Sunday, May 15, 2011

Close Shave

I knew I missed a spot shaving today when I felt the barrel pressing against the few stray whiskers on my chin.

I heard the cock of the gun and the sound of leather, as if someone was juggling footballs, when she crossed her legs. Sure, those legs were long, but not as long as her arms, which reached from the carpet to my chin.

Marco, she whispered: You must choose.  Who gets it?  You or Thatcher?  I think I knew which one my readers would save, after they take one look at Thatcher....

To be continued...

Ok, actually, I got up with the alarm, had a healthy bowl of cereal, juice, and cardamon-flavored coffee, caught a taxi to my office, did the routine check in stuff, faced various technical problems in my office and the classroom that couldn't be fixed, checked out some films at the library, ate rice, fish and salad for lunch, worked at my desk, went through the hassle of getting a rental car, fought traffic home, did three miles on the treadmill, fixed eggs and toast for dinner, and caught up on desk work.

So: Which story should I continue?

You wouldn't shoot me, Ismeralda, I hissed.

Thatcher knows your secrets.  And he'll chew those boots to shreds the moment you take them off.....


  1. So happy to see you ... blogging, and I want those boots !

  2. Rom-E-o, you are such a creative writer! Never a dull read.
    Keep bloging, love it!