Huh?
Welcome to the inside of my mind. Sorry for the clutter. While in the realm of nonfiction, let me just say memory is a lousy filer. To the best of my recollections the following actually happened. Hopefully none of it will hold up in court, being hearsay from an unreliable witness.
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Come Into My Parlor
The squatter & I were in a standoff. She had made herself at home in the corner, 1 foot from the pillows at the head of my bed. I was fairly certain she was the one who had run across my face at 4 a.m. a few nights ago. Coffee is not nearly as jolting,…
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Sympathy for the Kraken
It’s no revelation that someone who can’t swim & has ‘the hydrophoby’ (couldn’t resist the reference to rabies from movies like Old Yeller) might not muse rhapsodically on water. Though I don’t recall my early bath times, my family likes to tell the story of toddler-me running naked through the house yelling “Betta hide!” when…
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Anatomy of a Scream
There’s a reason my curtains are drawn when it gets dark. For the majority of people the idea that those inside with the lights on are highly visible to any passing observer outside is unnerving enough. An added unwelcome effect is catching reflections of your movement in a room when you’re not expecting to. All…
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Solve for X
Movies entranced me as a kid. So much I thought I wanted to be an actor. Alas, performing is not in the wheelhouse of introverts. It’s said one can overcome stage-fright; even so, if it takes the fun out of something, why do it? Sans desire for applause, or even attention, there’s no point. I…
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Bring Out Your Dead
Many corpses have spent time in my freezer. Being a renter I never wanted to bury my small pets anywhere I’d move away from. A vat of Dermestid beetles would’ve been handy to keep the bones of my feathered, furry, & scaly friends in my display case. Technically I do still have some bones, in…
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Hitchhiker’s Guide to Banality
Childhood found me the author & illustrator of stapled-together books, some of which ran backwards because I confused right & left. Later I penned magazines & newspapers, all fictional. By the time I reached 7th grade, an English teacher trotted out that old chestnut ‘Write what you know.’ My life at that juncture consisted of…
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Huh? 