Flash Fiction on Sunday Afternoon

It was a smokey room with no windows and it smelt of stale beer and cheap cigarettes. The one bonus was that it was 30 degrees cooler than the night shrouded parking lot she had just left and probably a thousand degrees cooler than her flaming Chevy a hundred yards down the road.

The ancient juke box in the back was playing an equally ancient song that she recognized. It had been on the hit parade when she was 10 and going through her country music phase. The voice was as smokey as the room... what was that guy's name? She remembered she had loved his music but it was long forgotten now.

"What can I get ya, Babe?"

Now there was a line to get a girl's attention. From the cave-like booth where he crouched, he squinted glazed eyes at her through a cloud of smoke that boiled from his mouth, probably from the stygian depths of his soul. Betweet slack, wet lips she saw a flash of sparkling white teeth just before he stoked the fire again. Oh yeah, he was hot, all right, just smokin'.

"A phone book and phone would be great." She directed her attention toward where she hoped the bartender was in residence. Den was an appropriate term if this guy was any example. She had a sinking feeling that the night might not get better.

"Hey, Babe, I'll give you my number, you ain't gotta look it up."

She looked back and found that her imagination was taking over and Jaba the Hutt was leering at her. Great, just what she needed. She could only hope he was as hampered walking as the original Hutt had been because she was no Princess Leia and there was not going to be a Luke Skywalker or Han Solo appear to rescue her.

She moved toward the end of the bar, supressing a grin. She wouldn't mind Han Solo rushing in and grabbing her up. Of course it was Skywalker who always did the dashing moves, levitating while brandishing a sword at the bad guy with a girl on his other arm. No, Solo was just handing out the grins, hugs, and kisses in dark corners of the Falcon. She sighed. There weren't going to be any heros in this tale. She just had a bad feeling about it.

"Excuse me," she said as the bartender moved her way, "do you have a phone book. My car just blew up and I need a tow."

His eyes widened and his mouth formed an O before he replied, "Honey, you won't get a tow tonight, not around here. You are 75 miles from a real town and the only garage we have locally is run by that slug you passed on the way in. And he is in no shape to drive anyone anywhere unless it is to hell."

I turned back to stare at the Hutt. He grinned a whisky grin and wiggled his fingers at me. Oh God, the night was not going well at all. What little space she had acquired between her and trouble just went up in smoke.

Don't Make Me Blush!

Went to the doctor today for a follow-up. She gave me samples of a med called Niaspan. It is a time released formula of Niacin, supposedly better tolerated since it is time released. I have the most terrible side effect.

Regular niacin can cause flushing of the skin, itching and burning. I took it years ago and had a mild reaction to it. It is not pleasant. I had the reaction on the Niaspan tonight. Within 30 minutes of taking it I looked like I had been dropped in oil and felt that someone had covered me with a million fire ants. Itching, burning and severe redness were full blown in less than 2 minutes after onset of the symptoms.

I called the pharmacy to see if there is anything I could do. There wasn't and I needed to watch for an additional thing. If I had trouble breathing I was to go immediately to the ER. And since this was time release... I might have repeating occurances all night long. Nice, huh? He recommended a cool shower to see if it helped with burning. It did while I was in the shower and an aspirin. But I can't stay in the shower all night! He didn't know why the aspirin helped but he said he had found it did. I was game by then so tried it.

I called the doctor and she said pretty much what the pharmacist said but also said I could take an benedryl for the itching. So, I have gone from one additional pill to three!

Well, after about an hour it began to taper off. I got less red, less itching, and burning. Lasted about 30 minutes and then started again. This time it was not so severe. At the moment it is tapering off again. I guess we will see what happens. I have to go to bed because I am tired but I don't know if sleep will be possible.

I have discovered a new meaning to the phrase, "Don't make me blush!"

Passing on Excitement

Today Dave and Becca are moving into their apartment. I don't think either of them is thrilled because they don't have money or jobs and it is not the nicest thing to have to live in the projects. Unfortunately, life bites sometimes and the things we want are just not within our grasp. It is a hard lesson he is learning.

Things around here are, as a result, pretty messy. I don't know how I will ever get it all straightened out, AGAIN. Everytime I think it will be fine, someone has to move in and distupt everything. I know they don't do it on purpose but I just wish they had someplace else to go once in awhile.

I won't gripe too much. They are my kids and I am very glad to have them all here. I just don't like all the stress of trying to clean house after so many people and find a place to store all the junk.

I am out of space, out of time, and out of sorts. I would love to have a nice quiet house that smells like I just cleaned top to bottom. I have given up. I need that cleaning team with those two British women. I bet they could straighten everything up in a tick.

I am out of here now. I thought I would be able to dash off something exciting but suddenly realized that exciting around here usually means an emergency room trip, court proceedings, or things involving long black cars. I think I'll pass.

Dancing on Wet Pavement

She danced across the wet pavement, arms stretched to the heavens, head thrown back to receive the blessing of the rain. Thunder rumbled and clouds roiled but there was no lightening, only the sound of heavenly furniture being moved through the halls by angels. She laughed at her own imagination.

Her heels make an interesting sound on the sidewalk as she continued her journey to her car, the rhythm becoming a tap dance. The store windows streamed with rain, everything, all the things people craved, were now out of focus, unimportant and obsolete. She needed nothing but to be alive, to breath in the wet cool of the air, and hear the staccato tap of her heals. She performed a quick two step and twirled, finishing by slipping her key into the door lock with a florish. A man getting out of his car on the opposite lane did a double take and smiled at her. She smiled back. It was a glorious day to be alive and dancing on wet pavement.

Rain Like Silk Sheets and Migraine Thieves

The rain is falling in soft folds, covering the city streets in cool, grey, silken sheets. Drifting around me are the soft chords of classical guitar and the room takes on a very melancoly feel that I keep trying to sort out. I find myself wanting to go somewhere and sink into a soft cushioned chair and watch the world through blurred windows.

The day is slipping away and I am here, in a brick and steel box, envious of the rain.

I had a migraine last night. Today I am better but the feeling I am always left with is that I missed or lost something. The migraine thief slipped in and took away another day. Of course, it isn't true but that is the way it feels. I don't know where that comes from, just as I don't know what triggers the pain. That crawly feel in my head, that precursor to the real pain, keeps one on edge and so perhaps that is the source.