smoking

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grown-Up Children

Linda Vernon Linda's Bedtime Stories for Grown-up Children , , , , , , ,

Randall

Randall the white owl

Nobody knew about Randall. He came in the night.

Rhonda listened for her husband’s deep breathing and when she heard the familiar rhythm she slipped out of bed, carefully slid open the door and crept onto the balcony.

Tonight was clear and still with air so crisp you could almost smell the stars. Randall was perched on the railing in his usual spot waiting for her and  staring straight ahead with his secretive eyes.

Rhonda reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a cigarette, stuck it between her lips, lit it and inhaled suddenly like a newborn taking its first breath.

“You ought to quit,” Randall said.

“Mind your own business, you dirty owl.” Rhonda snapped. Rhonda hated it when Randall complained about her smoking.   She hated a lot of things about Randall — especially the fact that he was slowly convincing her to murder her husband.

“He’s the reason you’re always having panic attacks.  Having to go to the hospital.  Not being able to breath.” Randall raised his wings and fluffed his white feathers loudly. “You’d be better off without him.”

“Who?”

“Who.   That’s my line.” Randall blinked. Then focused his gaze into Rhonda’s soul. “Don’t be obtuse.”

“I can’t do it!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a murderer!”

“Sure you are. You just need to get in touch with your inner murderer. Everybody’s got one. Given a certain set of circumstances, enough rage and a fortuitous blunt instrument, that is.

“You nasty snake eater! Just looking at you makes me want to take a shower!” Rhonda flicked a long ash off the end of her cigarette and aimlessly smeared it around with the toe of her slipper. “If I listen to you, I’ll end up on death row! You’re the one I should kill.”

“Ha! What’d I tell you? See how easy it is to get in touch with your inner murderer? It won’t be long now. I’ll bet you already got a gun. Maybe you stole one.”

Rhonda drew deeply on her cigarette then coughed out a harsh, smoky laugh.“Let’s just say I was able to get in touch with my inner thief.”

Someone was jiggling the balcony door. Randall took flight just before Rhonda’s husband stepped out onto the balcony.

“What the hell is going on out here? Christ sakes! Who are you talking to?”

Rhonda kept her cool. “Just having a cigarette, Robert.” She said not as pleasantly as she could muster, but pleasantly enough considering she was, after all, planning his murder.

Robert put both his hands on the railing. “Hear that? There’s an owl out there somewhere. I hear it almost every night. Must live up in one of these trees.”

A  little smile crossed Rhonda’s face as she stubbed out her cigarette and tossed it into the darkness.

 

 

 

I Am Dumb

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , ,

Sometimes I guess I’m a little bit . . . oh what’s the word I’m looking for, oh yeah — dumb.

I’ve had my horse, Joey, at his new stables for almost six month which means I’ve been to the horse supply store in that neighborhood numerous times.

Joey’s always borrowing my clothes.

Well, guess what I never even noticed was right next door?

An Antique Mall! (Which is code for overpriced thrift store, but still!)  All this time, I could have been exploring their old books and magazines!  Which just goes to show you that sometimes it pays to look right and left.

Anyway, I’m taking the day off from the blog today.  I’m not going to write a post as much as I’m just going to sit here and leisurely browse through an old Saturday Evening Post from 1969 that I picked up yesterday at my newly discovered Antique Mall.

Here’s a car very much like the kind my mother always drove.  They were roughly the size of three football fields. My mother owned many used cars in her life.  But she was very discriminating in that she seemed to only want to buy the ones that had holes in the mufflers.  You could always hear my mother coming a mile away.  She would have made a horrible spy.

Tricky Dick and the Fam

This was in an article entitled:  The Enigma of President Nixon.  I think the enigma is — how did Richard Nixon ever end up with such a nice family? 

 It says:  ” . . . Don’t you think I’ve thought of that–I’d fire them in a minute only the severance pay would wipe me out.” 

Gads people were unhealthy looking then!  I wonder if it had anything to do with the cigarettes and alcohol?  Maybe this was taken during the Great Lettuce Shortage of 1969.

Oh this is interesting.  He’s so busy remembering things he completely forgot to flick his ashes. 

Okay, I had to put my two-cents worth in on that one.

This man not only makes a living writing short paragraphs, he is the human living embodiment of a short paragraph!  Which I guess just goes to show you that God always gets it right!

Well, that was a fun day off from the blog wasn’t it Dear Readers?  Here’s a sneak peek of what we’ll be leisurely browsing through on our next day off:

Don’t ya just love that hole in his pants!

Until next time . . . I love you