This is sort of the literary equivalent of going to bed in your boyfriend's shirt, I suppose. These are George's people, not mine, except the offscreen Miss Nadine

Terry Quinn hadn’t huffed and puffed this hard since he and Juana said “Adios.” Despite the fact that Strange had years on him, only a faint sheen of sweat showed that this was anything but a friendly jaunt through Rock Creek Park.

”Fuck,” Quinn said. “I’m too old for this shit.”
Strange slowed up, but he gave his friend a reproachful look.

“What?” Quinn snapped. “I gave myself the Danny Glover line.”

“Yeah,” Strange said, “And a finer cliche has never been spoken, man. Seriously. But you’re falling apart, and it makes me sad to see it. What did you think you were gonna do? Snark that purse thief to death?”

Terry stopped, wiped his brow, and hoped his heart would stop hammering soon. “Just for that, you don’t get to give the eulogy...Miss Nadine is my neighbor, and a real class act. She’s also...”

“Blacker than me. And that boy you shot.”

“Yeah... so?” It was just like they said in high school. Play through the pain, and everything would be fine.

“So, do you think one more white boy with a heart attack is gonna equalize hundreds of years of racial oppression? Cause Miss Nadine told you herself there wasn’t but thirty dollars in that old purse anyway.”

“If I could, I would, Derek. You know that.”

“Yeah.” Strange replied. “I know it.”

“ I guess I did make an idiot out of myself today...”

”Just let me know,next time you wanna play White Avenger. I’ll have Janine make you a little cape.”

“Fuck you, Strange.”

And, just as Strange predicted, Terry Quinn made his way out of the park without even breathing hard.

Hey, I just saw Kristen's piece on her student letters in my new English Journal!

I was all "Hey, I totally know her! I've read that!"

woo and hoo, on the actual publication of your piece!

Priorities

"Shit!"

Not sure which cat brought it indoors. I suspect Tekla; Pig hunts exclusively things with fur, and Fluff just sits around being Persian. My Siamese? She hunts, and catches, and usually kills and eats.

"Gordon Bennett!"

The damned thing circles, just under the skylight. It's magnificent, if you like bats. I do, but not indoors; N's afraid of them.

I take the wrought-iron stairs, fast. "Um, honey? Little help?!?"

Crash! Pig. He's jumped after it; now he's yowling, maybe in pain.

I'm left in a cloud of dust as N passes me. After all, that's his cat that yelled.

drabble

I saw you today. And not ten minutes before, I was thinking, "Hey, I think I'm finally getting over it."

I'm not.

We used to travel together, until the day you turned to me and said, "No, I can't bear to be around you anymore."

Thing is, we still run in the same circles. Of course we'll intersect. But I'm no longer allowed to be the person who ran at your side.

When I see you, do you see me? Or do you keep your eyes in front of you, intent on the trail that I can't travel anymore?

Susie Bright suggested in passing that someone needs to write a new version of "Ransom of Red Chief" where an identity theft proves to be way more trouble than it is worth. I pass it along in case it sparks anything worthwhile for anyone.

X-posted with Natter:

I just submitted this to Reader's Digest for "All In A Day's Work":

I work for a building management company and I process all of the utility bills for our retail stores. One in particular kept giving me grief because each month, the bill was significantly less than the month prior. I called the utility company to ask if we could have a new meter read and they asked what the name of the store was. I looked down at all of my bills – Weight Watchers.

That's awesome, Aimee -- what's the prize now?

$300.

*shrug* It's true and it's funny. I should get it.

Hell, RD should Buffdive on a monthly basis and put the cash toward our F2F's and server maintenance!

Dude, three hundred dollars?!?! I'm totally writing down funny shit from now on.

And you should totally get it.