RIP King of Pop

Pop!
This is just another incarnation.
You'll always wear the crown
and the famous white glove
so you could hold the world in your hand
and change its colour.
Be as young
as you want to be
in your Neverland
cause this is Thriller,
Thriller Night...

RIP Everyone's Favourite Angel

In my 1970's school yard, we used to act out "Charlie's Angels" during recess. Being a short-haired brunette, I was always, by default, chosen to be Kate Jackson's character, Sabrina Duncan. My best friend who had the long blond hair always got to play Farrah Fawcett's character, Jill Munroe. Each recess came and went and I never gave up hoping that one day I would be able to play Farrah Fawcett's character. It never happened and my resentment towards my best friend and towards the boy who played Bosley and who only chased after her secretly grew. I was barely seven years old and already learning that the world would treat me differently for not looking like the favourite Angel.

Thirty something years later, wiser and still, thankfully, a brunette, I still wonder what it would have been like to play Jill, if even for just a day.

Battling the Queen B

I had to kill it! A queen bee flew into my car unnoticed when my doors were open and managed to stay hidden until it started buzzing around my dashboard like a queen bitch. My baby girl was in the back and my killer mother instincts took over. There was no time to think this over. The bee needed to make an exit fast or I was going to squish it to oblivion. I tried to save its life by rolling down all the windows and shooing it away, but it fought back with its menacing buzzing, crashing into my dashboard in retaliation. My last whack sent it flying into my lap and I when I jumped up, it landed near my left foot -- still fuckin' alive --, so I attempted to crush it with my heal as I kept one eye on it and the other on the road. And, today of all days, all of my traffic lights were green so it took me a good 5 minutes before I could pull over and kill this thing once and for all.

When I finally pulled over and got out of the car, it was still moving around despite having lost pieces of its busy body by my foot crushing! I grabbed a wad of tissues, picked it up, throw it to the ground and stepped on it for a good 20 seconds. And, it was STILL moving!!! It left me with no other choice. I had to resort to jumping on it, much to the amusement of my daughter and the shoppers exiting the store near where I parked.

Jumping on it finally did it in. And, there is no way in hell that the sucker will rest in peace. It'll probably come back and sting me in some other way.

The Grim Scensters

They normally roam the streets on their own because it's better for business, but sometimes, you'll find them lined up with engines revving where traffic infractions, car collisions and untimely deaths occur on roads and then they'll race against each other to win the grim work. On a good day, they'll run out of gas driving back and forth from no parking zones to accident hell, but they'll rarely call it quits or go home to eat because they stay awake and alive feeding on the misfortune of others. Don't ever think that they're "really" helping you out. Don't even think you can hide from them. They watch you all the time. They'll find you anywhere and take you away as many times as is required and leave you with a hefty bill every time.

Rain or Shine Man

Every day, rain or shine, he'd be perched at the same spot wearing the same smelly clothes and shoes that didn't have much longer to go until the sole peeled off completely. You could see through the bald patches of his beard that his skin was darkened by the dirt and sun. His unruly hair hadn't been washed for months and there was enough dirt under his fingertips to plant potatoes. If you happened to catch his eye, you'd see past his outer filth and heaven forbid be drawn to his beautiful inside. He'd always have a smile waiting for you and and would send you off with a blessing if you stopped to chat or dropped off money or food. He'd tell tall tales to anybody who'd listen and tell you the same stories again tomorrow. For the most part, he was just homeless to the majority of people who walked past him. He didn't care for them. He used to be just like them. Had it not been for the handful of people for whom he was the familiar, a nameless and ageless kindred spirit to greet on the way to work and back home, nobody would have ever known that he was long gone.

Happy Birthday and beyond...

Today is my dad's birthday. He died 23 years ago and as I walked to his grave with flowers in my hands, I noticed birthday cards and pictures taped to other tombstones nearby feeling somewhat guilty for not marking this special occasion more. But, knowing my father, he'd probably haunt me in my dreams tonight if I left one of those annoying musical birthday cards behind. See, Dad? You still make me smile! Happy Birthday and beyond...

At a Loss for Words

Mrs. Adams husband died 12 years ago and every year on their wedding anniversary, her cousin Eva sends Mrs. Adams an anniversary card. Mrs. Adams has never thanked her cousin Eva for the cards.

***

To kill time before a job interview, Sydney walks into a Hallmark store and spots a new section of cards under the category of "Loss" for miscarriages. She reads it, buys one for her friend and never sends it.

***

When Darcy finds out that an old high school friend is battling breast cancer, she feels awkward calling her because they haven't spoken in years. She decides to write her a letter instead, but keeps forgetting to post it in the mail. Finally, after a week of carrying the unsent letter, she mails it and feels a sense of peace. A few days pass when Darcy receives a call from her friend's husband who informs her that her friend passed away a week ago.