Part-time prevaricator
“Margaret?”
“Yes, luv?”
“Next time you buy tissues, would you be so kind as to buy the kind with the lotion in ’em?”
“And why’s that then?”
“See, luv, when I get a cold, usin’ them regular tissues is kind of like usin’ sandpaper to blow my nose.”
“Oh Hubert, you exaggerate so.”
“I ask you, wife of mine, do I look like I’m exaggeratin’?”
“Oh my.”
IMG_0463.JPG discovered in Elliott les yeux grands fermés’s Flickr photostream.
______
She said, “Just a little more helium, if you please,” and then she slipped away into the sky. Two days later she touched down in Old Dan’s meadow, ankle-deep in wildflowers and foxtail. Something had turned her eyes from drab brown to silver, the colour of sun-kissed clouds, and for her nothing was ever the same again.
She was free now, and she damn well knew it.
______
“You can’t be serious.”
“Look, sir, they came in with the lowest bid on the campus security contract. They’ve been out of work ever since that whole Death Star II debacle, so we can low-ball them even more in the next round of contract talks next year. And you can’t fault their performance. Their record speaks for itself.”
“Yeah, I suppose, but even so…”
“They kept the Rebellion in check for, what, ten years? Twenty?”
“But clones. I mean, it’d be different if they were maybe robots in that armor, but…”
“Robots have those Three Laws that make them really quite unsuitable for contract security work. No, clones are the way to go. Wave of the future.”
“ ‘Wave of the future’? What happened to ‘a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away’?”
“Sir, and I say this with all due respect, shut up and sign the contract already.”
Time to sign up for those anger management courses.
She bristled at the name. “Robin? Don’t even— Don’t even talk to me about that little suckup. Don’t even mention his name. Seriously.” Rolling her eyes: “He spent like two days on the phones, then got promoted. Now I hear he does fieldwork. What is he, sixteen? Man, let me tell you— Sorry, hang on, I gotta take this.”
Yip yip yip yip yip yip
Discovered in Navid j’s Flickr photostream.
…uh huh, uh huh.
Man, the thing you can find, on Flickr.
IMG_3318
Discovered in JennyHennyPenny’s Flickr photostream.
Drunk I got. Remember nothing after making out with Charlene on the dance floor do I. Ashamed I should be, think I.
But not as bad as they say is waking up in a ditch. Worse, it is.
IMG_5900
Discovered in Ian Hampton’s Flickr photostream.
This is one more to file under “I” for “It seemed like a good idea at the time”.
“Man, where are we, anyways?”
“Not sure. I think we should’ve taken–”
“If you say ‘a right turn at Albuquerque’ one more time, I swear by all that’s holy, I will punch you in the nose.”
“…Fine. Okay. So it’s not funny after a hundred thousand times. Lighten up, man.”
“Screw this. Give me the map. Your days as my navigator are over.”
“Still think we shoulda taken a right turn–”
“Don’t make me hit you, man. I will. I swear I will.”
“Dude… You’re playing ‘In The Flesh’… from ‘The Wall’… in front of… a wall…”
“Richie, please, man, you’re embarrassing me. You need to find a room and sleep it off. And maybe next time only have one of your brownies before the show.”
“…cosmic, man…”
“Richie, I don’t even know any Pink Floyd songs. I’ve been playing Mozart all damn night.”
“…cosmic.”
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