Eleven stood up straight. Tall. Proud. Some of his friends were slouchy and slumpy. One legged. But not Eleven. Eleven was perfect, a matched set.
That’s why Eleven grew so jealous over the years. Why teach children to count to Ten? Surely they could see that Eleven was bigger, better. Why, Ten didn’t even have anything in the ones column. A void.
Eleven wanted to talk, to tell everyone about how important he was. But the only people who understood him were CPAs and they were SO boring.
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“The whole country is traumatized with grief,” she lamented. “COVID, opioids, gun violence. We should just all take a day to grieve.”
He look at her with a sly smile. Then he put a vinyl record on the phonograph and said, “Let’s dance.”
He forced her into a standing position, took her hand, and twirled her around the kitchen in her house slippers. When the next song began, they continued dancing. When the record was done, they were both smiling.
“Let’s get dressed and go for a walk,” she said.
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“Over 40% of our jobs are unfilled,” the HR guy said to me. “So you can pick and choose among the ones you’re qualified for.”
“Why are so many jobs unfilled?” I asked.
“Oh, you know, kids today don’t want to work.”
“You did notice that over a million people have died of COVID so far, right? Don’t you think that makes a difference?”
“Nah,” he said. “People are just lazy.”
“I see,” I paused. “I don’t think I want to work here either.” I got up and walked out.
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The Good Time Dance Hall had open sides and loud speakers. Very loud speakers. When it was time for a dance party in the village, the speakers attracted more than people to the party. If you were foolish enough to wander into the darkness you could see foxes, antelope, rabbits and maybe even a wolf or two dancing and prancing in a party of their own.
Most people didn’t know about the party crashers, but I did. I took my . . .
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“What’s for breakfast?” he asked. He strode into the kitchen fully dressed, briefcase in hand. The boys were at the counter eating what they always ate – cereal. Which he’d know if he ever paid the least bit of attention to anyone but himself.
“Belgian waffles with strawberries,” I answered.
“Ah, good,” he said. He grabbed the coffee I’d set out for him, gave me a peck on the cheek. “Have a good one,” he said, and he was gone.
Maybe I should increase the amount of slow acting poison I’m putting in his coffee. Faster is better.
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Why are tiny people such loud speakers? They embarrass you in restaurants with their loud voices. They yell into the phone so you must move it away from your ear. They demand to be seen because they are shorter than all the normal speakers out there. “Hear me now!” they say in loud voices. “Hear me!”
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Momma Maudie ran the family. She made up the rules and decided what everyone would do to help the family. Sometimes the littlest ones had ideas of their own. An “ahem” from Momma Maudie would shut them down fast. She gave me the job of finding out how we could get rich with cryptocurrency. I made her rich, but me too, and then I took off for Portugal and never looked back. So long, Momma Maudie!
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I was on the N-95 heading west in one of those multi-seat helicars. You know, the old fashioned ones where the batteries used to catch fire all the time. Well, anyway, I was headed west and I saw him heading east. He was in the newer type of helicar that only holds 1 person and goes 200 mph. I’m sure it was him! He’s unmistakable even at that speed.
I’m sure you can catch him at a terminal.
Are you going to mail me a reward?
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The shoes were 30 years old, often worn, but seemingly indestructible. The soles looked brand new. Those shoes lasted longer than her marriage, her career, her home ownership. She resolved to wear them every day, every damn day, until her life took a turn for the better. They would bring her luck. They would!
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“Let’s paint the kitchen,” I said.
He glanced up from his bowl of Cheerios and looked around. “Okay. What color?”
“Orange,” I said. “I love orange. It’s cheerful and bright. It makes me feel good.”
“It would be like living inside a pumpkin!” he exclaimed. “How about that gray color that’s so popular now?”
Reason number 1,347 leading up to my divorce.
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