How My Nemesis Starts His Day

The loud snoring blankets the room like a heavy quilt.  Annie’s weight gain has caused her to snore even more than usual, waking Sam up earlier than needed.  He sits up and looks at the clock, it’s 4 am.  “What the hell,” he utters out loud as he runs his hand through his bleach blonde hair.  He farts, fanning the air to dissipate the smell, he snickers.  Wish I could have saved that for the project manager meeting.

He drags his 5 foot 9 chunky body out of bed and strides to the shower, scratching his hairy, pimpled ass.  He walks by the large dresser along the wall looks in the mirror, pauses, and flexes.  He kisses his left bicep and winks.  He ignores the robust stomach protruding below his ribs.

Turning on the water, he begins to whistle, thinking of the things that need to be completed at work.  He steps into the shower, chuckling about the chaos he caused the day prior.  He picks up the bar of Irish Spring from the soap dish, caked with left over soap pieces, he starts laughing out loud.  “Sending out those hoax emails to the office yesterday was friggin awesome.  Sending the emails every minute for 3 hours was genius.  I can’t believe the idiots can’t find how I altered the code.  Taking down the system was, well that was an added treat.”

Finishing his four minute shower, after all this is drought season, he makes a mental list of tasks to complete for the day as he dries off.  Walking toward the dresser, Sam catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging cockeyed over the sink and notices a zit has ripened on his forehead.  He stops, pops it, and wipes the white puss on the towel around his waist.  He turns on the light in the bedroom opens the dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of graying fruit of the looms, a fluorescent green t-shirt and a pair of faded khaki cargo shorts.  He walks out to the hall to get dressed as he doesn’t want to wake Annie.   The last thing he wants to do is talk to her before going to work.  The door squeaks as he closes it.  Another thing for the “Landlord to do list.”

He walks down the dimly lit hall to the kitchen and heads toward the refrigerator.  He yanks the door open and pushes the plastic 99 cent store containers around looking for something that could resemble breakfast.

Nothing.  Not even a moldy pancake.

He decides to stop at Rachel’s and grab a bean and cheese burrito on his way to the office.

As he stands up, he notices dirty hand prints on the left inside of the refrigerator.

He shakes his head “Jesus Christ.”

He then looks around the kitchen…mud covered shoes , socks, bats, balls, clothes, all of it thrown around as if a tornado blew everything from the bedrooms to the kitchen.

“Annie needs to clean this place or get a job!”

He slams the refrigerator door shut and shakes his head in disgust.

He walks toward the front door, kicking toys, shoes, and clothes out of his way.

He slips on his Rainbow flip flops.

A gust of hot hair greats him like an old friend when he opens the door.  The wind is reminding him the Santa Ana winds are blowing in.


What Happens in Colorado Stays in Colorado

Chris began to question the wisdom of the trip as she merged onto the 70 east.  What’s that saying, when in Colorado do what the Coloradans do, and that’s what she was going to do…well maybe, that was the goal.

The music blared as she had a hard time hearing the music with the top down.  She had always wanted to drive a lipstick red convertible mustang.  Now was as good as time as any.  When the rental agent told her it would be $200.00 for the day, she almost passed.  But hell, you only live once, right?  Her stomach knotted as waves of nausea flowed over her as she thought about how she was going to explain this to hubby.  It was a business trip.  Ugh, then the explanation to the boss…screw it, she would figure it out later.

She reflected on the two hours she spent pacing the floor in her hotel room weighing her options.  Should she?  If she did, did it make her a bad person?  If she didn’t, would she regret it?  After all, she wasn’t getting any younger.  What if she ended up in a ditch somewhere or worse?  Fine obituary that would be.  Old lady found in a ditch looking for a good time.  Hopefully some of her friends would find humor in it.  The kids would be mortified, or would they.

Shaking off the memory of her indecisiveness, she turned up the radio even louder to drown out the voices in her head telling her this was a bad idea.

“In two miles, take exit 277,” bellows google maps.

“In 100 feet merge right and take exit 277.”

“Stay in the left two lanes and turn left”

“Follow Stapleton South Drive to Grape Street.”

“Your destination is on the right.”

Chris pulled into the parking lot and circled the lot five times and finally lands a spot.  She looks around.  The parking lot is full of cars, rusty beat up cars.  “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”  This just isn’t something a VP does while traveling.  Or a mother. “Oh hell, she mumbled, I am doing this.”

As she crawled out of the car, she sheepishly shut the door to avoid drawing attention to herself as two kids walk by.  The girl has piercings in her nose and tattoos all over and is wearing a Walmart camisole, cut off jean shorts that show her ass cheeks.  Her outfit is made complete with thigh high boots that have a 4 inch heel.  The boy has piercings on his eyebrows, cheek, and ears.  No tats…well, that can be seen.  His Guns and Roses T shirt has bleach marks and his frayed jeans are hanging below his crack showing his tighty-whities.  Chris pauses as she always thought boys wore boxers when their pants didn’t cover their ass.  The two are holding hands and laughing as they half skip and half run to the door.

As she approaches the glass door with weather tarnished bars, she takes a deep breath and yanks the rusty bullet proof door open.  As she walks in, she is greeted by a sign, The Green Solution.  “This place reeks of marijuana,” she whispers, then she chuckles, “this is a marijuana dispensary, I guess it should smell.”

Chris stops in the middle of the store, she looks from left to right, there are rows and rows of various types of, weed in their special little bins.  Stop chuckling, you know you wanted me to say it.  A 20 something kid approaches her.

“HI ma’am, what can get for you?”  Oh lord, he called me ma’am…I must look my age right now.

“Um, do, um, do you have recommendations.

The kid pushes his black and orange over gelled hair back and laughs. “It depends on how much you have to spend and how much fun you want to have.”

Just then, a few other 20 somethings move closer to Chris, smiling as if they are her long lost friends. Chris looks down at the counter, yep, this is probably one of those trips she shouldn’t have made.

Tiny Fingers

via Daily Prompt: Tiny

Have you ever noticed how Tiny the fingers are of an infant?  I mean, REALLY noticed?

They aren’t long or wide.  They have creases.  They wiggle.  They bend.  They have nails.

They fit in their mouth, they fit in your mouth, and sometimes they fit up your nose.

Have you noticed how strong their tiny fingers can be?

When they grab your finger, somehow, they manage to reach through your body and grab your heart.  The tighter their tiny fingers squeeze your finger, the tighter the hold on your heart.

When this happens for the first time, you have to stop and take a deep breath because you’re not quite sure what’s happening.

You panic.  Is it indigestion?  Is it a heart attack?

Sweat forms on your brow.  You look around, does anyone else see your panic?  They don’t.  They are smiling.  Why are they smiling?

You look down at the bundle in your arms.  Everything is okay.  The sweat on your brow turns into tears on your cheek.  The tiny fingers grasping your pointer have grabbed your heart.

Now you know what it is to unconditionally love a child.  And all it took was a squeeze from a tiny finger.