Don't know what the original color of the trailer was: today it is rust. "Bar food" when you are on the Texas side of the Lousiana border in a certain type of dive is deep fried quail you have to pick the buckshot out of and "hoppin chickin" (deep fried breaded frogs legs). The drinks? Lone Star, Budweiser, home-made wine bought from Cajun Joe down the road, the owners home brew if you dare. Locals come for the gossip and music. Tourists come because they've taken a wrong turn somewhere along the road.
She's terse. I can be terse. Once in flight school, I was laconic.
Wash ,'War Stories'
The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Typo Boy - Sep 07, 2008 5:30:05 pm PDT #880 of 6681
Calli: My people have a saying. A man who trusts can never be betrayed, only mistaken.Avon: Life expectancy among your people must be extremely short.
Lee - Sep 07, 2008 5:31:57 pm PDT #881 of 6681
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.
I still kinda like it. Is recycling allowed?
Don't see why not.
dcp - Sep 07, 2008 5:59:23 pm PDT #882 of 6681
The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.
Beverly - Sep 07, 2008 6:36:50 pm PDT #883 of 6681
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Oh, nice dcp, despite the recycling.
His office was in the basement, cinderblock walls painted shiny urine yellow, slick vinyl tile over uneven concrete floors. A wire hanger leftover from winter’s overcoat dangled from an overhead pipe. She was here to discuss her class load and her benefits, and despite the oppressive atmosphere, the battleship desk and the institutional chairs, he seemed knowlegeable and interested in her courses. They were chatting, relaxed, when they heard it, sharp and distinct: ping! They exchanged a glance, and continued talking. ping! Another glance, and a waiting silence. ping! With innocent eyes and a straight face he ordered, “Dive! Dive!”
Beverly - Sep 07, 2008 8:01:47 pm PDT #884 of 6681
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Dude. Talk about killing the thread. I'm sorry, 'kay? I'll try not to do it again.
Burrell - Sep 07, 2008 8:07:25 pm PDT #885 of 6681
Why did Darth Vader cross the road? To get to the Dark Side!
It's not you Beverly, b.org is just on snooze tonight.
SailAweigh - Sep 07, 2008 9:22:03 pm PDT #886 of 6681
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
I was silent, Bev, because I was trying not to snort pudding out my nose.
Beverly - Sep 07, 2008 9:35:21 pm PDT #887 of 6681
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
\\o/
SailAweigh - Sep 07, 2008 10:23:58 pm PDT #888 of 6681
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Beggars Can't Be Choosers
After shifting the burger bag to one hand and another smile at her benefactor, she leaned down and picked up her tip jar. Turning left, she started towards the flop in a walk/jog. The scent of warm burgers was making her mouth water; she had to get back fast.
It took her 10 minutes. She'd stuffed the donated bag inside her coat to preserve its heat. Cold food was a beggar's lot, but she didn't like to think of herself as a beggar. Beggars didn't have obligations.
Inside, she broke a burger into pieces. Coaxed him over. "Dive in, pooch."
Beverly - Sep 08, 2008 6:11:07 am PDT #889 of 6681
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Awww. Very sweet, Sail. How much do I love the penguin cookie jar drabbles? Thiiiiis much. And now she has a dog!