I opened the door. Outside, it was cold. I was a bit tight.
[I thought about it, and realised that I wanted a Pepsi. "Wanted" was the wrong word; I needed it. The cold matched my mood. Bleak. Self-absorbed. This stuff? Tricky. I tilted my head back, tipping the cold wet brownness that was my personal choice of caffeine down my throat, feeling it tickle my tonsils. This was a bad day. Cold. I couldn't seem to get a handle on all the bad things I'd done today, the crimes I'd committed, the feeling that everyone and everything in the universe was in some way affected by my tiniest decision, I mean every decision. The shade of my underwear. Cream in my coffee. Sugar.]
Should I send it to the copy desk Deb? Give her an Episode?
Heh. erika, at her age, she doesn't have episodes. She lets it go in most things, providing it isn't overused.
What's not a body part, you know? My eyes are much more expressive than my pencil.
See, I have no idea whether my eyes are expressive or not...
Don't make me use the word effulgent in something long and twisted, folks. Just--don't. Subject-verb is your friend!
You realise, between me and Teppy, we've got the beginnings of a perfect candidate for our very own Bulwer-Lytton contest?
I mean, really. Overwritten, underwritten, pretentious....
TEP! Can we have a weekly challenge for "really really really shitty fiction" please?
Crime Fiction has its own special sins. Some cop's dinner is always getting puked in the gutter. They always hover over the nubile female vic all "What a waste."The Serial Killer italic flashback. Don't hold my fingers over the stove, Mommy. But Mommy always did. To purify Roger's flesh. Roger hated Mommy
See, I have no idea whether my eyes are expressive or not...
I can't imagine that they're not. I only know you online and the phone, but it seems to be you are an expression delivery mechanism. I meant that in the best way. There's a particular life to you--a vividness that manages to come across, even at a distance. I suspect that in person, you could kindle a fire with a glance.
How do people make expressions, if not with their eyes? That's jackass. (She said, rolling her expressive eyeballs....)
rolling her expressive eyeballs....
Come on, 7! Baby needs shoes!
It's funny cause it's true, Robin. Sadly. It's getting so I never want to read *anything* about that, between the dime-store psych and overused Catholic iconography...it's still weird to think "Bor-ring." at a time like that, though.
But I'm picky now and less likely to accept airport paperbacks than I was BDS(Before David Simon)
