My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "I'm just saying, you could be a slutty gym sock." "How." "If you cut holes in all the right spots." "Fucking how." "Just wear all white, dude! And make yourself look all ratty and old and stained. But show off that midriff." "Dude." "And accentuate the crotch." " Dude!" "I'm just trying to help you out, man! You said you needed costume ideas." "And the idea you jump to is a slutty gym sock?" "Hey, man. Strawberry basil margaritas can kick you in the head like an abusive soccer player." "Wha - okay. Look. No socks. No sluttiness. Just throw out some generic concepts." "Ew. Boring." "John." "Boring! You can't be boring on Halloween." "Sure I can. Watch me." "No." "Get me a white sheet. I'ma be a simple ass ghost." " No, Aaron." ...

I wasn't going to lie: I felt absolutely excluded from my group of my friends in recent days. Maybe it was because of the weed, or the booze, or the fact that my car had broken down. Maybe I seemed useless to them. I had lost my value. I had been a valuable tool in the box, and now I was broken and battered. So much for any sense of friendship circle. I sat down in front of my computer and opened a can of soda. Alone.

Welp. I'm married. I went on my honeymoon. I'm now back at work and returning to my regular routine. ...Yerp. That's about it. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Here Comes The Axe by Belinda Roddie They chopped him up like firewood, leaving him to burn.

"You say you're a certified public accountant?" asked Melanie's date, as she picked at the plate of pasta with shrimp scampi in front of her. "Yeah," replied Melanie. "I actually like it. I know it sounds boring, but - " "It's not boring," her date interrupted. "Just because I don't get it, doesn't mean it's boring. I mean, Hell, I'm a mechanic."

I Licked The Honey by Belinda Roddie I licked the honey off my fingers, warm and sticky, amber bliss that fused the skin together into puckered roses. Torn papyrus bristled in the wooden bin, the breeze from the window crisp, chill, and strong. Still hungry, I then bit into the comb, my teeth sinking into the wax, the song of sweetness reminding me of my home away from home - music made in my mouth, indulging in the bees' sugary gift, the sublime flavor. I lay on the couch and waited for the buzzing then to lift me up and away from this cottage to endless hives humming under endless blue.

The swords that were made of stern iron now turned red and orange with rust as they sat on the table in the abandoned armory. In fact, it looked as though nobody had frequented these barracks in years. This intrigued Kevin, who ran his fingers across the flat part of one oxidized blade and marveled at the stain it left on his skin.