An Aye for a Legg and a Legg for an Aye_Volcanic Music_Hit or Stay_Freedom from the Grind
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An Aye for a Legg and a Legg for an Aye
If Lucky Chances wwww.onedoor.ccasn't the worst singles bar in South Florida, it's only because the Board of Health had closed down the others. There were just so many hepatitis cases one county could handle at a time.Woodrow Aye arrived at happy hour promptly at 6:07 p.m., just after clocking out from the big box retailer that kept him gainfully employed, assuming wearing a blue vest and bitching about the Miami sports teams constituted work. After a few spritzes of Drakkar Noir and a drive-thru dinner at BurgerFace, Woodrow walked into Lucky Chance’s darkened lounge, single and ready to mingle. Peggy Legg...
Volcanic Music
“It’s mine, and you can’t have it,” he says, looking like a child despite his thinning hair, and his neck wrinkles.I look from the selection in the vending machine, to the crackerjack box in his hand, and I have serious concerns about this guy. We have only known each other two or three days. I‘ve been doing double time on my short legs to keep up with his long ones all morning long. I’m used to that, of course, in the marching band . . . but still.People warned me that Naples would be confusing. One guy even told me, “At least there’s vending machines.” There isn’t anything I want from that m...
Hit or Stay
The only game I know how to play is blackjack. But knowing how to play is very different than knowing how to win. Gambling isn’t something I get a thrill out of. However, since my somewhat close friend, Keith, is getting married in the Spring, I agreed to spectate as he and his brother test their fates on the tables. Keith and Terry are hypermasculine, the football type, but they are both under six foot and constantly express the regret I should have for not trying out as a six-foot-two introvert with mild haphephobia. The Mills Lodge Casino is forty minutes from downtown. It’s old, barely ret...
Freedom from the Grind
I want to quit; I just want out; I want to quit! I whisper it softly to myself, over and over. I want out, I want out. It was just an hour into my shift. I was a fellow soldier behind the monitor, feeling the sting of the customers as they sent their bombs over into our narrow trench. Bags and prizes were everywhere, Winnie the Pooh dolls rolling around in the dust, candy being mixed into a grisly, sugary rendition of a rainbow. I made my way up to the counter, already feeling that subconsciousness knocking inside my brain, throwing up the warning signs that this would be no different from the...