gray fox eats brown hen
including the chicken fat
my mom skims it off

for The Twiglets


my brother came home from college
he got into it with our dad
he called dad unctuous
dad used a lot of short words
instead of one single long one

for Ragtag Daily Prompt


wildlife moves though woods
once nature’s sanctuary now
shooting gallery

for Word of the Day Challenge

My Plot

https://morguefile.com/creative/GaborfromHungary/1/all 4c4928a285b4288e16e0ca39cda46911

At the age of eighteen, I was given a wife, farming tools, a hut, and a plot of land equal to that of all the others.

I was given a choice of bok choy, amaranth, water spinach, or Napa cabbage to grow. I chose water spinach.

My plot was a success, year after year. I learned much from the old man keeping the plot to my left and the younger man keeping the plot ahead of me.

I did not like the man keeping the plot to my right. He grew amaranth. Its leaves are healthy but its blooms irritated my nose and throat. I called it pigweed.

I asked him to choose a different vegetable. He laughed at this. He had no respect for my crops. He had no respect for my skills as a farmer.

This man was too familiar with my wife. I quarreled with her, disturbing the peace of our home. I quarreled with him, disturbing the peace of my plot.

When my son became eighteen, he was given my plot because my back no longer allowed me to use my hoe effectively. My son ripped up the water spinach and planted amaranth.

for Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner


experience and
instinct are truth in the woods
men believe anything

for Mid-Week Motif


The USS Bronson departed the solar system on the first Wednesday in October, carrying 420 tons of prime marijuana for trade on the rim. Its wormhole jumps were automated.

By the first jump, the crew, consisting of Oscar Slama, was baked. He sat in the captain’s chair with a bowl of chips in his lap.

In front of him, he appeared.

“Wha…?” he said.

“Don’t freak out,” Oscar 4-6 said. “I’m just more you, in the fourth, fifth, and sixth dimensions.”

“Whoa,” Oscar said.

“Got a light?” asked Oscar 4-6.

After a second wormhole jump, as the ship navigated n-space on its trip to the rim planets, Oscar 7-9 joined the others, who, using a bong, were now ozzy. He immediately commenced baking brownies, a smoking blunt held between his clenched teeth.

Croned, the three talked about the meaning of life with others who joined them subsequently.

“It definitely has something to do with this yup yup,” Oscar 64-66 said.

“Dude, it’s like … like … life,” Oscar 90-92 said.

“Having trouble finishing my sentenc… ” Oscar said. Oscar 99-101 refilled his bowl with organic, unsalted puffed peas.

“How many are me?” Oscar said. “I mean, how many of dimensions of me are they …?”

“Infinite,” said Oscar 19948892…

More wormholes, more dank. Infinitely more Oscars, steetched.

“Let’s all squeeze in together,” Oscar said. “Dudes, I am so fazed …”

“Dude, not out here in n-space. You got to stay spread out in n-space.”

“No, squeeze in,” Oscar said with the frown of the chonged.

They burned the crops. They squeezed in, all infinity of them.

The ship flew on, empty of Oscars and budda.

The Oscars looked around.

“Where are we?” they asked themself.

“In this universe, we’re God,” said the part of Him most lit.

“Dude!” they said.

for Microcosms

Take Ten

The actors relax while we make alterations to the set. Smoking, playing Zheng Shangyou – Struggling Upstream. Gambling on the results. Indifferent to the number of takes I require.

Once again I promise myself, no more smoking in my movies. I might as well start again myself.

Another promise. Make a movie or two at home for a change. This thing … this habit … of setting each new film in another country is … I’m surrounded by local crews who don’t speak my language. I need something I’m not getting. I think I’m lonely. No more paid sex. It makes everything worse.

Another promise. Ease off the cocaine – but cold turkey is out of the question. Does it help or hurt to be this busy? Helps, absolutely. Hardly time to do a line, even in a country up to its nose in blow.

And we’re ready to go.

for MenageMonday Challenge