Slow Day at the Office

Slow Day at the Office

“Going back to what we were saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, tell me again why Skuzo is first on the door?” Amy asked, her feet propped up on the desk, her overpriced pumps crossed. She stared down Hank at his desk across the room.
“I told you, your money bought you into the business, but it was MY business. You wanted your name first, you should’ve started your own detective agency.”
He blew a cloud of cigarette smoke out the open window.”
Amy grabbed her chest in mock horror, her eyes wide, “It’s because I’m a woman! You, you, you-”
The phone on her desk rang.
“Little and Skuzo!” She answered, sticking out her tongue at Hank.
She listened intently, and then her face fell.
“No, thanks, not interested.”
She hung up the phone and sighed heavily.
“I’ve been here three hours, and this is worse than that time I temped at a pillow factory. I organized four years worth of files. And you know what it-”
The phone rang on Hank’s desk. He picked it up.
“Skuzo and Little.” He said.
He listened as the caller talked for a moment then he said,”Is your refrigerator running?” he paused, “Good, go fuck yourself.” He said, and he hung up the phone.
“Jesus.” Amy said. She had sat up in her chair. “That was a little harsh.”
“Yea, sorry.” Hank said, “It was some idiot.”
“What did they want?” Amy asked.
“Stupid thing about winning a vacation.” He said.
“Oh man, I hate those!” Amy said, putting her feet back up at her desk.
“What,” he said, “Vacations or telemarketers?”
“Fake Vacations.” she said, “You know, the ones that aren’t real.”
Hank’s brow furrowed as if the girl across the room was unfathomable, then he shrugged and leaned back in his seat.

Leather Pumps and Shaking Guns

Leather Pumps and Shaking Guns

Audrey sat her butt against the street lamp and struck a match for her cigarette.Her cherry red lips pillowed the loosely rolled paper. The shops on both sides of the street were going out of business,
and her old neighborhood was turning into a ghost town. From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow come ambling up the street, his chin tucked into the collar of his coat, and a 45 revolver shaking wildly in his left hand.
“I thought they put you away for good.” He grunted.
“She killed herself.”Audrey said as
she tore the cigarette from her lips and ground it out below a leather pump.
“She would never!”Clyde screamed,his hand shaking violently. The gun fired at an angle and ricocheted off of the sidewalk and took out the streetlamp. The two stood silently in the dark, a dog barked at the end of the street, and then another.
“It’s not as if I had wanted her dead, she was my best friend.” Audrey said between gritted teeth.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Clive said as the moon came from behind a cloud. He stood with the gun pointed at Audrey, hand no longer shaking.
“You won’t be around to remind me about it though.” The hammer started to ease back.
Audrey bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, but when the shot rang out, she was still standing. She was wondering how long the shock would last when she heard the thud of Clyde’s lifeless body hit the ground.
She opened one eye.He lay face down,motionless.
“Christ.” She muttered, her body relaxed, and she pulled out her cigarette papers from her clutch.
“What am I going to tell my probation officer.”

Writer’s Weekend is Here!

Writer’s Weekend is Here!

Our writer’s group….. “Skirt’s Up”……..meets weekly but every six months we take a weekend retreat to a TN State Park. We have time to write, discuss creativity, get to know one another and just have fun.

We’ve been a group since February 2013 and have stayed together despite all of our busy lives. These women mean so much to me and if it weren’t for them reflecting back to me, I wouldn’t have pursued my writing. Love and support are truly a gift to give and to receive.

Let’s get this party started!

(Picture below: An evening at one of our Fall 2016 weekend. Just chilling with (L to R) Tamara, Ashley, Keri & Heather)

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Ditching Illogical

Ditching Illogical

For the wedding, I got fake nails. They were beautiful, and fun for the time needed, but then, they were completely in the way. I ripped them off after soaking them in acetone, them being, not all of them, but most of them, and most of my real nails. It’s a good thing I did it in the dark of my balcony in the evening, because in the light, they remind me of the girl’s nails from Silence of the lambs, after she clawed, or rather, attempted to claw her way out of Buffalo Bill’s pit.

After some severe neglect of my section of the Skirts Up Writers I am happy to say, I am back in action (cliche’,yes, touche). Writing for Maylanna’s Homeric journey from her homeland of Atoria to the mountains of, OH-MY-GOD-I-HAVE-TO-REREAD-MY-STORY-AGAIN-BECAUSE-I-FORGOT-WHAT-I-NAMED-EVERYONE-AND-EVERYTHING-IN-IT has been slow, and Hank just won’t perform how I want him to, isn’t that just like a man(cliche’,doubles). All bullshit aside though, it’s time to get serious about writing. It’s not about looking cool,it’s about being cool.So, typing with fake nails was a stupid experience, and it was standing in my way.So I ripped them off.

Time to shine.(Cliche’,triples ;p)