It's a special book written by a man that can do that, but they are out there. Just don't tell me what Women *really* want.

So, how does a man speak to you? Is the communication barrier molecular?

How does he speak to me? That's the wrong question, bro. I'm not responsible for how he speaks to me, and I don't get to dictate that. Hell, I don't even try to define it.

What I handle is my interpretation. And that's molecular, in the sense that, for me, it's pure instinct.

Look! It's a new drabble topic! And it's on time!!! (Try not to faint from the shock.)

Challenge #102 (summer jobs) is now closed. It yielded some GREAT drabbles, folks. I love reading them.

Challenge #103 is this: In the back of your closet is a box. What's in the box? Now. As always, you may interpret this however you wish, whether extremely literally, or extremely metaphorically. However, I'd love it if the drabbles leaned more toward the literal side -- like, "Far in the back of my coat closet is a shoebox with every one of the corsages my dates gave me before high-school dances. I don't know why I save them; more to the point, I don't know why I feel the need to keep them a secret from my husband." Like that.

Also as always, these don't have to be autobiographical/based in reality/true. They can be fictional (my little snippet above certainly was; I have no 15-year-old dried corsages lurking in a closet, and I also don't have a husband to hide them from). Just a little reminder. I know that all y'all know that the drabbles can be fiction, but I just thought I'd mention it before someone posts a comment saying "All the boxes in my closets have in them are blankets -- what am I supposed to write about that?!?" Make it up. Tell us about the human skull in your guest-bedroom closet.

Um, unless you really DO have a human skull in your guest-bedroom closet. Then make up something about blankets, okay?

Um, unless you really DO have a human skull in your guest-bedroom closet. Then make up something about blankets, okay?

Bwah!

If I must.

See? There's always a person who's the reason for disclaimers....

(lawyers up)

Damn, Teppy. That request, to keep it literal, just kicked my legs out from under me. I don't keep those literal things in closets; they're in drawers.

Damn, Teppy. That request, to keep it literal, just kicked my legs out from under me.

But first I said that it can be uber-literal, or uber-metaphorical. Or anywhere in between. If you have stuff in a box, and it's in a drawer instead of a closet, by all means, go with that.

Hotay. See, in our house, if I put it in a closet, it's going to be doomed, because the cats will get to it.

Hotay. See, in our house, if I put it in a closet, it's going to be doomed, because the cats will get to it.

Heh. That fact alone would make for a funny, funny drabble. IJS.

t edit

I started it as a lark, but okay -- consider this a drabble from me. Man, I haven't written one in a long, LONG time!

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Salad Days

I wasn't trying to hide my old Prom corsages from my husband; I would have shown them to him so we could both get a laugh out of the dead flowers that meant everything to me as a 16-year-old.

The thing is, the corsages were in a shoebox in the hall closet, which is where the cats go when they're in the mood for adventure. The last I saw of my corsages was when Fang, the fat tabby, and Whappo, the Siamese, made a meal of the flowers from Prom 1985-1987, inclusive.