Cycling

Rich lay on his stomach, trying to get comfortable. No one down there would be able to trace his presence. Kids in school hated him. Maybe it was the large growth on his forehead. He made a fool of himself in gym rope climbing class.  Out of pity, the Scouts awarded him a merit badge for walnut cracking.
This was the yearly student 150 mile cycling competition and he would finally get his revenge, using his BB gun.
Here they came, flying around the turn, right into view. Ping! Ping! Ping! One after another lost control and crashed. He kept firing away until he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Directly across from him on another hill, Sally Quist, another outcast, a girl with several webbed toes, a girl Rich had snubbed when she asked if he'd take her to the prom, now she had him in her sights. Ping! Right smack in his forehead growth. Rich rolled over in pain.
Revenge comes when you least expect it.

Guacamole Dip

Einstein, for all his brilliance, could not create decent guacamole dip. It just lay in the bowl without character. He added spices that only made him sneeze. Poached eggs, beef stew, no problem. But unless he could decipher the mystery of this dip, his Superbowl party would die.
Not even Cran-apple juice could save him.
At the blackboard he tried various calculations, cursing his ineptitude. He much preferred soccer to American football anyway.
He lay in bed filled with worry. Then, like a lightning bolt, it hit him. Deviled eggs! He went on You Tube and watched a how to video. He worked like a madman, created 300 deviled eggs. He tried a few. Delicious!
The fact that he passed wind did not bother him a bit. When guests arrived, he would open all the windows.

Robot

I did not sign up for this. Cleaning, pressing his clothes, garbage take out, that's what I'm coded for. He says he's a writer. Paces the floor. Wears suspenders. What I don't see is him writing.
Wilma wound up with an opera singer--at least she gets to hear music. I've only seen this guy in his underwear one time. Last week he hosted a session for his writer friends. What nonsense. Even robots know a mixed metaphor, a dangling particle, a run on sentence.
After each of them read, they stood and did the hokey pokey. Now this idiot is trying to teach me this stupid dance.
I need to contact my union rep. If he tries to tango with me I'll knee him in the groin.

Stampede

How did we wind up like this, Bernie asked Cecil.
Keep moving!
They sped up. I'm tired and thirsty, one of them said. Harriet angled over, coughing on dust. I have a bad feeling about this, she gasped.
Where are we going, George bellowed. Leaders pushed them harder. Hour after hour. Finally they took a break. We need a plan, Bernie thought. What if we charge the horses and scare them off? Then he realized the men had guns and it might be suicide.
A word popped into his head--stampede. He passed the word on to the others, who had no idea what it meant. Confusion reigned. They finally understood the object was to rumble off in all directions at once.
Unfortunately, Ned was in the front and he was the clumsiest of all. He tripped over his own hooves and fell. The others fell over him into a pile. Cowboys cursed them and let the whips fly. Bernie and Cecil were on the bottom, cursing their lives.
Sally, always the optimist, suggested the real purpose of this cattle drive was to get them in shape for the cattle Olympics.
We need another plan, Bernie moaned.

Race Track

I used to go to the track and bet five horses to win. This strategy cost me money because unless the winner paid over ten dollars, I was in the negative.
I just wanted to feel the rush of winning. On the last race of the day, behind $23, I bet 8 of the ten horses to win. I did win, but it paid only $4. I lost $12 on that race.
Stupid, I know. Guys like me should stay away from the track. But this was money I earned as a Chippendale's dancer. Easy come, easy go. One second some woman is stuffing a twenty down my thong, the next it is blown at the track.

Pogo

Alice and Fran were doing their weekly Saturday pogo stick journey through town. As they bounced, Alice revealed she read something in a medical journal. Researchers were working on a new vibrator which could not only cause orgasms, but impregnate women. Fran said if that's the case who needs men?
They hopped around a corner and saw two muscular men unloading a truck. Maybe we spoke too soon, Alice said. One of the men made a sexist remark as they women hopped past.
You're on borrowed time, Alice yelled as they pogoed off to lunch.

The Host

Joe offered to host our writing group. He is big hearted, impossible not to like. We had never been to his condo. He opened the door wearing his usual huge smile The place smelled of pepper jack cheese. Piles of nail clippings and navel lint covered the floor. Refreshments were stale pork rinds and coffee that tasted like nursing home bath water..For no reason, Joe yodeled at regular intervals. His bathroom door was open. We kept our distance. Joe asked for quarters for the washer. He was out of clean underwear.
Mary had to use the bathroom. Seconds later, we heard screams. Joe admitted there was a plumbing problem.
Afterward, we shook hands at the door. Outside, the police were arresting some guy who may have slugged a family member. On each of our cars a business card was stuck on the wiper advertising hookah pipes.
I really enjoyed Joe's turtle paintings, but his asking price was out of my range.

What Will Be

None of us know the future. Who can say which 401k will prosper? Praying will not help. God is busy sprucing up aging galaxies.
I asume she will finish her quish. But suppose a provacative thought occurs and she forgets about it? Could I snatch it from her? Am I quick enough? The others are preoccupied. Their reflexes lack quickness.
Es=astern philosophy addresses what will be. Stay in the moment. This moment I'm damned hungry. I need to expand my horizons like my belly is expanding with starvation. The guy next to me is getting angry voicemails. Maybe if he gets up to respond, I'll grab his egg in a mug.
In college, I failed ethics.

Things We Decorate

windows
small pets
infants
cars
skin
buildings
classrooms
laptops
resume
lawns
billboards
trees
elderly people
dinner tables
store fronts
uniforms
walls
gardens
sneakers
socks
sales pitches
Martha Stewart

Fallow

Sunlight bakes his skin
Shampoo searches for follicles
Lice want camoulflage
Insect bites swell
Reflection blind dinner parties
Nothing to ruffle
To caress, to smell, to style
Sweat glistens unashamedly
Cursing genetics
Worships Fabio

Deal With It

Buzzing phones during movies and plays
Tall people arriving late and blocking views
Slurpers. Too much chest hair.
Those who just will not shut up
Horn beepers one second after the light turns green
Fast typers and dictators who must control seating
Dirty curtains
Those with perfect posture who flaunt it
Huggers who hug everyone
Hemp and chia seeds
Feuding parrots
Standing room on buses
Death by avalanche
Feet photos on Facebook
People who grouse about everything
Pointless sentences
Exposed butt cracks
Pandemics

Six Words

Things in six words--

Dogs licking you without warning
Underwear that clings right into wedgie
Endless applause following my open mikes
Waffle fries and honey mustard combos
Soap slivers that just pile up
Clock radios I can set quickly
Thin mucus flowing through sinus openings
The elimination of all toenail fungus
Tulips that bloom all year long
An epic poem about my aura
Colorful seashells you can munch on
Bird poop that can be recycled

Stars Align

I got my favorite librarian a lavender cashmere scarf. She never wears it, not even in frigid weather. There was a fire drill and we had to evacuate. I waited for her outside, heart pounding. She emerges with her coat buttoned up to the top--no scarf.
The stars never align for me. By the time I acquired the charm, wit, confidence and vocabulary to bowl women over, my hair was gone and my neck resembles a bombed out mountainside. No one cares how elegant I look in plaid. Young people offer me their seat on buses. You say, see, the stars have aligned. I say, shoot me now and get it over with.