The pint glasses clink.

The shot glasses are slammed on the table.

Dance a jig-

Hug a stranger-

But beware of a green tongue.


You Know …


I really should focus on keeping it in my head instead of blurting things out loud from my cubicle.

I should also probably stop giving everyone I come across a nickname…. and creating an elaborate inappropriate backstories…

I should and I could but let’s be honest I won’t 😉

I Turn Everyone Into A Character

ThoughtsIt is hard to explain what my desk job is but I can tell you that it revolves around customer service. Lately I have decided that each person I help has a secret story the world should know. These are not sick and twisted stories that should really remain hidden from the world, no my imagination runs in the opposite direction.

His Story

My latest fascination, his name will remain anonymous but his secret is destined to be shared. He is a man of means and importance, if you give him a moment he would be happy to tell you the many reasons why this is so. My friend, we shall call him Prince E has opulent taste, he reminds me of the man with the tiny giraffe and the golden remote control.

In fact I am quite certain if it was possible to own a tiny giraffe he would have two because one would not do. Sometime ago, I am not sure when it happened I discovered his secret….he has all of the hidden treasures of the world under his lock and key.

It seems that my destiny was sealed, a crusade of my own was coming…


Wondering in the Dark

When the sun begins its descent in the western sky, things begin the change. The further it disappears behind the Rocky Mountains the more active my imagination becomes. Days, months, even years have been spent in this same place. At night familiarity is useless.

The beauty of the mid-summer flowers gives way to the eery crackling of the branches in the wind. In the moment after sunset and before the lights click on the yard comes to life.

The gate is unlocked. Someone has to make the journey to secure it before we all venture into bed. It is only ten feet but something about it doesn’t seem right.

Step by step the pebbles push hard into my foot. My senses are at their peak. I see it out of the corner of my eye. A strange man is staring at me from behind the creeping vine.

A scream escapes me.

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The Easter Island statue has not been moved in over 15 years and he gets me every time.