Mr Aloysius Lets the Cleaning Lady Go_Crimson Coloured Honey_The Last Safe September_Wear Flowers In
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Mr Aloysius Lets the Cleaning Lady Go
Aloysius Lets the Cleaning Lady GoIt really was time to let the wretched woman go. Goodbye, but as graciously as possible, of course. Aloysius had forty pounds in his pocket and the words on the tip of his tongue. She stamped into the room, in the middle of a sentence as usual; another thing that irked him, her non-stop chatter. “So, you see, Mr Aloysius, there is a big difference between being alone and being lonely, if you get my drift. A big difference.” Maggie was unusually stern, having finished her hours. They were in the orchid house, where she was allowed one cigarette after her shift,...
Crimson Coloured Honey
Hush, she said. Hush, Hush, Hush, Hush. I was making too much noise and I knew it but I couldn't stop. She hushed me for balancing the disorganized and deafening silence. There was the turn of a page here, the click click of a computer's old, overused keys there and the steady humm flowing out of me. Hush, she says again, you're being too loud. I don't hear her. I am aware of what she is saying somehow, but her words are just syllables floating around me, beautiful little bees with their own buzz. They harmonize nicely with each other, coming together to form a sentence but they clash with my ...
The Last Safe September
There was something Margot liked about September, or at least that she disliked less than she disliked the essence of other months. Of course there were sometimes days that still sweltered, and days when the first frosts came, and storms raged, but it was generally a month that was mild enough and cool enough. The nights had started to draw in a little, and the dawn to come a little later, but it was still too soon to dwell on that. And there were no significant dates in September. Of course, not Christmas, and not Easter. And not Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, or even Remembrance Day or Hallow...
Wear Flowers In Your Hair
“And Spring brought me the frightening laughter of the idiot!” -Arthur Rimbaud A Season in Hell On a Friday in April, we crossed St. Johns bridge outta Portland and into the sawmill country below. Before we pulled out, the lines on a local college station were open, taking rewww.onedoor.ccquests and Big John put in the call. They were swamped and the DJ finally threw on “Velouria” ten minutes later as we curved along Oleson road, passing Hideaway Park. The DJ must’ve been jolted by our Pixies request, because right after that song finished, he spun “Drivin’ on 9” by the Breeders, somethin’ for us to vibe t...