My Cardboard Balcony

The Twenty-Third Escapade by Belinda Roddie The twenty-third escapade is something that occurs annually - just begun. It starts with baked goods, luscious cakes, sweet pies, and other loaded calories, then moves onward to gifts and fancy wishes while your path in life grows deeper into grooves that you will travel circularly like a needle in a vinyl record. Shall an existing love continue its growth, and will family stay strong? And friends? And long-term goals etched deeply into the folds of gravy memory oozing gray whims? The adventure's the best part, and, still quite young, you'll know to make twenty-three just right.

"It seems that you received various simple fractures up and down your left arm. Which leaves me with one question." "Yes, doctor?" "What did you do, have a hammer precisely crush each spot from your elbow to your wrist?" I blinked. "No...it was just a game of piñata gone bad." "I see," the doctor muttered. "Happy Birthday, by the way." "Thanks," I grinned, waiting for him to wrap me up.

Firecracker by Belinda Roddie firecracker goes boom crack red white and blue gloom doom in night skies " have a slice of apple pie. It's UH-MUR-CAN!"

The persons settled in the parlor were far different than the guests I was accustomed to on a weekly basis. Many of them were far older, yet they harbored a youthful glazed look in their eyes as if setting a jewel in deep, thick oil. Their teeth were battered but flashed with a childish mirth. Their beards thick, their cheeks still red and ruddy like a schoolboy's temperamental face.

Gynecomastia by Belinda Roddie When you stumble on a chance word, name, or "scientific" term, you often fight giggles in the back of your tickling throat. Like Morton's toe. Who's Morton? What's wrong with his toe? Did he bang it too many times on his iron stove while trying to brew up a pot of Earl Gray? And Doll Tearsheet. Obviously, a prostitute name. That's something that's transcended even Shakespeare (My friend likes Violet Crayon). Skeuomorphia is quite an issue in today's society. Polyorchids are somewhat rarer. A brannock device is what you see while shopping, and a fruit machine doesn't give you fruit. Paresthesia happens when you sleep on your foot the wrong way, though at least it's not a bad case of obdormation. But petrichor is one of my favorite aromas, tingling on my philtrum. And the title of this little spiel? Figure it out in a faded dictionary or your flickering tablet and you may raise an eyebro...

"This is the pits." "Relax, Andrew," I murmured. "Just another hour and then we can head home." "I don't know why we have to do this. I mean, just because Daniel told us to doesn't mean - " "I know, but just...do this for a friend, okay?" I readjusted my binoculars as Andrew kept his crouched position behind the juniper. Sarah was leaving the restaurant soon. With who, we didn't know yet.

Sorcerer's S'mores by Belinda Roddie recipe requires a fluffy package of pearl marshmallows to set with gooey comfort in graham shelters, crumbling at the pinwheels of flame erupting from the hearth's dragon and a great gaggle of youths rolling stones, cracking jokes, and swinging wooden swords while a maiden turns knight in cardboard armor with melted chocolate around her marble mouth.