Across the Linoleum Floor:
My life working in a senior-psychiatric ward doesn’t have its ups and downs- only the queer and funny. Yesterday, Old Jones was insisting he had invented kitty litter. Currently, two wheelchair-bound ladies are having a fight over whose dentures look more feminine. Like I said, only the queer and funny.
Look Sharp:
“Hello there,” said Tasha casually as she walked past. Her. Outcast Shelia. ‘How can she eat so much and look so skinny? How can she wear dirty, crumpled clothes but look amazing?’ she thought. Looking at Tasha laughing, Shelia was definitely envious. ‘And how come her teeth are always sharp?’
The Last Laugh:
Whistling, Jerry shovels the last piles of dirt into the freshly dug grave. Victim Number 31 and FBI still didn’t know. He starts to make his way home but freezes. In the dark, a pair of eyes are staring back at him. Smirking, he thinks to himself; ‘Victim Number 32?’
Mad World:
Peanut butter jelly sandwich, Reese’s peanut butter cups, peanut soup, buttered bread– his world swirling in peanut butter . Which level in Primary school he’s in – P-Nut. He gives a weak smile; peanut butter aching to stick at the roof of his mouth. Time to fix the Peanut Butter fix.
Give Me More:
The lights are too glaring. Click. Her outfit is too itchy. Ringing ears and tingling arms. “Give me sultry!” yells the photographer. Click. Bree doesn’t bother moving. “Excellent! Give me wrath! Envy! Give me indifference!” Click. ‘Maybe I should give you a slap in the face,’ thinks Bree bitterly. Click.
