00079

October 7, 2008

cute canine

regurgitates cat

scat then eats

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The Head of Wisdom

August 13, 2008


MourningSerial_1

June 1, 2008

It was a sunny Sunday morning but my head felt like Monday. I had been fighting a cold or flu or something downright heavy for close to a week and it was already the first of June. This isn’t supposed to happen. This was a winter type sickness and summer had already begun what with the Memorial Day parade having passed the studio weeks ago.

I slide out of bed and slide open the French pocket door the hecklin’ nude cat was waiting on. I had installed the door a couple of months ago, replacing a hollow core slab door that the cat could open easily with his monkey-paw ways. The warm velvet cat would never be able to move the heavy glass door with no swing. This French space saver and old world idea was shaping up to be a feline-meow-maker of demanding proportions….

Coffee. Black. Thank heavens for this German made one-shot coffee maker. It was called Korriagaus or something with tricky syllables. I just called it Corriga. Thought of her as a long tall barista always available for a quick one: Dark Magic with double water, gluten-free donut with white icing. God my head is stuffed like a bear stuck above an Adirondack hunter’s cabin fireplace. I get to the couch. Position the breakfast. Grab Mac, start to write.

“Hey Honey, will you be having any….cereal this morning ?”

“No,” I huff back. “Can you gimme another coffee?”

“What Kind?”

“Oh….too much information. Lady’s choice.”

“OK”

“Thanks doll, you’re a peach. No wait, not in season yet…..You’re a damn fine Lilac. You really get to my nose.”

“What?

“Nothing. Hey you got the funnies?”

“Got the funnies! Why yes I do. I do and I am reading them on the back porch as you speak. You’ll really like Zippy. Why don’t you come out here and join me and the sun and your dog?”

“Aaah, you got that coffee?”

“Yup, you’ll find it on the deck. Hey did you leave this brown paper package out here or did we get a delivery this morning.”

“What. A package?” It’s Sunday I wondered as I typed and licked the icing off my lower lip stubble.

“I can’t hear your mumblies from the other room. Come on out it’s beautiful.”

“Aaaah. Ok. I’m comin’ ” Beautiful package or beautiful day? I wondered as I gathered me in my robe and began the already long slow shuffle to the outside world.


I Sleep with a Velvet Hammer

May 14, 2008