My Cardboard Balcony

There were four young sisters at the local brewery. And they bought beer for you, and they bought beer for me. They sang songs about home and nostalgic jubilees. Yes, the four sisters sang at the local brewery. Well, the youngest, she bought the second and third round. And she drank 'til her eyes turned the other way 'round. I was worried she'd tumble and fall to the ground. But her sisters kept laughing while she didn't make a sound.

by Belinda Roddie The cupcakes revolted. The doughnuts did, too. They formed a sweet army brigade. They allied with cookies and other pastries and marched in an angry parade. I pulled out a fork and charged at the mass. The sugary frosting flew everywhere. Crumbs littered the floor as we settled the score, and you could smell death in the air. All the rolls and croissants begged for peace and detente, but not even they could be spared. The war of deliciousness was ended that day, while the angry sun up above glared. I scooped their remains into a trash bin. Not a bit of their flesh could be saved. All the chocolate, vanilla, and sprinkled glory was gone - what a terrible waste. This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.

How many times must we pass through the same revolving door to the same hotel lobby, waving to the same doorman as he tips his gold braided cap to us? How many times must we shuffle awkwardly into an elevator that never leads us to the stars? How many rooms must we rotate through before finding one with a queen-sized bed that's still suitable for serfs like us? It's all too warm, too formal, too ornate; I'd rather just go home.

So. Arden and I will begin the process of moving to our new condo starting next week. I spent a week and a half taking care of my parents' pets while they were on vacation in New Hampshire. I get to see my parents and brother for a belated birthday celebration. Oh, yeah, I turned 28 two days ago. Spoiler alert: I'm still in my late twenties. Yaaaaaay. As usual, I am in the flux of change. So honestly, there's not much to add since last week. Except I wrote more, of course. I've got some song ideas and two script/novel concepts as well, so we'll see if I have time to plot them out. After all, I've got books to reread, yearbook stuff to study, and curricula to develop. And that's the way the cookie crumbles! Or something. I dunno. I'm tired and just saw Wonder Woman in theaters, so I'm sort of still in the stunned "That was awesome!  An actually good DC movie!"  stage. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Scottish Wanderlust by Belinda Roddie Some day, I'll reach the Highlands, and I'll never return.

The messenger was perched atop a small tree that grew sheepishly from scattered patches of snow, its branches curving perfectly to form a natural love seat for anyone wishing to roost. She was wearing and a green coat and black gloves, and I could see a glint of silver as she allowed two very expensive-looking dice to dance around in her palm.

The Pool Party by Belinda Roddie The pool party was ruined when my dad started screaming at my girlfriend and me when we held hands, and it got pretty bad when she planted a soft kiss on my cheek. He dragged her from the water by the arm, her hair tinged a light green from the chlorine, and though he wasn't strong enough to harm her, I was ready to knock out his teeth. My haymaker caught my dad near the ear, and he knocked down the grill during his fall. None of the hot dogs or burgers were spared, and people grabbed their beers and scaled the wall to get away from such a violent spree. I then stopped talking to my family.