Rosie wrung her hands and began reaching before forcing a stop. She leaned back with a hint of a smile. Her cheeks bloomed red.
The game was simple. Everyone writes their wildest fantasies, pops ’em into the jar, and shakes ’em up. Then the “fun” starts. The fun was figuring out who matched what fantasy, one at a time, until they were all found out.
Rosie glanced at Ken. He smiled wide in return, a knowing twinkle in his eye.
This somehow calmed her.
“Everyone ready?” Barb asked before emptying her wine. “Time to play.”
Randy woke as the thunder crashed to find himself strapped to the cold concrete of the mausoleum. He wished he could rub his aching back. Or just stretch, but rough rope cut into both wrist and ankle. A scream squeaked past strained vocal chords and trembling lips.
The gathered didn’t notice his struggles, their glazed eyes stared into the distance from within deep hoods.
Eyes he knew. These people bought his goats.
A smiling, dagger toting man approached the mausoleum.
If we were having coffee, we would be listening to The Wallflowers while enjoying our beverages of hot and cold. I’d be having cold coffee, hold the ice, with a nice spoonful of honey to add a bit of sweet. The honey is good local stuff I get from a guy at work. It’s sat around long enough that it’s gone solid, so we can scoop out what we want without making a mess. You should try it! You could even put some in hot coffee or tea if you’d prefer that. The honey will most definitely dissolve better in the hot stuff.
It’s that time of year that I would wish you a Merry Christmas. But I could also wish you a Happy Hanukkah, a Merry something else, or just a Happy Holidays if you’d prefer. We do Christmas here, so that’s where my mind goes. Continue reading “#WeekendCoffeeShare – We Wish You…”→
Adam swiped at the buzzing clock before wiping a hand across his face. It was too early, as always, but especially after last night. The night’s activity didn’t diminish the day’s responsibilities however, so he rolled out of bed.
Memories of the night flashed through his mind as he dressed. Had they really been swimming in December? Naked?
Please no pictures.
He smiled and poured coffee in a large cup. Tales of last night would show up at work. Grown men were the worst gossips after all.
He’d know what happened soon enough, if he could only find his boots.
If we were having coffee, I’d be having cider. Yes, again this week. To be fair, I’ve been drinking coffee all day, so maybe it’s time for a change. The pot is there, ready to brew the morning’s coffee and can be turned on if you’d like.
The fights are on TV. From all the talk, this may be the last UFC card on Fox. Since I don’t keep close track of all that, I Googled and found that the UFC is moving over to ESPN. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe not. I’ll wait and see. Continue reading “#WeekendCoffeeShare – UFC Moving?”→
So this is retirement, Frank thought., his tools scattered before him.
He had dreamed of retirement for years and all the things that he would no longer have to do once that time came. Banish early mornings and the workday for starters. Retirement meant relaxing, or so he thought. But here he was, up since the crack of dawn, working on this… thing. And when this is done, there’ll be another thing waiting.
Who knew honey-do lists grew at the speed of light?
“I’ll never catch up,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to go back to work to rest from retirement.”