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HAVE YOU EVER HAD ONE OF THOSE DAYS? The kind of day that finds you sitting quietly in your armchair and suddenly a terrific din is heard outside. You might stand up and walk to the window, in order that you might see the source of this noise.
My word! Heavens! Crikey!
Look at that, will you...a tiny parade filing past your house. Right here on quiet, peaceful Juniper Lane!
It is not the clown with the bleeding head wound marching by that scares you, as much as does the pack of trained Pomeranians. The little devils have teeth that have been filed to razor-sharp points, and their backs are shaved (you wonder about the clown's back - is it shaved as neatly and as cleanly as are the backs of the demonic Pomeranians?). The Pomeranians jump and twirl and stand up on their hind legs, all at the behest of the woman in the top hat, it would appear. Looking as dangerous as Ecstasy-fueled Euro-trash in her tuxedo jacket and fishnet, she shouts in guttural Slovak at the demonic Pomeranians, and lashes at them with a tiny, tiny whip. "Nadol, hnusné beštie! Nadol, hnusné beštie," she cries.
The diminutive whip cracks. Pomeranians growl. "Nadol, hnusné beštie!"
Mrs. Remke pokes her head out the door. Your neighbor is obviously concerned, but stares longingly at the top hat and the tiny, tiny whip.
Poem of the Week
who have experienced
on a large
i tell raif
i think my
might be dead
haven't seen her
& her car hasn't moved
for two weeks.
you would smell it
passing me a plate
of triangular shaped bread
slathered in jam.
Story of the Week
DARLEEN SQUEELED into the empty spot as soon as the gleaming white Mercedes pulled out. "We got lucky," she told Montana. "Even on a Monday night, this lot is killer."
Montana rolled her big blue eyes. "Whatever."
The eleven year old had better things to do, like text her friends. Incessantly, as if she had a tic. The kid hadn't wanted to shop tonight, but Darleen insisted. This was their first Christmas without Paulie and the girls needed to stick together. Darleen's ex had been nasty lately and mediation had hit a cement wall. Montana wasn't aware how dangerously close they were to losing access to Paulie's vast and unreported wealth.
Montana sighed dramatically as she yanked open the door of the Porsche Cayenne and tumbled out. She didn't pause in her texting.
Darlene checked her face in the rearview mirror. The most recent fat transfer had been wildly successful. She loved her new lips. Grabbing her Gucci bag, she hopped out of the front seat.
Her daughter trailed her into the mall, thumbs flashing on her phone keypad.