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A Night on the Town

 

A Night on the Town Leaving the party at 2:30 I take home some friends. I’m in town now, a cup or two of coffee sounds damn good. I search my wallet and find a gas card some old movie tickets and my I. D. I do a double take yeah, that’s me. So to my car I look, a handful of pennies sparks a twinkle in my eye. In the gas station counting pennies 67 of them I get two quarters and head out on my way. My pockets had earlier revealed 84 cents, (That should cover it) my mind murmurs. Heading south on 503, the smell of cows lingering in Brush Prairie. I see Sharis in the distance, get to the light. Red. Some ass turns right in front of me. So I pull in the parking lot, cars, two or three. I step inside and sit at the booth, A guy who looks like his wife just left him stares into nothing. Jim, that was his name. Left after my first cup. So I’m on my fourth now, a nice guy that’s waiting on me sits at the end of the booth, crossword in hand, "Hope I get this done before the paper comes with the answers," The new day has begun.

Written by David L Ferraro

 

 

 

A Song for A Night on the Town

The sun is coming up The paper has arrived More people on the road From this I have Derived They’re on their way to work To earn money for their life Perhaps for food Perhaps for rent Or maybe even wife To work we go To earn our money All for board and keep The days go bye The years go bye We work, we eat, we sleep The sun is going down Arms stretched above our heads A yawn goes out A thought comes in Man I’m tired I think I’ll go to bed To work we go To earn our money All for board and keep The days go bye The years go bye We work, we eat, we sleep.

Written by David L Ferraro

 

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Weekend Warrior

The moles had arrived again... the lawn was silent, except for their distant rustling; they were in there, I knew it. The time before they had left a trail of disaster in their wake... This time I meant war, my arsenal now included smoke bombs, m-80's, bear traps, and various implements of destruction, I was ready this time. Moles + Lawn = WAR; The aftermath: The feeling of pride from achievement rushed over me as I walked through my lawn with tongs in one hand and a hefty-bag in the other. As I re-seeded the desolate crater, I thought to myself, Damn, I love my lawn.

 

Written by Jeremy J Jones and Joseph Neil Beard

 

 

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In the Spotlight

It was about 9:30, the crowd had been seated for some time now, at least two hours. I was the last to sing. My heart racing and throat dry, as always, I approached the stage with a feeling of great excitement and nervousness. Wearing chords, a T-shirt, a leather spike bracelet, and my long hair relaxed, hanging over my shoulders. I look up at the bright lights facing the cozy stage. Technical difficulties make the mood fun, my accompaniment and I make jokes like a comedy team to break the ice, not much to break due to friends in the audience cheering us on. The equipment now ready, and in my head were the lyrics I had screwed up on many 'a' time practicing this song. I ready myself and look at my friend on guitar. The mic picks up the faint "1-2-3 1-2-3" as I count it off. The song starts out on its irregular rhythm. Just me, my friend, and his guitar " I seem to recognize your face," I sing it, "haunting familiar yet I can't seem to place it." This moment I knew was going to be one of the more memorable times of high school years, even possibly my teenage years. As my voice and the strumming faded out I relaxed and welcomed the applause also with comedy. With one hand gesturing the crowd to give me more and with the other giving them a bashful "stop it, no need for applause". People now began to get up, stretch, and congratulate the performers, allot of people shuffling through the doorways of the stuffy miniature auditorium. The performers that can stay a bit longer help to disassemble the sound equipment and haul it just across the parking lot to the choir room. The last of us scurry off to meet the rest at a favorite local restaurant for a late dinner. Everyone laughs and talks about the various minor mistakes made in their songs. The mood is Good. Eventually it gets late and everyone returns to their town and to their homes or to their friend's homes to sleep. I returned home early morning and went to bed thinking "what a night".

Written by Jeremy J Jones

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Santa’s Workshop

Staint was always a easy going elf. He would make the toys for the kids while under the psychedelic drugs that Mrs. Claus fed him in his hot cocoa. But today was different. He awoke feeling a burning sensation on his most private parts. He shook the sleep out of his eyes and removed the heatpack Having already been fed the Psychromosedine-Diamethacilicate by Mrs.Claus at 2:00 that morning, he was ready to make some toys. Walking down the dark corridors in the Claus Concentration Camp he was vaguely reminded of the severe beating Master Santa had oh so graciously given him last year around Christmas time. The "medicine" was starting to kick in and he started to see the blood encrusted stone ground start to shift and melt . He walked down the flight of spiral steps until he reached the sweat/work shop. "Hi Staint, I’ve been looking for you." It was Master Santa. "It seems you and Goohk had a little problem yesterday in wrapping." It was true, Goohk was the hefferish elf that had been plaguing him ever since he was transferred to wrapping by Master Claus. Yesterday him and Goohk were wrapping some Pogs and Goohk walked right up and socked him right in his cox. "So, you know what I have to do now don’t you?" Santa said. "Yes" Staint whined. And assumed the position.

Written by Gabriel L Norman

 

 

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Citrus Heights

 

It's a place where I spent most of my childhood, it had a sort of magnetism to it. Memories of my grandpa, now gone, memories of the hot summer days. Days the sun would just penetrate your soul and make you feel good inside. My relatives were always nearby, always around to play with, as the seasons changed from a colorful Fall to a rainy and cold winter and back to a hot summer. Sometimes the summer would get too hot, so hot you would have to go swimming or dip your head in a bucket of ice water. 116 Degrees was the record I think. When it got like tat people would just sit in their houses with the air conditioner full blast until it was like an igloo of comfort. The place was Citrus Heights, a town in California, small at the time but growing quickly. A picturesque little neighborhood tucked way, not far away from a supermarket or a main road yet it was quiet there. A nice place for kids to live. With grandma living next door it was always good to go over and get a cold glass of grape juice and some food, only how grandma could make it. Us kids always had fun climbing trees or doing whatever kids do when they're young. The place will always be remembered by all who lived there, and the people who still live there will continue to appreciate what ever magic the town has left after all these years.

Written by Jeremy J Jones

 

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Love Hurts

Love hurts sometimes, take me and my girl friend for example, the other day I said,"how was your day my little chicken dumpling?" She replied, "what do you mean my little chicken dumpling?! You think I have chicken legs, no! You think I'm fat don't you?! And then she chucked a big old frying pan at my head, the bruise will go away... And I'm sure my hair will cover most of that dent, love hurts man. Another time she and I were play fighting and she thought I went for a real punch, she moved out of the way, pinned me to the floor and proceeded to deliver one kidney shot after another; It's funny, I didn't spit up any blood this time; Love hurts.

 

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One fateful day in '83

Fluffy was normally a well tempered , well mannered mutt. Joe would take her to the store, to the park, and everywhere he went. Then one day, luffy went off the deep end. I don't know if you've ever seen the movie "alien" with Segorny Weaver, but this dog resembled one of those ferocious flesh eating beasts that fateful autumn day in '83. Fluffy had been taking her daily walk around the block in the ghetto, and like many dogs fluffy was curious about her surroundings. A glistening object at the edge of someone's lawn and the sidewalk caught the half cocker-spaniel half shitsu's eye. Fluffy went to investigate, sniffing the curious semi-jagged glistening object with much interest. Before Joe knew what had happened Fluffy had haste-fully gobbled up the small stone like object. Joe knelt down to see what Fluffy had consumed but it was halfway to the little hairball's stomach by this time. Fluffy gave an innocent look, Joe stood up and didn't think much of what had happened. Both human and mutt resumed their stroll around the block. About ten minutes later, Joe and Fluffy had arrived at the supermarket. Joe was noticing that Fluffy was acting somewhat peculiar; She had an insane look about her, a look like that of somebody who had been up for 52 hours straight and had downed 5 quad shot mochachinos within the span of 15 minutes. The little bitch stared at its master with a cold "exorcist" like stare, started growling ferociously, and bit through its own leash like a rabid beaver gnawing off its own leg after being snagged in a trap, only three times as fast. Fluffy zigged and zagged down the isles of the supermarket at breakneck speeds, like an electron shooting the circuits of a motherboard causing mayhem in her path. You had better have had chain mail on your legs that day if you did not want them to be shredded by this dog like two stalks of celery in a garbage disposal. Fluffy flew straight over to the pet section and targeted a 25 pound of kibbles and bits, she was on that bag like a school of starved piranha on a newborn calf. After finishing that off she moved on to the produce section making quick work of the mixed nuts, tomatoes, and assorted fruits and vegetables. When she was done she looked like George Foreman's face after 38 rounds of boxing. In all the chaos Joe struggled to figure out why Fluffy was going off on the store; he thought hard and remembered their walk only ten minutes earlier; the glistening object... And then it hit him... Fluffy had eaten a crack rock.... The situation was getting out of hand. Thanks to a call from a horrified employee local authorities were on their way, along with several members of the ATF, FBI, and National guard. Fluffy's Spidey sense was alerted and she knew she had precious little time to act. Like a strange hybrid between a kid in a candy store an a crazed woman who had just won a million dollar shopping spree, Fluffy continued to race down the isles. Slicing peoples Achilles tendons like hot butter through a knife. The authorities had arrived; several snipers took positions atop the isles and tried to take aim at the crazed dog. This was almost futile; Trying to take down this dog was like trying to shoot a rocket car attempting the land speed record on some desolate stretch of land in Utah. The supermarket now resembled some sort of whacked circus game, filled with cops all lined up and aiming at this formerly adorable little fur ball of a moving target. This was not like anything these boys had seen at the academy, this was hard-core. Joe pleaded with them to stop and not harm Fluffy, but the damage was done. This incident had become too strange for normal authorities to handle... The F.B.I had to call for reinforcements; it was Special Agents: Moulder and Scully. Fox Moulder swiftly walked through one of the automatic sliding glass doors, analyzed the situation within seconds, targeted the lightning fast hair ball on crack, and unloaded 15 rounds into it faster than you could say, "Would you like paper or plastic sir?" Fluffy, the once playful little mutt turned ferocious wild animal lay motionless on the cold tile floor as the special agents and others in uniform gathered around in awe and disbelief that something this small could cause so much mayhem. Fluffy had now gone to meet it's maker. Alas the terrible scene had come to an abrupt end, an end which many people might agree would make a terrific action sequence in some darkly comedic independent film. Nonetheless it was over. The wounded were taken away and the authorities had moved out. Scully had brought the body of Fluffy to be autopsied and confirmed that the dog had indeed ingested 23 grams of pure crack. There are two morals of this story: One: No matter how cute and cuddly small dogs can seem, Hell can break loose if they get their paws on the right mind bending narcotics. Two: Remember boys and girls... crack kills.