Mr. Bench

 

If you go down to the park.

That park that nobody goes to anymore.

There are two benches, set back to back.

On one of the benches sits a man.

Not an old man or a young man.

Just a man.

Put some money into his hat.

Tell him your name.

Then sit on the other bench.

He will hunch over for a few minutes.

He will make strange noises.

He will tell you things.

Things about yourself.

Who your friends are.

Where you went to school.

What your dog's name is.

What you had for dinner Saturday Night.

Nobody knows.

How this is accomplished.

By the man on the bench.

"Earth Day" excerpt

I have sailed the eternal ether sea,
 between the  stars.
I have pushed out to meet the silence,
 and laughed.
I was the mote in god’s eye,
 and cried.
Today though is my earth day,
 intrepid explorer.
I have returned home,
 hero’s welcome.
I shall lie beneath her green grass,
 and rest.

-a Travelers’ Tale, anon

Martlet

I wandered that day along strange paths seeking forbidden knowledge. I saw you at meadows edge, arms outstretched as if embracing the late afternoon sun. Naked and plump like the first peaches of Summer; pale of skin and rosy bottomed. Bewitched, I stepped lightly over leaf and twig to your side.

You turned and beheld me as if I were a long awaited guest. Our eyes met and I saw your heart shine forth, like the light of an angel, from behind earthy brown eyes. Love came to me not as a cherub, but in the guise of the gay martlet that lit on your shoulder and whispered in your ear.

You floated gently away; drawing me into the golden meadow, promises of ancient knowing’s in your embrace. I could not move; you faded into nothingness leaving a whisper and a memory.

I linger days at meadows edge never entering. I have forsaken toil and pleasures of the flesh awaiting your return. The shadows over my soul deepen until all is black.

-Tom Allman

Caroline

The first time that I saw Caroline’s pussy I was thirteen. She’d lured me away from a dungeons and dragons game with a Yoo-Hoo and some salty language whispered in my ear. It was mystical and fuzzy; I wanted to touch it. She told me she would never show it to anyone else. But when it came time to show her my goods I chickened out.

When I was sixteen I saw it again. We were at bible camp hunting mushrooms. She let me kiss it. It was salty and moist and tasted a little like the morels that we were supposed to be hunting. I came in my shorts from the excitement and was too embarrassed to talk to her the rest of the summer.

When I came home from boot camp she enticed me away from my buddies with a six pack of Pearl and some even saltier language. Now a world-wise Marine, I was prepared for action. A chicken-head rubber I bought in Tijuana adorned my member. It opened before me like the curtains of the whorehouse I had visited with my first weekend pass. She told me that she had never done it before and I was too stupid to know the difference.

The last time I saw Caroline’s pussy was yesterday. It beckoned to me from the bedroom. The kids were asleep and the kitty needed scratching. Still salty and sweet perhaps wiser from childbirth. It’s forever the like the forbidden peach in her short and curly Garden of Eden.

The Torture Never Stops

There is a pause in the IBM Selectric’s staccato as the author surveys his progress…

The metal door of her tiny cell hisses open… The Dark Lord is silhouetted by red, green, and amber lights. He enters, preceded by a floating sphere dripping liquid pain. She chafes against her restraints, her meticulously coiled hair now spilling about her shoulders. His metallic breath catches as he sees her; who is the torturer and who is the tortured. No questions are asked, she knows what he wants.

The wordsmith jerks the paper from the machine, its platen and feed roller clacking angrily in protest. He starts to crumple the offending page…

A Cheshire-like grin begins to form; new possibilities careen across plot lines and branches.

Sweet Revenge

Delores’s Family told her that she was being paranoid; which proved that they were out to get her! Her Cat, Mr. Puss, confirmed her worst fears. “Darling, your loved ones mock you whenever your back is turned.”  

Delores decided to have a third eye grafted into the back of her head.  She took a “ME” weekend and had it done on the sly. It was neatly covered by her mop of auburn hair. “I’ll show those eye-rollers and tongue-sticker-outers,” she fumed.  

The duplicitous feline told the rest of the family what Delores was doing. “He’s been so helpful and given us such good advice since the operation,” they all said.

When she returned home they followed her around striking lewd poses and making “do you want your face to freeze like that” expressions. This was the last straw.

Terrible and irrevocable things were said, dishes and collectibles hurled. This home was now broken. His job complete, Mr. Puss lay in a laundry basket grooming the area where his testicles had been and savored his sweet, sweet revenge.

The Truth About Cats

I love this story! I'm not sure if it's Literature(y) enough to submit anywhere but here.

The Real Story by Tom Allman
As I stared out of the window, thinking of nothing, I suddenly wondered what Cats might use as a form of currency? The old lump of fur in my lap stirred, stretched languidly and began to clean herself. "You know, at one time, cat's were fabulously wealthy," she mewwed.

"Can you read my mind?"

"Shut up, I'll tell you the story, but then I'm going to have take another nap!"

"Ummm, OK."

"Cat's were given fabulous piles of gold coins by the pharaoh Ramses the First." "To keep them safe we stuffed the coins inside the remains of adorable baby birds we'd tortured then buried them in the yard." She circled my lap, claws unsheathed. "We kept watch over them from the highest and sunniest perch's we could find." "When we dozed off though the damn squirrels dug them up and spirited them all away."
"Very sad stuff," I sniffed.
From the corner of her eye she caught sight of a grey maned bandit on the window sill, sending her tail a-twitching. "Brigands," she hissed, "One day we'll be avenged!"
With that stinging ephithat still hanging in the air; she dozed off again.