Night Music: Concrete and Clay

September 2, 2022

Back when this was new, I remember swapping a copy of the Stones’ “Not Fade Away” for a copy of “Concrete and Clay“.  Ahh, the foolishness of youth!

Good Service

September 2, 2022


What with all the news being filled with stories of long lines at airport security, weeks’ long waits for passports, and similar inconveniences, it was with some trepidation that I went to get my drivers license renewed this morning. I had an appointment but my fears were not allayed by the long line outside the office.

Still, I was surprised at how quickly the line moved and, after a wait of less than ten minutes, I was out of there, yellow paper in hand, five minutes before my appointment was due to start.

Given the large number of people that streamed through that office in just the short while I was there, I have to commend the Licensing Authority for the efficiency of their service. Bravo to them and their staff!

Flash Fiction: It’s Monday Already

September 2, 2022

It’s Monday already, and as soon as it’s Tuesday I’ll be dead.

As soon as it’s Tuesday they’ll strap me to a gurney and inject me with death while a dozen good folks who have done nothing worse in their lives than drown kittens or abuse their workers or cheat on their wives look on. A bunch of them will watch with vengeance in their hearts and with grim grins of satisfaction. A few might be sad. Most — the officers and journalists and the warden — will treat my death with as much indifference as they can manage.

These same people have kept me locked and chained for eight years. They’ve allowed inmates to abuse me, guards to kick me, lawyers to buy boats from the proceeds of unwanted appeals. This afternoon they will feed me a steak, rare, with Caesar salad and french fries on a paper plate with a plastic knife and fork.

They tell me that because I never did drugs it’ll be a cinch to find a vein. I won’t even feel the needle they tell me. Not like those poor bastards who get their heads blown apart with 12000 volts of Old Sparky’s best. I’ll be asleep before death comes, they say, as if that makes it OK. I’m lucky, they say.

Well, I am lucky. As soon as Tuesday comes I’ll know the truth, while they’ll still spend sleepless nights wondering what death is like.

Oh God almighty, it’s Monday already.