Write, Mind

Now. I am annoyed. Sitting in this chair usually gives me a sense of peace, but today none comes. Jerrald’s becoming increasingly distant. There was a time when there wouldn’t be a thought he had that he wouldn’t want my opinion on. Now? The only things left to mark my standing in the hierarchy around here are our memories and this fucking chair. Old and useless all. He doesn’t hold them in such high esteem anymore. I live in the moment. Always have. It’s a survival trait, really. Nobody was willing to teach me how to fish. So, I learned to barter for fish. Steal for fish. Fight for fish. Is it a short-sighted approach? Maybe. But only if we went hungry. Thanks to me we rarely went hungry. I think of loyalty. I see none on display these days, because now?   Now ‘The Boss’ is obsessed with tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Yesterday. He calls me into his room. Says something about how we have to change the way a couple of things are working around her...

To Hell with Cupid! Stupid Cherub! He couldn't hit the side of a Barn with a Cow in a Tornado I'm afraid Ol' Blue Eyes got it wrong with all His songs He sang of Her. Lovely lady doesn't exist anymore Old Haunts are Remodeled traps for guests to this rat race Nobody noticed See, her death? Happened quick it was as fast paced as her life, so I think Ol' Blue eyes got it wrong Stupid Cupid Little Cherub should be strung up By the string of his bow He couldn't strike a match on a plain with no wind during a Heatwave and I think Willy Shakes got it wrong Romeo and Juliet took the Coward's way out Before 9 to 5 cured their never ending appetite Passion is an afterlife Once you hit 30 Sorry Willy, that's no tragedy That's a happy ending! Deaf and dumb little cherub Stupid Cupid Someone should clip your pretty wings and serve them up as a special in the banquet halls of magicians And I think J.K. got it wrong Lacki...

A beatdown, raggedy Delorean pulls up to the side of a busy intersection. The driver side window rolls down jerkily and a young unassuming head sticks itself out of the newly created opening. “You Arthur?” It asks a stranger standing on the curb. “I am. How’d you know?” The man replies, stepping closer to the car. “Not many people can pull off a Bowler, kinda weird. I took a guess. The Boss doesn’t really connect with normies so I’m used to looking for ‘different’ but we can talk more in the Delo, get in. We’re on a schedule.” Arthur circles around the front of the car, opens the door and slides into the passenger seat easily. ‘Hm,’ He thinks to himself, ‘It’s actually a lot nicer on the inside.’ Something in his facial expression registers with the driver who smiles slyly. “I’d think a man in your line of work wouldn’t put too much stock in appearances but yeah, my baby’s a beaut on the inside isn’t she?” He asks, tapping the dashboard proudly. Arthur thinks ...