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Weekly Contest #273
Larry brought his dog to the coffee shop again. I didn’t want to raise a fuss. But then again, what if I’d brought Tippy? Tippy doesn’t like other dogs. Bares her little teeth and lunges at them. We could have gotten us all thrown out of there. Larry’s dog, Effie, sat right on the table next to his coffee cup, and ate right off his pastry plate. I couldn’t look. Instead, I looked toward the manager, a young fella addicted to his phone. Never even glanced our way; meanwhile, Effie is filling up on bread and custard and god knows what else. ...
Weekly Contest #268
She said she was going for a walk. “Let me join you,” I said, and began putting on my shoes. “Well, I was hoping to get a little alone time,” Salamona said. I stopped putting on my shoes. “Well,” I said, hurt, “If you want to be alone….” “No, that’s fine. Would you grab Ruffing’s leash?” “Yep,” I said, and finished tying my laces. It was nice just to be with her. She walks with this grace I somehow had not noticed for years. Even when she’s reading and sending texts, she moves with such confidence and sensuality. How I miss having physi...
Weekly Contest #267
My brother is talking about the Phillies and how much he hates them. Of course, Bobby loves the Phillies, which is why he can muster such hate. “Get rid of all the overpaid assholes and start from scratch,” he’s saying, sipping his high gravity beer. At the other end of the table, Kip is shaking his head. He’s a Pirates fan. He doesn’t understand how Ron can hate a team that is five games ahead in their division, while the Pirates languish at the bottom of the NL Central division. Kelly, a massage therapist whose trade doesn’t allow for suf...
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