Merry Christmas

I know; it was yesterday, but I was too busy having fun and enjoying our holiday Turkey Dinner with just the two of us, the Diaz Brothers, and a twenty-six pound turkey.

The snow is about a foot deep everywhere, and it doesn’t look like there is any 2022 city budget money left to roust the workers out of their nice warm homes to go shovel snow.

For the best.

Nobody in.

Nobody out.

I hope you are at home with family and are safe and warm. Can’t even imagine people struggling with both.

At least fifty-two (the last time I checked with TV news) people in Buffalo, New York, USA lost their struggles.

How fucked up would it be to be travelling through airports and that situation right now?

Not good.

Get home safe.

And if it takes a little longer than you had planned or would like, just remember, get home safe.

Soon, and you know they are coming, soon will follow the stories of passengers turning all Hans Gruber on the poor airline employees who are thinking Do I really need this shit?

Just once.

I would like to see one of the employees that had maybe done one line too many (they had promised themselves they would absolutely NOT get into that last bindle. It was for something extremely special and extremely important. The problem was they could not recall exactly what was so special or important)

Of course, get real.

If you did a few lines, you needed a libation (or two) to smooth the ride, so the shots and beers followed.

As innocently as forgetting she was carrying the fully loaded thirty-eight handgun in her purse which she carried for protection when she was out alone in the city. It would not be subjected to the typical x-ray scrutiny at the terminals.

Now, the overworked, underappreciated single mother of three has just about reached her own limit with rude assholes acting all entitled and looking at her like she was dirt under their fingernails.

“Hey you stupid bitch! You gave me the wrong seat. Get your stupid ass over here.”

“Now!” He was actually screaming at her with a contorted, crimson face.

The waitress meekly approached him as she dipped her hand into her purse….

Just once…

Hey, check out this little short story illuminating the emotion “Yearning” from my book EMOTIONS! Not your Mama’s ABC’s!

*****

Desire

Cassie entered the room and stopped dead in her tracks. She crossed the floor and approached the beautiful young woman.

“Hi Colleen,” were the only words she could muster as she touched the soft white shoulder of her soon-to-be next girlfriend.

Colleen Chayonne, twenty-three years young and Irish-Canadian, lay on her side motionless. She stirred briefly at Cassie’s touch and returned to her slumber.

They had only known each other for a brief ten days, but Cassie had no doubts the feelings she had for Colleen were real and undeniable. She could only hope that the feelings were mutual and that her irregular breathing was further evidence of that.

 “Colleen, is this a good time?” Cassie touched her again, trying to awaken the object of her intense desire. Colleen remained still.

Cassie leaned in closer…closer…closer….

Colleen had auburn hair, as fine as gossamer, royal blue eyes, and a body that would make Venus green with envy. Smooth skin, soft cheeks, pouty blue lips…….Blue lips.

Cyanosis.

Code Blue!

Cassie started pounding Colleen’s chest in an attempt to resuscitate her patient. She alternately forced air into Colleen’s lungs, and performed compressions, finally giving up on CPR and reaching for the defibrillation paddles.

“Paddles!” Cassie shouted.

“Clear!”

The alternating current of the defib attempt caused Colleen’s body to lift and convulse, then settle back down on the hospital bed.

“Again. Clear!” Cassie looked to the heart monitor and the flatline returned. “Clear!” Cassie shouted in vain sending another high-voltage current through Colleen.

The ICU nurse lightly touched Cassie’s shoulder. “She’s gone, doctor,” was all she offered as the monotone was respectfully terminated.

Dr. Cassandra Butler slumped over the lifeless body of Colleen Chayonne.

“Time of death 8:12 am,” Cassie proclaimed as she exited the room.

Sometimes I really hate this fucking job the doctor thought.

******

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: