Bickering Rooftops

“Just look at her over there—thinking she’s better than the rest of us.”

“Come on, Sally. How do you know what she’s thinking?”

“Oh really, Jim? You’re gonna take her side? Typical…”


“—Don’t think I haven’t noticed you talking about her newfound flamboyance.”

“No! I… Well it’s hard not to notice how fantastically she sticks out.”

“‘Fantasically’! I remember you used to talk about how fantastically I stuck out…”

“Oh, come on babe…”

“Don’t ‘come on babe’ me! Admit it! My shingles don’t do it for you anymore, do they!?”

“Well they are a bit tattered…”

With all the stress and emotions of the US election today, I decided to go with a lighthearted joke of a story this week. I hope you enjoyed it!

Check out Friday Fictioneers for more stories and prompts!

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Word count: 98

Ominous Obelisks

Frothy foam floating atop steaming chemical vats
Boils, becoming warm white clouds
Climbing up cold concrete columns,
And billowing forth from icy smoke stacks.

The spouting towers stand in testimony:
An armada spanning across the horizon.
Obelisk overlords exploiting our energy addiction,
Polluting the air with grey oppression,
Forcing us to accept their overcast depression.

Snowflakes fall from the man-made melancholy.
The pleasant white specks against poignant grey
Appear to swirl about playfully on chilly eddies,
Until the warming Earth melts this frivolous fiction
And a frigid downpour dampens our hypnotic joy.

Suddenly the obelisks’ true colors show,
And the consequence of our reliance
To the parasitic dichotomy we’ve fostered
Placing Us above absolutely everything else
Has finally run its course. Read more

In Need of Maintenance

For months I stood there
Teetering upon the precipice;
It being clear what I should do
Yet all I would or could choose
Was to merely waste away in fear.

For years I stood like an oak
My roots digging deeper and deeper
Into fertile soil with fright,
Seeking in childish desperation
To cling to my ledge and fight the erosion
Crumbling the world around me,
And threatening to dethrone me
From my carefully constructed perch. Read more

Bell Tower Eulogy

The dull, rhythmic thud of a cane sounded throughout the chapel. Worn wood wove around the warped shaft like a mess of braided vines clinging to a tree in the forest. Attached to the crutch was an old woman whose warped spine complimented that of her cane. She hunched over the support staring at her feet as she shuffled down the aisle. Without bending her neck, she looked up under her eyebrows at the cross behind the altar.

Her entire life she had seen that poor man hanging there, clad in nothing more than torn cloth and thorns. Every Sunday she had consumed his body and imbibed his blood, swearing the sincerity of her belief in his divine martyrdom with a resolute, “Amen.” Yet today, that sincerity faltered. Read more

A Black Morning

The beautiful song of a mother robin chirping to her hatchling wafted through the window on a warm spring breeze. The serenity of the scene was suddenly interrupted by the metallic twang of a mechanical marimba ringtone. A hand groggily reached out from under the covers to silence the violently vibrating intrusion. Its back looked like the varicose vein road map of a budding urban metropolis. The hand unfurled an index finger and repeatedly pushed against the smooth screen, blindly searching for the “snooze” button.

“Not today,” thought Celia, Read more

The Slowest Second

“I love it!” she exclaimed, severing our first kiss and looking down to admire the birthday present.

I was still in shock when she suddenly frowned and held up the pocket watch, aghast, and said, “I don’t think it’s working.”

“No,” I smiled, staring at the stalled second hand, “It’s just savoring the moment.”

Written for Week 30 of Three Line Tales.

photo by Rachel Crowe

Growing Up

I think we need to talk.

Look, this isn’t easy to say, but it’s best to just come out with it… Read more

Couples Therapy

“A horse!?”

Mary’s voice was shrill enough to shatter glass. Good thing this is plastic, thought Jim as he shrugged and sipped some iced tea.

“Why on Earth would we need a horse? Read more

Haiku: Bloom

Our relationships
Like flowers that bloom each year
Wilt but never die

Written in response to Scattered Thoughts‘ haiku today. Make sure to check out her wonderful work!

The Plague

I have seen a world beyond our own,
A realm that angels still call home,
A place where wild animals still roam
and majestic tress still grow
In ageless, untouched, beauty of which
The Devine, indeed, would find me remiss,
If not to compare it with true loves’ first kiss.

A place of such grace to cause men to weep,
As if a loved one closed their eyes for eternal sleep;
With rolling plains that keep the benevolent beauty arcane
And make me believe God himself had ordain
It made as immaculately magnificent as his own domain.

I look at such serenity and fall to a knee,
As I am weakened in wonder by an unworldly deity,
And invite you to secede and flee
To see this sea of tranquility
As if seen in a half-forgotten dream.

But I must refrain,
No matter how much in pain,
From allowing such a delicate domain
To be introduced to a plague no one can contain.

For in this beauty there is something amiss,
Perhaps the cause of such frivolity and bliss.
An infection, that most would agree without objection,
To be a blessing on the realm that won angels’ affection.

His vile disease will take hold and spread,
Making the kingly oak cower and beasts afraid to tread,
While leaving nothing in its stead
But the depraved, enslaved, and dead.

In its domination and castration of the population,
Through degradation and colonization,
This predator will force the entire world
Into assimilation of its new nation.

If you wish for the evidence of such a cancer,
You need only look to our world for the answer;
Listen to the trees mowed down by the panzer,
Or the agony of animals enslaved by a master;
Look to the once blue oceans discolored with oil,
Or find the radiation of Hiroshima in the soil.

Remember the bombs that hit Vietnam;
How they released relentless napalm
Exorbitant enough to embalm
All those caught in the maelstrom
Of a distant president’s pogrom
Who ponders whether to split a neutron
And usher in the ultimate, unsettling calm.

For this is the expertise of such a disease
That calls the world its own.
That takes no care of the place it takes
From angels who called it home;
And creates a storm that will transform
What the Almighty made from his throne.

But the omnipotent will not remain indifferent,
And in an act of deliberate cataclysmic belligerence,
He will soon recall his loan.

As even the benevolent Bodhi tree is conquered,
The beautiful beasts have been collared.
And any resistance has been harbored.
While total destruction is sponsored
Through the wholesale rape and pillage of God’s village,
By a plague that claims its lineage
To He who created them in His own
Immaculate, marvelous, and magnificent image.

This was a slam poem I wrote several years ago. It was an exploration of my diction and rhyme capabilities. That being said, I still like the message that I was able to get through. I hope you do too!