I was lost, a bit frightened and filled with regretfor not making a note of the address. A hazy moon began to make her appearance in the evening sky, leaving the tiny Palermo street awash in a warm orange glow. Squinting in the darkness, I saw what appeared to be a tunnel at the end of the street; there was no way I was going to walk into the black unknown. Slowly I inched closer and discovered the tunnel was actually a stairway. Just as I quickened my pace, an arm shot out of a hidden doorway and pulled me inside, pinning me against a wall. A deep voice I knew intimately whispered in honeyed Sicilian tones “Picchì ci haiu misu tantu tempu, amuri miu? Ti vogghiu beni!”º Passionate kisses drifted down my neck. Breathless, I murmured “I’m here now, my love. Show me.”
Kiss me now, my love, In the warm glow of the moon You possess my heart
Bill stood at his open closet mumbling and cursing under his breath as he pulled out one pair of pants after the other. He was in a mood that has no definition or perhaps many definitions, none of them good. He was searching for something to wear for the funeral of his twin brother, Jim, who died suddenly on April 2. Had it been anyone else’s funeral, Bill would have just pulled out a suitable pair of pants and a dress shirt, but this was his brother and he said he needed his black suit. He couldn’t find it in the closet and he was getting angry but, of course, the errant suit was not the cause for his consternation. I walked to the closet and spotted the suit immediately. Handing it to Bill, I hugged him and kissed his cheek. As I ironed his shirt I could hear him crying softly. “Why’d you have to go and die, Jim?”
They lived in lush green perfection of ripe fruit and pristine water. When their misadventures and disobedience angered the Maker, they and their sons were cast out.
One son, a farmer, made an offering of paltry wheat; the Maker was displeased.
The other, a shepherd, offered his firstborn lamb, which pleased the Maker.
In a panic, the jealous farmer killed his brother.
Enraged and saddened, the Maker banished the murderer, condemning him to a life of endless wandering.
Anfractuous paths covered the land. The farmer roamed for years, until blindly falling from a cliff to his death.
Denise @ GirlieOnTheEdge has once again challenged us to write a Six Sentence Story, incorporating the word “limit”. This is my response. 🎅🏼
“Now listen up, kids, because Daddy’s had just about enough of this nonsense; I’m at the end of my rope and very close to losing it right here in front of Cinnabon, you hear me?
Every year it’s the same thing with you kids; Timmy, Sally .… I need you guys to get a gripbecause people are starting to stare, mall security is checking me out and the big guy in the redsuit is becoming impatient.
Try to remember what we talked about last night when I read you a bedtime story, how you gotta behave because Santa is watching all the time and he knows when you’re being naughty (like now) or when you’re being nice; if you want Santa Claus to come to our house this year and bring you Christmas presents, you better shape up this minute and stop crying or else you’re gonna get a big fat lump of coal in your stocking!
Sally, I know you want Mommy right now but the last time I saw her she was ducking into Ye Olde Candle Shoppe and she hasn’t come out yet …. as if we really need more goddamn candles that smell like fruit cake and reindeer balls …. it ain’t normal, I’m telling you; look, we’re next in line to see Santa so everybody settle down, stop crying and when we’re all done we’ll go down to the food court and get ice cream at Baskin Robbins, ok?
Hold on a second, kids, cos one of the elves is putting up a sign and I wanna see what it says; whoa, whoa, whoa …. wait up there, pal …. what’s with the sign?
Ok, change of plans, kids …. Santa’s taking a lunch break and won’t be back till 3:00 so we’re gonna go hunt down Mommy in the friggin’ candle store and then we’re gonna go home where Daddy can watch Sunday football and have a couple of cold ones and Mommy can bring you back to the mall tomorrow while I’m at the office; Timmy, Sally …. for fuck’s sake …. that’s enough now cos Daddy’s good and pissed and has reached his limit …. so stop with the damn crying or I’ll really give you something to cry about!”
This is Bob Rivers & Twisted Christmas with “I Am Santa Claus”
It’s Birthday Thursday today at The Rhythm Section. Stop by and see who’s celebrating a birthday! No fuss, no muss; just wall-to-wall-music! https://rhythmsection.blog/
The Elephant's Trunk 