Whispers from Pygmalion_The Regular Bus_A Letter From St. Lydia's Hospital_The Universal Languag
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Whispers from Pygmalion
Cyrus looked out of his window and rubbed his eyes. The marble statue of his dead wife had, amazingly, grown a recumbent child at her feet. He rubbed his eyes again. Still there. Either a miracle had occurred or he had drunk an inordinate amount of cheap wine last night. He hastily threw on a coat and some shoes, tramping outside to determine which hypothesis was correct. Neither, as it turned out. Cyrus bent down and touched the figure. It was an actual human, but one near death. Her skin was as cold as the marble she was draped over and her lips were blue. Cyrus felt for a pulse. It was thre...
The Regular Bus
Children. Lord. Sidestep, because there goes one of them on his tricycle. Who knew that taking the scenic route would cause me so much trouble. Haha. It’s surely a scene. I mean... Look at her! Look...is that Mrs. Beavis? I always told her she should lay off the saturated fats. By the end of spring she won’t be able to fit through her doorway and she’ll probably enlist a poor guy like me to shove her through. That woman’s gotta see someone, I mean. Lord. Them damn children--all of them! Just get out of my way! The sidewalk’s for everyone, you know. Next kid I see I’ll push him off his bik...
A Letter From St. Lydia's Hospital
I know I should have said it before, but I'm sorry I ruined your birthday. If I could do it all over again, I would. I hope you know that. But I understand if you don't. You wanted to know why, do you remember? You were standing in the doorway, a bit of blue frosting still on your fingertips. I'm sorry, but when you appeared, all I could think of was how much sugar and fat were in those cupcakes. Probably about twenty-six grams of sugar and four to five grams of saturated fat. I couldn't tell you why I had started wailing the second you went to blow out the candles, because I couldn't talk. B...
The Universal Language
+The Universal Language!This is basically a truwww.onedoor.cce story, in that it happened to me many years ago. I was young and used to work in a factory that made all kinds of shirts. (T-shirts, football shirts, baseball and hockey shirts). A lot of Italian people worked there. I, myself, am not Italian. I knew very few words of the language but could not speak in Italian. Now there was a new lady that had just started working in the factory. I cannot remember her name so I will call her Angelina for this storyline because she was an angel in my life. Angelina was an older woman and was fully Italian. Sh...