Hey y'all - fine work on yesterday's one-liner story! Woot! You took Sadie on quite the adventure, di'int you? Why, it took 30 or so comments before even a whiff of zombie bestenched the tale. That's some KIND of self-control, and you are to be congratulated.
Today I was going to turn the writing responsibilities right around (doin' a 540, as it were) and post a story I wrote for the January Wordsmiths Speed challenge (see over there to the right for a cool-ass button that will blip you through the intertubez right OVER to the site for more info) but something tells me I need to wait, re-read it, tweak it so that I'm not foreshadowing the everliving SNOT out of the twist, and then post it.
Instead then I will tell you how disappointed I am in the Universe right now. Yes, disappointed. It is, after all, THIS universe that has shrugged onto my existence not one, but TWO mealy apples in the past 2 days. TWO! Ew!
Man, I love me some good crisp juicy apples, the snappy report of that first bite as teeth pierce taut flesh, the drips of sweetness sliding over lips and down the throat, the military crunch of chewing, like a squadron of boots on cold gravel.
Did I get these things today or yesterday? No, no I did not. Today the first bite was a disappointing 'thwip' followed by a mouthful of barely-damp suede. The individual CELLS of that apple could be felt rubbing against one another, the collegial cohesiveness of a good ripe fruit displaced by disgruntled elbow-poking of bickering brothers. Bleah.
Yesterday's apple was worse, and though I soldiered on through a 'round' of bites along the fruits' presumed equator, I could not go further. They were drying out my mouth, making my teeth nervous, irritating my frontal lobes, and letting down my limbic system. Eating an apple should be sensual, robust, invigorating, but it felt like I was chewing my way through two sulky groupies of a third-rate rock band - bitterly begrudging, barely tolerable.
Well, to heck with THAT, I say! I want FIRST order rock band groupie apples from now on! No, wait! Forget the daggone groupies, I want the band THEMSELVES, all flashy and full of it, screaming choruses and soaring notes, man. I want the Steven Freaking TYLER of apples!
Just hold the hair and scarves, if you don't mind. I have enough of them for BOTH my apple and me.
Which rock star would YOUR apple be, eh?
And have a wonderful afternoon.