If Sunday Is for Vampire Why Am I Watching Lethal Weapon


I have the collection and as the marathon continues on it occurs to me it never occurred to me how often Mel Gibson gets naked – he owns the love scenes, or wakes up in the morning and walks away from the camera. Well, wha’d’ya’know, he sleeps naked too. Hit the pause button, crack a beer and sit back… nah, I’d go for an ice cold martini, salute, let the movie play and don’t be lookin’ for a tip.

I remember, don’t ask why the thought was triggered, when I was in medical and finally getting back to school – can’t be promoted to doctor after all – that it took me a minute to put my finger on what was different at the university… the lightbulb came on and I laughed at myself – everyone was dressed. It would have made more sense, or wouldn’t have phased me if most of the student population walked around naked. Changing dressings, helping folks to the bathroom, changing sheets and chux, keeping on top of skin care, bed sores, in other words seeing nudity most of the day, every day, I think gives a healthier outlook, a different appreciation you could call it. There was one woman I just might always remember who had an open wound that needed to be packed each day. It was a wide smile across her generously rotund belly. We looked forward to seeing each other to BS recipes. I removed the gauze, pulled out the thin packing strips, cleansed it of course, packed it again, covered it with fresh gauze… what did we talk about during the procedure but meatloaf recipes. Now in my family we had a specific way using tomato soup as a sauce, the benefit being potatoes, carrots, onions could be cut up, spread around the loaf, and the whole thing could bubble to perfection in the oven – a one pot meal. As I worked I felt aware of how far I’d come in this profession, what terrific people I’d met, nudity, not nudity didn’t matter and appreciated the humor of our discussion over a sliced open belly, the same to me as not opened at all.

Good times.


Sunday Is For Vampire


“Have you considered murder?” “Why murder? I can leave them alive in the state of what they fear and hate then make popcorn sit back and watch the show. Will they create more of their kind, kill themselves because they are now one of ‘those monsters’, or jump on the bandwagon thanks to the thirst? Place your bets. How many will voluntarily wait for the sunrise to set themselves free? I mean, murder, how barbaric!”


They both laughed. Living on animal blood, minding their business, traveling, enjoying afterlife, then a nut job, some slayer descendent shows up, kills a human and blames them. Did he know what they were? He turned out to be a murderer who concocted a story. Talk about tough breaks.


“I think we should bring them to the island and put a boundary around it they can’t cross. Only vampires, no human blood, and we can observe… from a safe distance.”


Grinning he pulled her close. She’d been a brilliant doctor when she was alive. Poisoned by a colleague, comatose he’d found her. He’d hoped she’d be able to help him.


As it turned out she was…







(191 words)


Prompt: Have you considered murder?



Sweet Dreams


Moved myself to an inner room though I was upstairs. Sobering experience? Well, I’ve been through them before, in fact in my medical days I drove in them and when I first began teaching I walked during them with hail pelting down so hard it stung my legs. We haven’t had extreme tornado issues in a while. Last night was a doozy! The wind was strong enough to wake me and then sirens went off, so much for that. I walked through the apartment listening until they stopped then went into a different bedroom and settled, took the video I was dozing through off pause and conked back out. A thunderstorm followed so I walked through again and looked out a kitchen window. Sheets of hail and rain were coming down, everything was blowing, and I wondered what it was going to look like in the daylight.


That remains to be seen.



The Wrong Man’s Daughter


“It looks as if it’s grown over it, except… it’s plastic… they’re both plastic. There’s no way.” Millie had to laugh to herself. The plants seemed changed and the pink jewel in them caught in thickened vines but the only way that could be was if the Cory Catfish had moved it further down into the foliage nuzzling around the tank as it feasted on food that’d settled at the bottom. “The water is the clearest it’s been since we’d bought it. How with such a tiny pump?”

She sighed then started looking out the window. “Did that grow overnight?”





This week’s prompt is very simple:  PINK


No Title Yet

She sat in the café taking a break from reading. Watching the clock and checking the iPad Mini Trudy knew she’d have to get back to work soon. There was enough time though for another coffee so far resisting temptation to order food; after all there was plenty in the fridge and if she didn’t get to it she’d get to throw it away. Hard choices. Everything smelled soooo good.

“I’ve more self control than that. Hmmfh. Think I’ll walk.”

She pushed back and didn’t budge. “I’m at a booth. There’s determination!” Laughing out loud Trudy headed out the door and toward another café. “Always’ve been curious about the place; hopefully they won’t serve lunch… Grab an espresso, test out their cappuccino prowess and walk back to work. That ought to do it.

Give me time to think about what I want to title this thing…”

Alive and Well


Ravens rested on the rocks of a lighthouse perch

“They look more like vultures between the gulls” I thought

While the sun shone strong in my dirty window as I

Reflected on my walk, the one I just took

It’s not my home but will be though temporarily

As for the apartment, excuse me; flat, it’s a benefit

A perk of my trade giving me more reason to stay


There was one alighted in the tree just outside of me

Another raven of course and the sun hid

Not on purpose I hope, on my account, an omen perhaps

The pale blue sky like some eyes I’ve seen and clouds

Wait for spring to battle winter

No defining color, that is typical for here I’ve learned

Bland fashion


Well in two days it’s March

Make up your mind soon so I know what to wear


Not that dampness, cold fingers from the sea really care

Meanwhile my jacket isn’t dry; the fan in my room

Makes it seem all the colder outside.

I can see out the window with no sun, but even with it

Should it decide to shine, the raven’s still there

It won’t leave my side or sight


Cue a flock of ravens to sail the sky, do they cry evermore

If you’d like, but at the same time the seagulls don’t mind

Unmoved by all going on while pigeons coo

They cover cobblestone, their domain, peck scraps here and there,

And get chased by the children, kicked away by adults


Everyone’s too busy, even the birds

Unable to pause and give day the time

Thick crowds form a sea of heads on the shore

I look up and the raven is not alone, there’re more

Many more, more than I can say for me


“Is it a gathering?”

And I wonder what for


Morning Toast


He was going to kill her…


That’s a hell of a way to start off, but it was true…


He was going to kill her, but she kept arguing, she’d had enough, no backing down. She was leaving him and that was that. His berating and ultimate demands had no effect. She just yelled back.

That was it so he bellowed. If he couldn’t have her no one was going to. “Are we in the movies? Gee how original!” He spun on his heels bolting to their bedroom that housed the safe with his gun and knife collection. She glanced down the hall. She could run and get to the stairs leading down to the door and freedom before he came back.

She’d waited too long. As she stepped out he came. “I’m going to find out what it’s like to be stabbed or shot.” She stood unsure then hit the floor beside the couch as he lunged through the living room door.

Nothing happened.

Gingerly she began to lift her head. He was standing there in triumph nothing in his hands arms open as if in jest. “Ha!” She looked at him and stood. “Now you think of that! Next time I might do something!” He was self-satisfied smiling to himself. She walked toward him, incredulous, silent, violating norms of personal space and began wailing and flailing. “You wanted to scare me? You were fucking with me? I thought I was going to get hurt. The next time you say you’re going to do something you’d better do it don’t mess with me you piece of shit, you gonna kill me then kill me…” she kept screaming at him as if she were standing outside herself watching the sad scenario almost comical not believing she was telling the son-of-a-bitch he’d better kill her the next time he threatens her or else! He didn’t even try to defend himself. Like a confused dog, one ear drooping one raised in an effort to understand the command he stood there paralyzed. He’d stopped smiling.

She stopped realizing she wasn’t even trembling, grabbed her suede jacket, shoulder bag and keys, and left. Nice day for a walk she headed to her folks’ for coffee.


“Did I really say that? Jesus.”


They knew their teacher wouldn’t be there today. What they’d wind up with was another story. Subs weren’t what they used to be, not that they’d been around all that long but long enough to know something wasn’t right with the young ones who spent more time on their cell phones than they did talking to the class.

Stay tuned.

The eight of them were gathered outside the classroom door. Locked! Up the stairs she came. “Don’t tell me they’ve locked us out” she began to say when one blurted, “we’ve got the witch!” She looked at him but he was happy, and had excitedly thrown his hands in the air in celebration. “Witch! Because I have curly hair! Witch!” She turned to see who she could find with a key as a monitor reached the top of the stair and let them in. “I didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t talking about you” the boy had nervously sputtered. “You didn’t say anything until you saw me.” She wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

They all got situated. “Come up front and sign this sheet. We’ll use it for attendance. You know,” she said as they gathered round the desk, if I were a witch I’d have turned you into a frog by now and wouldn’t turn you back until you’d caught an insect with your tongue and swallowed it.” “I ain’t eatin’ no bugs’ he nervously replied to everyones’ laughter, his eyes darting around the room. “Einstein had hair like this. Wouldn’t you be better off saying ‘hey it’s that teacher with the crazy Einstein hair’?”

The others went back to their seats smiling but he hadn’t replied, distracted by a partially webbed fly on the windowsill.