Saturday, June 11, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Let Me See...
Words for this one: ocean, investigate, polish. I left it on "common" complexity. Maybe these are a bit too common....
Let me see....
In the depths of earliest morning, when only cats and alcoholics are awake, Leonardo found himself awake too. He hated cats and the most ferocious thing he ever drank was black tea. Yet he was awake. He could get out of bed and investigate what woke him but that would require reserves of energy and willpower that he did not have. Not at such an hour as this. Not when the sun had hours before lifting, not when his pillow conformed to his head and cradled his neck ever so expertly. Not when the cotton sheets cooled his desire for anything more than sleep. Or sex. But that wasn't gonna happen. As he lie there thinking about his computer and his secret porn file, he realized he wasn't gonna get more sleep either.
So he got out of bed.
He put on a robe, one of silk with a crest on it, as if he lived in a mansion with a grotto and a sand volley ball court. And babes strewn about the lawn like bouncy balls on a padded floor of a daycare. And Polish sausages on every man--well, except for the occasional Vienna sausage.
In the living room, Leonardo stood and listened. Above him, in the apartment identical to his but with a woman in it, he could hear stomping. He knew this neighbor to be a small woman, both short and skinny. She had never bothered him before. But this was bothering him. It didn't have the regular beat of a sexual encounter and he couldn't hear any moans or other vocalizations indicative of sex. It sounded like she was squashing bugs.
Securing his robe, he left his apartment, climbed the exterior steps to his neighbor's landing, and stood before her door. He didn't have to knock.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said as she opened her door. She wore a robe, much like his, only short and bright pink. His was red. And long. She wore stiletto heels on her feet and they were dirty, the red leather stained purple or black. Her robe opened at the chest and he could see she wore nothing underneath. His Vienna sausage grew into something more Polish. He looked past her into her living room and saw what it was all about. A potential ocean of possibilities opened before him.
"Is that...a hand?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "But it's not mine. I mean, it is now but it wasn't when I got it. Will you come in? It's not exactly warm out."
Leonardo stepped into his neighbor's home and she shut the door behind him.
to
be
continued
Let me see....
In the depths of earliest morning, when only cats and alcoholics are awake, Leonardo found himself awake too. He hated cats and the most ferocious thing he ever drank was black tea. Yet he was awake. He could get out of bed and investigate what woke him but that would require reserves of energy and willpower that he did not have. Not at such an hour as this. Not when the sun had hours before lifting, not when his pillow conformed to his head and cradled his neck ever so expertly. Not when the cotton sheets cooled his desire for anything more than sleep. Or sex. But that wasn't gonna happen. As he lie there thinking about his computer and his secret porn file, he realized he wasn't gonna get more sleep either.
So he got out of bed.
He put on a robe, one of silk with a crest on it, as if he lived in a mansion with a grotto and a sand volley ball court. And babes strewn about the lawn like bouncy balls on a padded floor of a daycare. And Polish sausages on every man--well, except for the occasional Vienna sausage.
In the living room, Leonardo stood and listened. Above him, in the apartment identical to his but with a woman in it, he could hear stomping. He knew this neighbor to be a small woman, both short and skinny. She had never bothered him before. But this was bothering him. It didn't have the regular beat of a sexual encounter and he couldn't hear any moans or other vocalizations indicative of sex. It sounded like she was squashing bugs.
Securing his robe, he left his apartment, climbed the exterior steps to his neighbor's landing, and stood before her door. He didn't have to knock.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said as she opened her door. She wore a robe, much like his, only short and bright pink. His was red. And long. She wore stiletto heels on her feet and they were dirty, the red leather stained purple or black. Her robe opened at the chest and he could see she wore nothing underneath. His Vienna sausage grew into something more Polish. He looked past her into her living room and saw what it was all about. A potential ocean of possibilities opened before him.
"Is that...a hand?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "But it's not mine. I mean, it is now but it wasn't when I got it. Will you come in? It's not exactly warm out."
Leonardo stepped into his neighbor's home and she shut the door behind him.
to
be
continued
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