Woohoo for Allyson and Barb, and the clearly awesome Agent Kate!

For the polish challenge:

Having him paint her fingernails seemed like an incredible intimacy, even after all their time together. But with her hand in a splint, she didn’t have much choice. He seemed excited by it, too, as if he’d gotten a new coloring book, although he wrinkled his nose at the harsh chemical odor.She had to admit that his artist’s hands were pretty steady, although he still picked his favorite fire-engine red polish, instead of the more conference-friendly buff. “Wow,” she teased, “why so bright? It’s a conference, not Las Vegas.”

“You have beautiful hands,” he insisted. “Why hide them?’

nice, erika

Thanks. I don't really know who these people are; they just popped into my head.

That's gorgeous, erika. Very vivid.

Another nightmare - could not tie it to challenge, and anyway not a drabble. But I think it is worth sharing:

ch-ch-changes

They call it the archetype disease. A virus, and living proof that magic is real, all rolled into one. Whatever is at your core, most important to your self takes over. The town smartass turns into Harlequin, complete with costume and a grin bigger than his face. Forget goldfish; he swallows SUVs. Mind you it is not limited to classic themes. Sue, wit and bon vivant, is now The Flirt. A real man-eater, she killed 15 before they caught her. And 20 after. (She keeps getting out of jail - just slips out of the restraints, and crawls through the keyholes.)

A lot of the time we can't figure out what archetype someone has turned into. But we've learned that if a swirl of light is floating down the street, or a vaguely person-shaped puff of brightly colored smoke is sitting at the bus top, get the hell away from there quickly.

And there is no such thing as a harmless or benign archetype. Rainbow Brite chokes any non-virgin it runs into to death on sugar lumps. Tinker Belle will make you sorry if you have ever, for a single moment, failed to believe in fairies.

What it comes down to is that the archetype disease purifies you, makes you just one thing and nothing else. And it turns out that pure anything is deadly insanity.

Oh, that's cool.

And it turns out that pure anything is deadly insanity.

Really love this, to bits. Good one, Typo.

Thanks Sail and Deena. I like it though I'm not quite sure I truly conveyed the psychedelic eldritch feel of the dream.

Typo, I love the way you write. It reminds me a little of Zelazny, and I mean that as a huge compliment.

Sorry I've been lax on the challenges, but this one popped into my head - don't know why.

The First

It had taken me months to finally talk to the bus stop man - to Leonard Fitzroy Cooper - such a delectable name. Leonard was delighted to have the conversation. So many just ignored him and his delicious cardboard sign. Although I was too embarrassed to accept his shoe shine offer, I listened and savored his many stories.

It took three invitations before Leonard brought his sign upstairs. I wonder if he knew I didn’t need the “will work” part. Don’t worry - he felt no pain. As you well know, I enjoyed all my first meals post-mortem.