why we don't have fairies around our house--too many spiders. I know when we got rid of all the spider webs in order to paint this summer, we wound up with a bunch of flies. I would assume the same is true of fairies.
Sometimes it sucked, being a vampire. Frozen in time with the body of a seventeen year old had its advantages and all but day after day? Century after century?
Why that putz couldn’t have waited until I was twenty five, or thirty at least…I might have better luck with the women. My life has been relegated to prowling high schools and cheer camps for my next girlfriend.
But tonight, I am in the arms of an experienced woman. A forty-something fantasy that is currently feeding me champagne and caviar.
“Careful,” I warn. “I bite, you know.”
Some genius in this decade invented a new being called a “cougar”.
"Careful," I warned. "I bite, you know."
ReplyDelete"Dude." A boy in a red polo shirt said, turning to his friend. "Did that zombie just talk to me?"
"Mm Hmm." Red's companion nodded as I slowly approached them, arms outstretched.
"Man, I told you I hated these cheap-ass haunted houses. Zombie's aren't supposed to talk, they just moan and shit." Red quipped.
"Mmmm..." I moaned exxagerating, as I closed this distance between myself and the boys. "Mmmm..."
"Yeah, totally lame." Red's friend quipped.
"Let's get out of here." Red called back. Nodding in agreement, his friend followed brushing right past me.
"You suck." Red offered in a hushed whisper as he passed by.
"Bite me." I said, unscathed.
The boys rounded the corner, headed towards Psycho Alley. Hope they were prepared to meet Jason and take a nice long run away from his chainsaw.
I stepped back into the shadows awaiting my next "victim," and pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights from my pocket.
"Punk ass kids." I mumbled, enjoying a long drag from my lit cigarette.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteEmily, "Punk ass kids", you can't live with 'em, but you can kill 'em! Good to know. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteLily Urchin sits in her playpen, tugging on her bunny's ears and dripping pablum down the front of her pretty pink dress. She gurgles and coos. She's just the precious thing.
ReplyDeleteHer eyes grow large with excitement. A familiar face beams down from above the rail. Aunt Chelsea, and that means just one thing. Her cousin Matty will be visiting. Her aunt lifts the boy over the side of the detention cube and walks to the kitchen table. She sits to a cup of coffee and a cigarette.
The two mothers shoot the breeze, glancing over toward the babies every now and again.
"Aren't they just the cutest pair?" Lily's mother beams.
"The cutest" Matty's mother confirms.
Laughs and screeches and more gurgles and blah-blahs fill the air above the playpen. They are just the cutest pair.
"Isn't that sweet? It's like they have their own language." Mrs. Urchin observed.
"Baby talk" Matty's mother laughed.
If they only knew.
Over in the pen, the children came to an agreement.
"Look at those two, will ya?" Matty said. "All they ever do is drink that black stuff and suck on those smoky white straws."
"I know, Mommy's breath smells bad when she's done. It makes me cry when she picks me up."
"So, how've you been kid?"
"OK, I guess. I'm a year old, what trouble can I get into?" Lily smiles.
"Ha ha, I know. I can't wait until I'm two" Matty adds, "Even if I'm not terrible, I'll still be pretty bad!"
They both laugh.
The mothers both look over and laugh along. The sweetest things.
"Lily, any new toys here?" Matty searches around.
"Another dolly and that stuffed furry thing there. I call it "Bim Bim". Don't ask me why." Lilly muses. "He's soft".
"Let me see that "Bim" thing. I don't play with dolls. No offense." Matty apologizes.
"Yeah, it's like those truck things at your house. I don't mind."
"Is your mother making you crazy yet?" Matty inquires.
"She's always running over and wiping me. And she sniffs my bottom a lot. I don't know what that's about" Lily confesses.
"I hate when they do that" Matty agrees. "That and doing that 'Kootchie-Koo' when she strums my lips. She handles my poopie with those hands for crying out loud!" says Matty.
"I know. How do you do it?" Lily asks.
"Carefully," he warns. "I bite, you know."
The babies laugh uncontrollably. The mothers join in, not know what is so funny.
What a pair! Just the cutest things!
I have no idea what part of my mind this tripped out of. Last week's gooey sweetest has slipped to more rhyming--darkly. The meter isn't quite there, but my brain is fried, and you get the idea. (Wendy has lost her mind is the idea you should be getting.)
ReplyDelete"Prithee, Spider, give me advice,"
asked the fairy, pretty and nice.
"What would you know?" I had replied,
measuring her wings, three bites wide.
"Should I sleep in winter white with snow
and awake in Spring, ready to grow?"
"Where will you sleep, my pretty sweet?"
I licked the air, wanting to eat.
"There in the glade in the old dry tree,
others will join me, plenty room free."
"Haste ye there, my plump little fly,
winter's upon us, and the frost is nigh."
"Or perhaps I'll go off, fly to the south,"
She swiftly added, tapping her mouth.
"Nay to sleep. It's sleep you must."
Tasty wee fairies were known to trust.
"It's as you've said, dear Spider friend.
Plenty of winter for wings to mend."
A flap of wings, and the slightest trip,
my pincers so longed to tear and rip.
Wait, my love, wait for more,
One fairy gone means friends in store.
“Careful," I warn. "I bite you know.
Off you fly--here comes the snow."
Closer I creep to the old glade tree,
here they come, more fairies for me.
Fairies in a row, all bundled up neat.
Fairies all for me--a Christmas treat.
These are all so great! :)
ReplyDeleteWendy, I wish my brain was as "fried" as yours! hahaha
Thanks, Deb, you're sweet. Now, my mind keeps thinking up lame puns to go with this like: The spider is going to get a fairy tail. Ha ha! See. Not enough sleep.
ReplyDeleteI think that's why we don't have fairies around our house--too many spiders. I know when we got rid of all the spider webs in order to paint this summer, we wound up with a bunch of flies. I would assume the same is true of fairies.
Sometimes it sucked, being a vampire. Frozen in time with the body of a seventeen year old had its advantages and all but day after day? Century after century?
ReplyDeleteWhy that putz couldn’t have waited until I was twenty five, or thirty at least…I might have better luck with the women. My life has been relegated to prowling high schools and cheer camps for my next girlfriend.
But tonight, I am in the arms of an experienced woman. A forty-something fantasy that is currently feeding me champagne and caviar.
“Careful,” I warn. “I bite, you know.”
Some genius in this decade invented a new being called a “cougar”.
Thanks, guys.
ReplyDeleteAwesome stuff... Love the Halloween themes on FF lately. What will be do after this weekend?!?
Love it, Deb! Short and edgy.
ReplyDelete