Ten minutes to paradise

They called it the ten-minute charade.

She’d pretend to be his love.

He’d strut around with her 

draped on his arms.

She’d smile and look lovely.

His friends and colleagues would gaze on with forlorn

I Need 5 Minutes Alone

I Need 5 Minutes Alone (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

envy.

Ten minutes to paradise.

Ten minutes of glory.

Ten minutes of rubbing it in their faces.

Ten minutes of nothing, really.

A Matter of Minutes

A Matter of Minutes (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Linus Fernandes.

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Trio no. 4: Deadly morning

Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must include a speeding car, a phone call, and a crisp, bright morning. (Wildcard: you can swap any of the above for a good joke.)


It was a crisp, bright morning.

He was driving to work.

The phone rang.

He picked up and thus began his nightmare.

It was his estranged wife,

ringing about the divorce papers.

His blood pressure soared.

He did not need this.

Not the first thing in the day.

He began to filibuster.

She cut him short.

He thought he’d stop the car,

Hit the brakes and becalm the love of his life.

He pressed down on  the accelerator instead.

Linus Fernandes.

Opening Lines: Toledo Hangover

What’s the first line of the last song you listened to (on the radio, on your music player, or anywhere else)? Use it as the first sentence of your post.
Warning: The following verses may offend your tummy. Secondly, I have been in too few bars and never been drunk in any. Also, Toledo is in Ohio, a Midwestern state.
 


Line art representation of an Sombrero

Line art representation of an Sombrero (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In a bar in Toledo

 

Was a bartender in a sombrero

 

On a bar stool with a red string

 

I walked on over, I walked in closer,

 

Sat down and asked for a drink.

 

When the drinks finally hit me,

 

I asked for another, “Hit me with plenty.”

 

And the bartender kept serving up the themes.

 

I went crazy with laughter and kept throwing up after,

 


I brought it up all over his apron strings.

 

In the mirror I saw the patrons flinch,

 

I thought I’m so out of place.

 

Until I saw the board above me,

 

“We charge extra to clean up vomit and faeces.”

 

Leaving the bar was like climbing a mountain,

 

I kept wishing I were dead.

 

And all the while I was shaking

 

I turned to the bartender and said.

 

I picked a fine place to be drunk

 

Come twice already and the third’s no charm.

 

I’ve had some bad ones, I’ve had some sad ones,

 

But for now this splitting head won’t heal,

 

I sure picked a fine place to be drunk.

 

The bartender was kind, he sure didn’t mind,

 

He grabbed me by the arm, his shoulder around mine,

 

He said,” There’s a hotel nearby,

 

We’ll get you a room there,

 

Don’t you think we Southerners don’t care.”

 

And so we walked on without talking at all.

 

He was no heavy but he was strong,

 

And he did me no wrong.

 

And as he checked me in into a room with a view,

 

All I could do is doodle doo.

 

I picked a fine place to be drunk

 

Come twice already and the third’s no charm.

 

I’ve had some bad ones, I’ve had some sad ones,

 

But for now this splitting head won’t heal,

 

I sure picked a fine place to be drunk.

 

~Linus Fernandes