Monday, February 23, 2009

just another day...

GL glares at her five timid tormentors all standing before her, hanging their heads in pretentious shame, not wanting to risk their survival. They'd gently try to reason their presence and beg GL to let them stay.

The first to have GL's attention is Backache. He's a veteran. She checks her journal entry against his name.

GL(spewing venom): And just how long are you planning to overstay, Mr.Backache?
Backache(sounding very sad): You are taking yoga classes to make sure you don't ever see me again, GL. You don't have to hate me so much.
GL(indifferently): oh. ok.

Turns her attention to her next timid tormentor.
GL: And you, Miss Candidiasis? Weren't you supposed to be gone after the last trip to the doctor?
Headache(interrupts): miss candid what?
GL(irritated): Candid-dia-sis. That's her name.
Headache listens carefully and makes a note. He's the youngest of the five and is very interested in the others. He's the intelligent one - always asking questions and making mental notes and looking up on the internet for more.

GL talks to all of them, and expresses her displeasure and disgust and frustration with them. PainfulWrists loves GL and can't bear to see her in pain.

PainfulWrists(on an impulse): GL, I will go away this weekend, I promise.
GL's taken by surprise.
PainfulWrists: Promise me that you will not use your keyboard for 2 days straight each week.
GL(thoughtfully): I promise.

Backache(ruefully): I will go away in a few days too, GL.
Headache: Me too. You are fun, GL, but I am short-lived. So long.
Candidiasis: Me too. I only wanted to see you one last time. Bye, GL.
Obesity: I will stay for a while, GL. I can't go away the way these guys do. But I will go in a few months, I promise.
GL nods and thanks them all.

"We love you, GL" they all chorus rather sadly.

* Three Word Wednesday prompts: candid, impulse, risk

Sunday, February 15, 2009


GL looked at the two white-heads again, who were pleading for their lives. The two had just fallen in love when this misfortune befell them. But GL felt nothing. She did not feel sorry for them. It was not her fault that they were getting culled.

All she ever wanted to do right now was to kill everybody around. Only then she would find peace. Bloodshed was her calling. She chose a knife from her array of Cartini's. A soft-edged, almost like a butter-knife, would be good enough. They had hard skulls, these folks, but a sharper stronger knife wouldn't do much good. The white boy was to go first. The white girl turned away and flung herself to the ground in despair.

Tap tap tap taptappp tap. His skull was broken. The inconsolable white girl's fate followed his. GL's butchery united them in their deaths. The knife was washed clean. GL then picked the bigger, serrated knife. It had a comfortable grip and it's weight in her hand felt good. The glint on the knife made GL smile. This was one knife GL was proud of. It was the best among knives, the way GL was the best among her kind.

It was the brownboy's turn now. He was stoic. He didn't seem afraid and held his head high. He had watched the white-heads go. He looked squarely into GL's eye as she neared him. GL was quick with him.

The saucepan was greased and ready and within minutes, GL was rewarded with four slices of French toast - warm, welcoming and with an appetising aroma.

two white heads: two eggs
brownboy: bread

* Weekend Wordsmith prompt 87: reward