My head was singing a familiar song. It was in the key of “A” minor concussion. The song was terrible.
From the sound of the tune I couldn’t be not sure if I had been black jacked, pistol whipped or if I just simply succumbed to the foul smell of the foul smelling man. It read a mystery to me, one I feared I would not have the pleasure to solve.
I gradually became reacquainted with my surroundings and found myself not where I left my me. All my metaphors were as scrambled as fried eggs.
I was in a dark room, lit by a naked, inept and shameless light bulb which dangled languidly above my head with no regard for my feelings. Shadows sauntered and loped both though my mind and across the walls. That was to be expected.
Continue reading “Mo’ Mummies Mo’ problems Pt. 2”
Jimmy Jam and the Bedtime Ka-Blam
Most every child detests bed time.
Sure, there’s always that one exception to the rule and because of that a small percentage of children go off to bed without a hint of protest and they sleep without tossing and turning or wetting themselves and they only have pleasant dreams.
You know pleasant dreams, the kind of dreams that come with with lots of flying, magic powers and cats that always stay kittens and have fur made of cotton candy.
Pleasant dreams and children who go to bed without a fuss are equally rare and when they occur, they are supposed to be cherished by those who are lucky enough to have them in their lives.
Continue reading “Jimmy Jam and the Bedtime Ka-Blam”
It was looking bad. I didn’t like this at all.
What was I going to do?
I think both my thumbs were left thumbs.
There was no way to be sure. Not this time of morning. Curse my recently uncursed luck. Wanda, my witch doctor, was practically paying her mortgage unhexing me. As long as I still had one thumb on each hand did it matter?
Maybe they were both right thumbs? Who had the right to say? I’m not an armchair thumbologist on my best day, let alone a professional one on a work day.
Continue reading “Mo’ Mummies Mo’ Problems Pt. 1”
Jimmy Jam was 6. He was the coolest kid in town and everyone knew it. Everyone. The mailman, the firemen, and even the man at the ice cream store- in addition to all the neighbors. If Jimmy Jam met someone who didn’t know he was the coolest kid in town, he’d tell them. Then they’d know.
He had a leather motorcycle jacket that his favorite uncle had given him before he was born, because his uncle was a wizard, he already knew how cool Jimmy would be.
Continue reading “Jimmy Jam And The Bath Time Scam”