Sneaking Out

Ralph defied his parents' orders and kept sneaking out to play chess. It was an addiction. His grades suffered. He was hanging out with a rough crowd--east Europeans and Russian kids his age. They cursed and spit and drank Red Bull out of the bottle.
His folks showed him slides depicting the evils of chess, how it leads to bad hygiene,sloppy fashion and non verbal communication.
They got him involved in a healthy activity--a youth bowling league. Ralph had never been inside a bowling alley. As soon as he entered the place, fear gripped him. Loud crashing noises, shouting, smells, strange shoes. His whole body shook. His team consisted of four other addicted chess fiends. None had a clue what to do. He could barely lift the ball. His shoes were too big. He had a two step approach and tossed it with both hands. He bowled a 36. Snickers from other teams. This was living hell
A month later, he and 12 others hid in Marvin's basement in the middle of the night, chess boards spread out on a large folding table.
They twitched in anticipation. Addiction had won another round. Are there rounds in chess?

Weather Advisory

Al knew how to prepare for a winter storm. He organized his four kids into snow shoveling quadrants and trained his Basset Hound to howl at the first sign of a flake. His wife had to check the entire car for defects.
Leo, his neighbor, offered his NASA designed snow blower, but Al declined. He wanted his kids to be self sufficient.
He subscribed to Netflicks. Last storm they had tried charades and his kids thought he and his wife's interpretation of Jay Z and Beyonce was a rendition of Zombie Nation.
The sky darkened, wind increased, small pets flew past, old women in black held crucifixes, the mayor warned everyone to stay home.
Only the town checkers center was open. 42 hardy checker players were hold up inside playing one game after another. Courage comes in many forms. Three days later, when they were dug out from two feet of snow, it was discovered cannibalism and board games are not mutually exclusive.
Al lay flowers on the site. His dog pissed nearby. Now that was mutually exclusive.

Joe's Conscience

I am Joe's conscience. I prevent him from stealing other writers' ideas. I make sure he wipes down gym equipment when he's done. If he sees someone drop money he returns it.
I make certain he doesn't pee behind trees.
Sometimes I take a break and all hell busts loose. Let's just say Joe has peed in more than one flower bed.
I tell myself this is a process. Ethics are a fluid concept within such a complex, multi-faceted intellect as his. In fact, I'm having brunch with his intellect tomorrow. We need to discuss his cranky prostate and that nasty element called male menopause.
The entity known as Joe needs my guidance. For the sake of the flowers.

The Inevitable

I don't want to die.
No one wants to pass on, but it's inevitable.
Why? Why can't we just go on. I have so much I want to accomplish.
Like what?
In my heart I wanted to become a molecule.
Atoms don't have hearts
Please don't stick me in that atom smasher.
I have no influence. I'm just like you. Helpless in the face of research.
Let's be brave and not give them the satisfaction of screaming.
Atoms can't scream.

That was a cranky bunch, Dr.
I agree. It's always the electrons putting up a stink. Why can't they be like the protons and neutrons?
Ego. They all think they're the God Particle.

Out of Reach

Any hot woman under 40
My ear wax
My fashion sense
My paper shredder
Cape May
The strange growth in the middle of my back
That thing that fell under my car seat
A viable political candidate
Someone who grasps my complexity
Coherent mumbling to keep me company
A new Lexus
An impressive aquarium
Sprinting anywhere
The hummus in the back of the fridge

Roadside Assistance

Roadside assistance is one of the perks of getting a new car.
I pulled over, called the number and asked for assistance.
The woman was very polite.
I asked where the best burrito place was.
I asked where the hot clubs were.
I asked where I could find a good barber and dentist.
She provided no help.
Kept asking about my battery, tires, hoses and belts.
Was there smoke coming from under the hood?
Was the car turning over?
I explained there was nothing wrong with the car.
I was just feeling unhappy and disconnected.
She told me happiness was in the glove compartment.
She was right.

Cpt. Bly, the Pug

Cpt. Bly, a pug, trusted none of the other dogs in the dog park. He was convinced they were planning something against him. When another animal approached and sniffed his butt, he tightened up in suspicion. High end poodles and that snotty afghan wanted nothing to do with him.He isolated himself and refused to romp with the other dogs. Truthfully, pugs don't actually romp. They take a few steps and stop to rest.
One day, a rather ruffled looking mixed breed  asked him to come join the others. Cpt. Bly responded by raising his leg and letting go a stream. The other dog, rather than backing off, did the same. Suddenly the pug felt a connection.
Distrust was exhausting and he welcomed the opportunity to let down his guard. He confided that two years before, he had impregnated a wolfhound. The puppies were so ugly, people adopted them and posted them on You Tube. They all got agents and made commercials. I never saw a cent, Cpt. Bly complained.
His new friend only wanted to know how he mounted the other dog. Bly said he hopped up and held on for dear life.He barked happily. His owner, Lucy, could not believe her ears and eyes. She tried to hug him, but he pulled away.Cpt. Bly needed to take things slow. First he'd let her sniff his butt and take it from there.