Week 2 of my micro pieces. A completely different side of my writing--the therapeutic, artsy side.
Testosterone
The newlywed wife ran screaming out of the house—slowed down from all her extra weight. "Help me! He's trying to kill me!" She pleaded at the oncoming truck as she ran from her yard out into the street. The truck told her he didn't want to get involved and then drove off leaving her standing alone desperate in the street. Who felt more like a man that day; the guy fleeing or the guy choking his new wife?
Pink Ain't Lady Like
The power went out. Usually it was secondary to a storm or some fool hitting a telephone pole with their car. This outage, however, was the result of failure to pay. The home owners sat in the dead silence, as though parts of their brains had now been unplugged. The next few minutes were filled with questions and cursing and with brain-unplugged actions, like attempting to switch on a light in order to look for matches to light a candle so they could see better. Yes, parts of their brains were unplugged. The electricity executioner stood on the front steps attaching a bright pink note to the door; a beaten leather tool belt wrapped loosely around her soiled jeans.
The home owner spotted the executioner as she marched her boots back down the front steps. "Ma'am. Did you turn my power off?
"Yes, I did. But I left you a pink note."
Now Reading:
*Carus & Mitch - Tim Major
Testosterone
The newlywed wife ran screaming out of the house—slowed down from all her extra weight. "Help me! He's trying to kill me!" She pleaded at the oncoming truck as she ran from her yard out into the street. The truck told her he didn't want to get involved and then drove off leaving her standing alone desperate in the street. Who felt more like a man that day; the guy fleeing or the guy choking his new wife?
Pink Ain't Lady Like
The power went out. Usually it was secondary to a storm or some fool hitting a telephone pole with their car. This outage, however, was the result of failure to pay. The home owners sat in the dead silence, as though parts of their brains had now been unplugged. The next few minutes were filled with questions and cursing and with brain-unplugged actions, like attempting to switch on a light in order to look for matches to light a candle so they could see better. Yes, parts of their brains were unplugged. The electricity executioner stood on the front steps attaching a bright pink note to the door; a beaten leather tool belt wrapped loosely around her soiled jeans.
The home owner spotted the executioner as she marched her boots back down the front steps. "Ma'am. Did you turn my power off?
"Yes, I did. But I left you a pink note."
Now Reading:
*Carus & Mitch - Tim Major
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