Friend in Deed

She tossed her purse and broken sandals over the fence, heard them land on the grass. It was an easy lift to the wall. Her toes gripped the cool brick surface and she stepped in delicate balance over the wire mesh, then dropped to the spongy dew-laden ground. She pranced on tiptoes across the small lawn and up the three steps to reach a sliding glass door. She pulled at the handle, making sure it opened before she turned to give a thumbs-up to the red Pinto idling at the curb. The headlights blipped and the car moved away.

The housing complex was dark and silent, as befit the suburban dead of night. Angie slipped into the apartment and felt her slow, careful way to the bedroom. She crouched down to make sure it was Javi’s shoulder she touched. She breathed his name. When he grunted back, she whispered.

‘Mind if I sleep here tonight?’

Javi flung the sheet back over the two boys sprawled between him and his wife. He patted the mattress at his hip.

‘Climb in,’

In the pitch-black bedroom, Angie felt a sudden rush of color burn her cheeks.

‘No, gracias.’ She smiled. “I’ll just crash on the sofa.’

She crept back to the living room and stood looking out over the moonlit garden.

‘Here’s a sheet,’ said Javi behind her, making her jump. She turned to watch him drape it over the couch. When he straightened, she also saw that he was buck naked.

‘That’s okay, Javi, thanks. Get back to sleep.’ She felt the flush return to her face as she sat down and poked at a cushion.

‘You okay?’ Javi asked. ‘What’s going on?’ He reached to squeeze her shoulder.

‘I’m fine. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.’ She glanced back at him, saw his penis drooping before her and waved him off.

‘Sorry about this,’ she said and lay down.

‘No problem.’ Javi yawned and turned to leave. ‘See you in the morning.’

 

 

 333 words for   including  color (noun) 3: complexion tint: a : the tint characteristic of good health b : blush

 

 

Possibility of Dreams

She wrote the dream in disappearing ink and tore it into pieces. Tossing her poem in the air, she filled an invisible cloud with truth and possibility, then blew it out to sea.

  want 33 words inspired by this quote. Community vote Sunday night-Monday morning.

“It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.” ― Paulo Coelho, Alchemist

Epiphany

   “Isn’t it strange,” you said, looking at me as if I personified strangeness, “how we fall in love with such unexpected people.” You ran one long finger down my nose. “There’s not a bit of logic, no reason to it at all.”

   I laughed my jaded laugh and said, “Speak for yourself. It’s obvious why I fell in love with you. I’ve never known a man so good, so kind.” I smiled and smiled at you, but you looked at me with an expression that felt like disdain. The subject changed, we made love, we fell asleep. All the next morning I was dogged by that look of yours. I was still pondering what could be wrong when I started out to meet you in the square. Something about that balmy winter midday made me cut through the park and stop at the little bridge over the artificial pond. As I looked over the darkly green pool, I felt a tremor run through me, though there was no breeze, just the sun’s jagged reflection off the still water. Some deep-rooted alchemy was causing a seismic shift in my core. Then it settled.

 

   Later, you were loping towards me outside the train station, smiling your bright, sunny smile.

   “Remember what I said about loving you because you’re such a good man?”

   You still smiled, but less so.

   “That’s not quite true.” I said.

   Your smile was almost gone.

   “I would have fallen in love with you even if you were a wife beater or a serial killer, because that’s how crazy true love is. I just lucked out, is all.”

   Your smile exploded. You tried to whisk me off my feet and we almost fell to the ground in a flapping, quivering pile. You were like a big puppy that way, a big Saint Bernard puppy whose whole body could exude happiness. Allowing myself to inhabit your waggling hug, I marveled at how simple it turned out to be to make someone else happy.

333 words, including the one  wanted: ALCHEMY (noun)  3: an inexplicable or mysterious transmuting

Advice

                             "Always... No, wait. Never..." -Steve Martin

If you’re gonna do a thing half assed, make sure you don’t give a shit later when it sucks. But what I said to the kid was: I don’t know; ask your mother.

For the weekend  wanted some advice in 33 words.

Rain (April Fool's Day version)

Chuck got a job as soon as it was legal at the one place worth working in Ashmut. Starting as a stockboy at sixteen, he figured on making foreman after high school. The night he proposed to Linda, he confessed his ambition to one day become manager. Shit, with a little luck, company president before he retired, gold watch and all, like old man Cutting. Linda smiled, glad she had chosen the one boy in town with some fire under him.
 

Linda’s dream was to dance in a Broadway show, maybe even the movies. Her dance teacher was enthusiastic about her talent, and Chuck was sure his Linda would one day be a star. He was ready to make the sacrifice of holding down the fort while she went off on tour. Chuck wasn’t the travelling type, anyway, and neither of them was anxious to start a family. They talked about it at Christmas sometimes.

By the time they were thirty, Chuck and Linda had stopped talking about executive suites and tour buses. Chuck was senior forklift operator, not a managerial position. Linda was teaching yoga out at the community college, where she got a faculty discount on dance classes. They still talked about starting a family, usually while Christmas shopping.

On Linda’s thirty-third birthday, Chuck stood at the teller’s window counting his pay. ‘Tell ya what,’ he said to the teller. ‘Do me a favor and give me a hundred ones.’

The teller shrugged, as tellers do, and then complied, as she would do every Friday for the next fifteen years.

When Chuck got home, he gave Linda her present, an authentic Las Vegas poledancing outfit. ‘Dance for me babe,’ he said. He loaded his wife’s music on the player, poured a drink, pulled up chair and waited. Linda came out of the bedroom dancing and didn’t stop until the rain of singles ended, three songs later.

Chuck drained his glass, knocked back the chair, and gave his wife a standing ovation.

This week,  are getting 333 words from an April Fool's Day 3rd definition of:
rain (transitive verb)  3: to take a lot of money in bill form and toss it up in the air. This is most effectively done at a strip club for the effect of raining one dollar bills on the dancers (and it makes them feel so pretty), or to snub a hater by throwing money into their face that then falls to the floor like rain (use this when paying a debt to a punk bitch who keeps asking for their money to the point that they are ruining your friendship or when dumping someone who has been bankrolling you for a while now that you're making money).

Red Sun in Morning

Be prepared for white squalls. When the question is do you or don’t you, will you or won’t you, it’s time to trim the sails, pour a whiskey and batten down the hatches.

This weekend  are asking for exactly 33 words including an idiom somewhere within.
Also, 31/3/13 today.

A Dabbler's Tale

Artists call them happy accidents. A blob of cobalt blue grabs onto the paintbrush when you were dipping into the cerulean, turns into an awesome lake below that Provençal sky, and rocks the watercolor landscape. Never mind that you were going abstract. The painting has a life of its own.

So it is when this guy you have lined up for a quick fuck turns out to be Prince Charming. You make a grab for the red lace but end up with a maternity bra and elastic-waist undies. Mortgage, braces, college tuition. You wish you could say you’d had it planned, but we all know you just caught a lucky break. And of course you flaunt it. Who wouldn’t? Only someone who’d actually deserved it would be humble and self-effacing. Not you. In your face, betches.

Now, and here’s the unforgiveable part, you’ve bought it, hook, line and sinker. Benevolent universe bestows wealth of love and inner peace upon walking disaster. What’s not to love? So you begin fiddling with the cornerstones of your life, changing the very shape of your existence to reflect this incomprehensible gift. It’s scary, but Prince Charming is right next to you, laughing his ass off, setting out the cement mixer and stacking up the bricks.

You forget about the things artists don’t mention. Some are called Canvas in the Fireplace or Manuscript in the Toilet. Others have headlines like Barbiturates in the Vodka or Razorblades in the Bath. Prince Charming’s oncologist called it the Luck of the Draw. You can call it anything you want, though. It’s still just the fat lady singing.

So, the landscape you were painting goes all abstract on you. The sky that’s supposed to be cerulean turns a yellow paisley, and the lake you want to drown in skates away, leaving skid marks on the checkerboard floor. When all you ever hear anymore is one long, sad aria, there’s nothing left to do but yawp that fat bitch off the fucking stage.

 

 

Exactly 333 for who offers us LUCKY (adjective) 3: producing or resulting in good by chance : favorable