My Cardboard Balcony

No update on the OneWord website today. Welp.

by Belinda Roddie It was my third day at the werepuppy shelter, and Halloween was the most popular adoption event. I started the morning in a typical fashion: Washing my hands, putting on my bite-proof gloves and long-sleeved tunic, tucking my hair into the standard black net that made us look more like we were working at Drac's Diner than tending to little canines. The rest of my staff had finished off the recent pot of coffee by the time I stepped out of the bathroom, but Valencia, bless her zombified soul, was brewing another. She groaned a greeting to me as I fetched a styrofoam cup. "Big day today," I said with a smile on my face. Valencia nodded. A loose piece of skin dangled from her graying jawline. "Exciting," she mumbled. She poured me java that was as black as a moonless night, and I enjoyed the bitterness. There was a line outside the shelter already, and it was only eight minutes before we opened the doors. I was told to expect this. W...

The puppies were cute. The kittens were cute. The dresses that little girls wore were all cute. Everything to Cecily Lee was so cute! Even the roses and daisies were cute. She flung around that word like a flag of pride, while her English teacher father died a little on the inside. She asked for new socks and umbrellas and boots in just the right colors - so they could be cute! And her father obliged, all compliant and mute.

Oh, man, well, I'd say this was a decent week! I made it through another five days of work, got to see friends, got some writing done, spent some time with my wonderful wife, and hey, I get to go to my in-laws' annual Halloween party!  And  I don't think I have to worry about the presidential election anymore! Yay! (Checks latest election news) (Inhale) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Missus Dragon's Ailment by Belinda Roddie "I don't feel good," she wheezed, coughing up a fireball.

"Excuse me," I heard a small voice squeak from behind me. "Excuse me!" When I looked down, I saw a tiny old lady, no taller than four feet, her frizzy white hair starkly contrasting with her brown skin. She was gesturing wildly at a large box at her feet - a new TV? A desktop computer? - and shivering in the rain. "Could you lift this into my car for me?" she asked. "My arthritis is acting up something awful."

I Bought A Beer by Belinda Roddie I bought a beer for Jessica that night and watched quietly as she chugged it down, the froth on her lip like a mustache. Right as she finished, she burped and dug around in her purse for a breath mint. Then she said, "I feel antsy. Join me for the next dance." I took her hand. Her face was flush and red, but as she moved, the patrons were entranced by the strange choreography we made together. Then she bought a shot for me, and I fired it back like a booze grenade. When we kissed, I could taste the ecstasy like licorice on her tongue. My mouth ached against hers, dwelling on my new mistake.