Georgia tells me she hates reading comic sans. Wiki tells me the euro used to have eyes:
Georgia tells me she hates reading comic sans. Wiki tells me the euro used to have eyes:
Lately I have been deep in my uni thesis. This has meant I have basically been reading and re-reading and re-re-re-re-re-re-re-reading my own work. I am so sick of it. I don’t want to read those same words again.
The tower contained only one scroll of parchment and one quill. When she’d filled the parchment she was quite pleased. It was a good story about damsels and dragons.
Years later and she does not see it that way. Every word has been scratched out and replaced several times. She had read it so many times, she’d managed to find several overarching metaphors that revealed her inner psyche, one of which seemed to point to her being reincarnated later in the eternal hell of a strange man’s body who folk called “Kyle Sandilands”. She’d spend all day staring at the reality of the smooth round wall that surrounded her only to dream of being trapped in a worse prison.
So one day, with no ink left in the pen, she ripped up every word of the foul text and rearranged them. It took her months to find a combination that worked. But as she worked, her nightmares about the man folk called Sir Sandilands began to fade. Eventually she had re-written her story. The dragon’s wings had been cut by a beautiful and deadly damsel, but the dragon was cunning and built a new pair.
When she woke that morning, she was flying through the clouds. The tower was a distant speck, and her scales felt warm in the sun.
PS. Tomorrow I will be exactly half-way through my challenge! So I’m hopping on my friend Sam’s radio show and writing a story for him live on air! Tune in to phoenixradio anytime from 3:30-4:40.
I’m going to be doing some filming for a lecturer. He opened the official employee form and suddenly the energy was sucked from the room. He looked at me, I looked at him, I could sense we both agreed: forms are the most boring bores of borevill. But perhaps not all…
What is your current fitness level?
Are you bilingual?
Are you willing to brave harrowing winds?
Is your hearing sensitive to high and prolonged tones?
How much fabric weight can you bear?
Can you battle against strange sparkly creatures under the pressure of a watching audience?
Are you scared of heights, gimp suits and/or have an irrational fear of white pants?
Please click “submit” to lodge your application as a Eurovision Song Contest contestant.
Dee and Susan don’t like reading slang in the wrong context.
Darren has no TV, no internet and speaks mostly to his cattle. He likes making up sayings. His latest is “y’all” as in “y’all ready to be milked?” and “booyah” as in “can I get a booyah milk’s making some moolah!”On Sundays he covers his white ute in Northern Territory rust as he drives into Town for his weekly “scratch-off” (scratchie). People in town don’t understand his sayings.
“Mate I don’t think po po’s gonna catch on, stick to blue heelers.”
One day, Darren wins his scratch-off. He books plane tickets to America, it’s the first brochure he picks up at the travel agents.
When he arrives the girl says “An Australian? Booyah!”
Everyone in America understands Darren. But Darren hates it, his one unique talent has been taken from him. When Darren gets back to the farm, he comes up with all new words. “Stonking” “porkies” and “chip-butty” are a few of his favourites, he’s sure no one’s thought of those.
Sommer told me on twitter she really doesn’t want to read stories about “Teenaged girls who are introverts who hate everyone but everyone loves them.” Sorry Sommer- I’m about to write one.
Britney had nothing to say to anyone, but it just made her more aloof. Boys would blurt out her name in the school corridor trying to get her attention. She got headphones to block them out but it just made her cooler. She bought ill-fitting old clothes so people wouldn’t notice her, but the girls just copied her. When she finished school, she took up art so she wouldn’t have to speak to anyone, but being elusive just made her exhibitions into a cult hit. If Britney had just given someone the time of day, they would have realised she really didn’t have anything to say, and poor vacant Britney could have lived in peace.
Tash also hates world-building for world-building’s sake. So I gave it a go and tried to explain as well.
Every morning at World Builders Co. the builders check in to the Universe Studio. Universe Studio is a testing ground universe on the outskirts of the Multiverse where World Builder Co constructs new worlds and flat packs them to be shipped all over the multiverse. Although at the current rate the company is expanding, the urban metropolis of the Multiverse CBD will soon swallow their studio.
The craftspeople are always first to arrive. Sculpting new landscapes in minute detail is a never ending and thankless task. Geneticists are also fairly early risers as experimenting with new flora and fauna is a slow and unpredictable process. Lastly, after enjoying a good rest in one of their private purpose-built worlds, the imaginators will put in a few hours of work. Talking into the speakers, they will describe new components for the crafters and geneticists to add to their to-do lists.
No-one is sure why the company continues to thrive, given most worlds are bought as spares which will never be seen in all their minute detailed glory. We can only assume it is an old hang-up of our species, left over from the traumatic demise of the Milky Way.
This month’s theme is ‘conflict’ and lately I’ve been writing in genres that people tell me they hate to see if I can make them better. But today I’m breaking out for just one story as I got the most genuinely odd suggestion from @STREETUND1ES today on twitter. They have a conflict of their own “why do undies sometimes find themselves on the street?” In fact that’s what their entire website is about: streetundies.com. I felt this was a pressing issue that needed to be resolved so here is my story.
SUPERMAN BECOMES THE FLASH(ER)
After Superman was spotted last week without his trademark red underwear, the trend of throwing one’s underwear to the curb is on the rise. Like the burning of the bra in the 1960s many citizens took to the street today to throw out their underwear. Here at BreakingGoodnews.com we’re just hoping PM Tony Abbott doesn’t catch on and let his red speedos fly free.
A prompt from Georgia Welly today. She hates “terms and Conditions – nobody ever reads them and it seems like a great waste of the written word.” So here is my attempt at some terms and conditions.
Terms & Conditions:
1.1 The subject is only required to read the sections they find entertaining.
2.1 In the event the subject finds the terms and conditions boring the subject must print the terms and conditions and fold them into a hat. Please see the appendices for origami instructions.
3.1 If the subject is reading the terms and conditions in the workplace they must pretend the reading is hard work and
3.2 If the subject finishes the document at work they must reward themselves with a communal biscuit.
3.3. If the subject does not have access to communal treats, the subject is required to steal a treat of a co-worker from the fridge or at the least buy something from the vending machine.
4.1 If the subject is still reading at this point in the document, the subject should know the author is single.
4.2 If the subject enjoys sci-fi, comedy and listening to the dulcet tones of a snort laugher the subject may consider calling 036745745
4.3 If the subject calls the aforementioned number but enjoyed the Phantom Menace the author reserves the right to at any point terminate the call.
[ ] Tick box to agree to terms and conditions
Also…some terms and conditions of my own… please don’t call that made up number- I cannot guarantee a humorous nerd will answer.
So I’m giving made up facts a go. Heidi please forgive me.
Introverts are shy. Shy people are rude. I should be loud. Loud people are better, loud people are heard. Which is why I know for sure that climate change is fake, refugees are illegal and mascara will make me confident. So the next day I put on mascara, and I am loud. I tell everyone; people who skip to work are 100% happier, tickling your boss will give you a promotion and all shy people have a telepathic connection.
Also here’s a little observation of mine. If I had time I used to like getting my stories out of the way. They were a big stress and if they were done I could stop freaking out. But lately I’ve been writing them toward the end of my study days as a treat. Is this the beginning of Freya the Writer 2.0?
I think Tash and Sommer are in agreeance about privileged white men whining.
I imagine this set out like a kids book.
Ed wanted to find love.
So he looked for love.
“Are you love?” he asked the girl walking home from the bus that night.
But she just clutched her keys a little tighter and scurried off.
“Are you love?” he asked the girl with the purple blooms on her face.
But she just hid her face a little deeper in her scarf.
“Are you love?” he asked the girl with the red lips.
But she just put on more make up.
Ed was looking but he did not see.
Losing faith, he asked one more time.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for love. Are you her?” he asked the girl in a suit.
But she buried her nose further into her book.
Feeling angry and marginalised,
Ed gave up.
I was getting a little worries that I wasn’t getting any prompts, but asketh the Twitter and thee shall receiveth in abundance! Thank you twitter people! First up it’s Sue’s dislike for reading Government documents.
So I’ve given the govt. report style a go. I haven’t had time today to write all 200 pages that would normally be needed so I’ve just written an introduction…
Our Aim: To better understand BDRGRRS and prevent the spread of BDRGRRS for a healthier government workforce.
The annual BDRGRRS report aims to continue to understand BDRGRRS and BDRGRRS sufferers. In this report BDRGRRS stands for Brain Decay Related to Government Report Reading Sessions.
1. BDRGRRS cases occur most frequently in Government Departments such as Finance and least in Arts related departments.
2. Since the advent of the annual BDRGRRS report. BDRGRRS has risen by 60%
3. BDRGRRS must continue to run in order to better understand preventative health measures for BDRGRRS.
Unfortunately it’s that time of semester where everything is due. I’m doing a lot of academic reading and sitting next to a lot of other stressed students in the library. I don’t think many of us enjoy reading unnecessarily complicated academic writing- so I’m going to give it a go in the name of my fellow students.
She read rhizomatically through incomprehensible dense thickets of theories.
Inundated with delphic propositions she nearly drowned.
To this day she still has hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia.
Sam sent in many suggestions she also hates “Exotic places made it all better” stories. She liked my “pet redeemed me” story- lets hope this one goes down just as well!
Alejandro was bored of living in the Amazon. He was bored of riding his pet Jaguar, bored of swimming with the pink dolphins, and bored of his pet Tapir. So he packed his things and became an explorer.
He travelled to the furthest most exotic place he could, Canberra. Apparently their jungle was made from concrete, they rode on metal boxes, and their king was an orange man in red undies.
When Alejandro arrived it was just as strange and foreign as he’d imagined. But he had not been prepared for the sad grey suited people that lined the streets or the endless shopping centres filled with useless junk. Even the orange king turned out to spout repetitive hurtful things to the people. Jaguar was a brand of brand of metal box there, dolphins were grey and no one had ever heard of Tapir. He missed his Tapir, it was so sad that no-one here had ever even seen one.
So he left for home. Knowing how lucky he truly was and what real boredom looked like, he decided to sponsor some poor suited Australians. Each year he takes some to the Amazon and shows them a Tapir. Alejandro has never been bored again.
Henri was a shift worker. During the day he was an acrobat soaring above the crowd and at night when he woke, he would stack shelves in Coles. Unfortunately it was all a dream and he was left wondering why he was having recurring dreams about Coles.
Matt hates “it was all a dream stories”. I hope this one is acceptable to you Matt.
JJ told me she hates “shopping ‘guides’ where a t-shirt is $450″ It made me wonder what it would be like if we could sell other things like fashion.
This season the titter is the new black. We love Chuckleshop‘s “timeless titter.” At just $450 for a straight brainstallation your laughing. Make sure you don’t get a cheap one as they often have snort-laugh glitches.
Couple this with Fast Wit‘s new “fun’n’flirty” humour software ($845) this spring and you’ll be the centre of attention at every party. Other Witware is available but getting something that makes you too fast and too intellectual can be unflattering and scare others off (eek!).
Our last pick for this spring is the new natural scent from BYO BO. This fun new company has set up a range of scents that can be injected straight into the glands, and last an entire season so you don’t have to worry about embarrassing BO. We recommend the sultry but fresh “Paris Kiss” (just $600 this spring only).
For “Conflict in May” I’m stepping it up a bit and asking what type of writing/stories people hate and then attempting it myself. Sam told me she hates “My pet redeemed me” stories. I thought about it and the closest I’d got was my “Giant” series where a Giant befriends a dog called Rupert- I’ve decided it’s time for part 3 of the Giant series. I hope we can still be internet friends after this Sam…
Read Part 1 here
And Part 2 here
Others still scared of Giant. Giant and Rupert built cave extension by stealing from them. Giant and Rupert feel selfish. No one to appreciate fine bone mosaic.
Rupert suggest we get pet human. Rupert find perfect human in woods. Human is scruffy with beard and cute glass eye covers. Human even come own metal tag on chain.
One day Human brought back other strays. Poor humans have half shaved heads. Some even have metal bits in their face. Giant and Rupert not selfish. Giant and Rupert open doors to all mistreated humans.
Rupert steal human drink from town (hot brown water). Giant find mushrooms in woods for humans to eat. Giant even play music, Giant only knows one note but humans don’t notice. Humans appreciate bone mosaic too.
I was asked by nice buy Brisbane writer Chris White (see his blog Chris White Writes) to join in the #MyWritingProcess Blog tour (It’s like a normal tour but you don’t have to walk and there are a thousand guides). Alls I need do is answer these four questions and I’m in!
What are you working on right now?
Right right now? I’m not sure yet-hopefully someone will tell me soon. I’m writing a different short story every day for a year based on people’s suggestions.
How does your work differ from that of other writers in your genre?
Not sure I have a genre. Mostly I’m writing whatever people tell me to – I guess that’s my difference.
Why do you write what you do?
I’m experimenting like a mad writing scientist at the moment. Basically I’m like Jon Snow, I know nothing, so I’m writing every day to learn things and improve. Surely one of the 365 stories I’ll produce this year will be good right? Also I like entertaining people. If one person reads my story for the day and is amused by it then I’m happy.
How does your writing process work?
Panic. Google things. Frown at stuff/people. Bash keyboard (or scribble on paper). Repeat. I’ve written in the middle of loud gigs, art gallery openings on busses in India and on top of waterfalls but the process is pretty much always the same (+ or – googling things depending on internet access).
Now the #MyWritingProcess Blog tour calls for you to ask other bloggers to take over. I’m nominating:
Small publisher, writer, illustrator, oh… and my mum!
Awesome artist and writer too!
Today worked out in the warehouse at the back of my office, where I met James. We were fixing tags on garments that had been printed wrong by putting stickers on over them. There were hundreds of thousands of tags to fix. He told me stickers annoyed him, which inspired this story.
Every Homebot has a kind system and a good temperament chip, or so says the box. Jim knows better though, he works in the warehouse fixing all the bot’s emotional systems that malfunction before they hit the shops. The bots often threw tantrums before he fixed them, but soon they were kind and placid as a Homebot should be. Jim was happy in the warehouse away from most people. People scared him, people judged him. As long as he fixed the bots consistently, he’d be left alone to his own devices in the warehouse. But one day a bot threw a spanner in his works. The bot acted just like him.
“That’s okay, I knew I wasn’t good enough,” it said when he told it he needed to make system adjustments.
They talked for much too long, and at the end, Jim still hadn’t changed his systems. Instead he put it back in the box.
“You are good enough, just as you are, Homebot #4000,” he said.
I met a lovely lady called Laura today at lunch, she told me she really doesn’t like when food is filled out with huge chunks of onion. I wondered why a chef would do this?
At 5 Morris broke his arm, but didn’t cry, he didn’t want the bullies to know they’d hurt him. The school nurse called him a “brave warrior”.
At 12 his father died, he still didn’t cry. This time the nurse tried to book him therapy sessions.
At 18 Morris’ girlfriend dumped him for being “clinical”.
At 20 he got a job as a kitchen hand, his first task was to cut the onions. For the first time, a tear traversed the smooth terrain of his cheeks. It felt hot and tasted salty, Morris quite enjoyed the feeling.
At 29 Morris is now a professional chef. His dishes all have onion in them, and he never lets the kitchen hand prep the onions.
When the zombie apocalypse finally came Georgia didn’t mind that the “living impaired” left rotten flesh on the pavement, or that they were illiterate or that they ruined the economy because they weren’t interested in buying food. But she couldn’t stand their slow walking, it was utterly infuriating when trying to run for the bus.
Georgia May told me she hates slow walkers.
It’s a very short story today. I can usually imagine what it’s like to be a giant or a dragon or an ant, but today I tried to write a story on extreme poverty and could barely get a word down. I know nothing of this struggle.
My friend Georgia Wellington knows a little more than me. She contacted me for “Conflict in May” telling me thing she dislikes the most is that one in five people in our world live in extreme poverty – without adequate access to food, water, sanitation, healthcare, shelter, education or employment. So she is living Below the Line this may on just $2 a day, to help the 40% of East Timorese people who live in extreme poverty right now.
While researching East Timor I found they have an endangered species of Shrew whose habitat is disappearing, it made me imagine a moment between girl and shrew…
Probing eyes meet, wary. They instantly recognize glazed haze of hunger. Their guards fall with heavy thuds, too weary to keep them up. The shrew curls up at the girls toes, and the two rest side by side.
If you’d like to help out Georgia please donate via her Below the Line page.
She threw herself at the slimy strings. But it was no good, she was caught in its web. The beast oozed lethargy and hacked up gobs of misery as it lumbered toward her. Her mind was hazy, she could barely remember why she needed to struggle. She had a name, it was on the tip of her tongue, and she had girl, definitely something blonde anyway.
The beast was wrapping her up in a cocoon. Perhaps a nap would jog her memory, the web was warm. Before her heavy lids closed a flash of blonde streaked across her periphery. The beat turned, it was shrieking. The blonde streak was jabbing it.
And then she remembered, she’d taught her daughter to eating milo straight, tell stories and tickle. The beast wasn’t shrieking it was laughing, he was being tickled. She struggled hard against her slimey bonds and finally broke free. The blonde streak had it’s sides, so she took behind the knees. That was the final straw, the beast fell down in convulsions. Now the two sit crunching on milo and listening to stories.
My mum has the flu on mothers day which sucks! So this is my virtual card for her.
Edmund was kind enough to tell me about his crappy week (complete with the woes of group assignments and the struggles of money) so this one goes out to you.
Things always ran away from Andy. It had started with Lin in year 4, nowadays it was his time, his grades, even his money seemed to hide from him. He was trapped in a constant game of chase. It felt like herding hippies, if he secured one, the others would float away. Eventually though, like hippies, they turned up in the strangest places. He found his grades on the couch with his laptop, his money had gotten lost overseas but finally found it’s way back, and even Lin turned up at a festival, it turned out she had most of his time.
Georgia sent me a list of things she doesn’t like. One of them was “Facebook saying someone has ‘seen’ my message but they haven’t replied.” Well I’ve seen this message and I’m not going to keep you hanging on any longer. I think there are a few things on facebook that would be excruciating in real life.
I spot a familiar face in amongst the bored shoppers.
“Hey Jess, nice to see you last night.”
“You too it was a big night,” she smiles.
I give her the thumbs up, I’m not sure why.
“Actually I’m surprised you remember I was there,” she says. “I can’t believe you told Jason!”
“Told Jason what?”
She looks at me then turns away to the shelves.
“Told him what?” I ask again.
She continues looking at the shelves. Why isn’t she replying? She’s definitely seen me. I rack my brain. What could I have told Jason? Then Jess opens her mouth as if to speak. She mouths some indistinguishable words as if thinking of what to say, and shuts her mouth again.
Then she announces loudly to the other shoppers, “At Target: feeling embarrassed lol,” before ignoring me once more.
A thought hits me and my insides begin to constrict uncomfortably. I didn’t. I wouldn’t have told him that the giant floater in his toilet at his last party was me. Jess continues to look at the shelves so I decide to text Jason. How can I make this better? I can’t. I decide to make a joke. I’m sorry about last night. Rookie mistake: never own up to a poo. Haha.
Suddenly Jess kicks into gear again.
“You told him you’d go on a date with him! He’s really into you,” Jess winks.
Lucy answered my ‘what gets your goat?’ post with two simple words: ‘Jet lag’.
I didn’t bring anything back from overseas except the time zone. What was the point? I had no one to give presents to anyway. My world is lagging like Windows 95. The people rushing for the train are a blur. My vision freezes on a pretty girl and I can’t seem to look away.
Close close close! Vision has stopped responding. End now?
It’s too late, she’s seen me. I watch her lips move but the sound is out of sync.
Her puzzled expression tells me she’s asked a question, but my brain is still buffering. Finally it loads in frustratingly small installments.
been? I’ve missed…
seeing you and your…
weird geek t shirts on the train.”
Windows needs to update. Reboot?
My brain shuts down and I’m left stammering.
“L-l-loads of places. Me and my geek shirt could tell you about it over coffee if you’d like?”
Windows has updated successfully.
I got this from Kate:
“So, I missed the lunar eclipse but i was so happy because there was a solar eclipse the following week – but then I got so excited that I looked directly at it and my eyes burned so bright that it blocked all the world out and then the sun disappeared behind the mountain before I had a chance to regain my full sightedness. I lost. I lost both times.”
Hopefully this story makes your feel a little better about it all Kate…
Painting fueled the fire that lit up her eyes. The sun made them burn the brightest. She must have painted it thousands of times, but she never quite captured the movement or the energy. It had started in her house but eventually sunrays spilled out into the street and burned their way through the streets.
She’d start painting during the day and continue through the night, the image of the sun seared into her retinas even in the dark. One night she closed her eyes and painted by feel, looking at the negative of the sun projected onto the insides of her eyelids. Finished, she opened her eyes, but nothing changed. All was dark. She never saw again.
The painting now hangs in the city centre and is known as her best work. People ‘oh’ and ‘ahh’ wondering if the paint is moving or if the canvas really is glowing. Some sit in front of it for days and have to be shooed away by security, but she will never set eyes on her masterpiece.Some say once she captured her subject there was nothing left to fuel the fire in her eyes, others say don’t look into the sun.
I got this facebook comment from Michael yesterday: “Lost my wallet the other day… that was pretty annoying. Then it turned up in my room after I cancelled my bank card.” It made me think of a sequel to yesterday.
I hadn’t been making my targets for a long time. In the end I was sleeping through my morning shifts and living off the company honey. I always wanted to be a luck fairy, orchestrating good coincidences for people, but there isn’t much social mobility in the Gremlin world. Fairies look down on us and my parents were always telling me about their fight for Gremlin rights. In secret I applied for as many local luck fairy positions as I could. Only one would take me. I turned up for my trial shift, all I had to do was find a man’s lost wallet and return it to him without being seen. I was so nervous about being seen, that I dropped the wallet several times on the way to his house. I placed it on his bed and waited anxiously. I couldn’t believe I’d done it, perhaps this was the day everything would change. I should have known then, once a gremlin, always a gremlin. While I had been nervously fumbling with his wallet, he had cancelled his bank card.
I look at my watch, 6:00am, I’m running late. I lug my bucket through the crack in the wall and quickly locate the kitchen. The sound of you stumbling around trying to pull on your jeans tells me I just have time. In front of the fridge I pour a subtle spot of water and honey (for extra stick). Then I grab a handful of sand and dirt and scatter it along the path you’d take to the toaster. I hear the door to your room open and rush back to the crack. I didn’t even get time to hide one of your new matching socks, or pull out the stretch the elastic around the top. I suppose I’ll just have to make up for it at the next house, a sock gremlin’s work is never done.
Yesterday arvo I was stopped outside the chemist by some charity people. I find charity mugging to be a very elaborate and polite conflict where you have to fight to actually get out of them what they want from you. In the end I didn’t sign up but they did give me an idea.
“Hi you look like friendly how’s your day been?”
“Sorry what’s your name?”
“Wow that’s a beautiful name. Tell me Minu are you single at the moment?”
“Alright! Nice one, that’s perfect. Today we’re signing couples up for free.”
“We’re all about love, it’s the most important thing in life wouldn’t you say Minu?”
“So Minu, you fall into our great couples package, it’s just an easy payment of 4 dates per month. That’s only one a week or you can allocate to be part of our flirt sessions which works out to just one compliment per day. Do you think that’s something you and your partner would be interested in?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Love Bird is a charity dedicated to capturing love and giving it to those who need it most. We’re at the cutting edge of love science and technology and we’re currently working on capturing it in chemical form, which is pretty amazing wouldn’t you agree Minu?”
“Um amazing and somewhat disturbing.”
“I know science and love is something people don’t usually put together but we are dedicated to providing for the lonely, and what’s better than helping those in need by giving us a bit of your excess love?”
“Hang on, giving? We can’t give you excess love?”
“Most happy couples find they have love to spare. Break ups do occur but we nearly always get letters from those couples thanking us for helping them realise their relationship wasn’t strong enough. So we just need your name and number, the first month is reduced to only 1 date which will ease you guys in.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to sign up. I gotta go.”
“No worries thanks for the chat Minu, take a flier in case you change your mind. Can I have a one off cuddle donation before you go?”
I do agree Ben, in fact, there is one childish act that runs in my family which I really dislike. So I thought up this story.
Once there were two brothers. They took it in turns to look after their little sister Cari. The first brother would set up nest eggs in Cari’s name and park her in front his oversized TV. The second taught her to skip everywhere, just like he did, and bought chocolate milks that would sticky their fingers. One day when the second brother dropped Cari off covered in paint with tangled frizzy hair, the first brother lost it.
“You’re late again. Look at her!”
“I know, she looks so cute. We had a coloured water bomb fight.”
“The state of her hair.”
“I was the last one to the car last night, so she was allowed to pick our outfits today. She calls it witchy-chic.”
“She’ll never grow up with you around. You’re so childish! I’m taking her for two weeks this time.”
The brothers argued in unison, “She likes it better at my place!”
The second brother grinned at Cari, “Jinx! Can’t say it back!”
The first brother grabbed Cari’s hand and walked silently inside, as the second called out.
“C’mon we’re brothers I don’t want to fight. It’s Cari’s life, shouldn’t she have a say?”
But the door closed and remained that way every time he came back to talk. The second brother left phone messages, letters, flowers, and even an expensive digital watch that he thought his brother would like. But there was no reply.
Inside the house, the first brother had made a pile of these letters and was trying to stuff them into the bin. Cari watched.
“You’re being childish,” she said.
“He’s the one… he was hogging yo-”
He stopped on hearing himself, “what should I do Cari?”
And so she devised a plan which involved screaming into pillows, painting their emotions, and drinking chocolate milk. When they had finished they went to the second brother’s house, covered in paint with sticky chocolate fingers.
“Cari says we should shake hands and say sorry.”
The second brother smiled and extended his hand.
“Ew sticky fingers! Seriously though, who’s hiding the chocolate milk?”
Mangled words hissed in my ear
I fear we’re too entwined
The foundation for our relation is weak
Meek and flimsy like you
Too much of our bond is a song
It’s wrong and the melody crackles
You tackle the problem by breaking up
I’m waking up finally finding the root
Using brute force I tug the cord
Awed by the sudden music that floods my hearing
You’re endearing once more
I adore you, we are smitten again
The pain of tangled headphones forgotten
The first of ‘Conflict’ May and I’ve started us off on a silly one. Tangled earphones is something that makes me irrationally angry.