Tabasco Revenge

by Michael Healy

Avant-garde morning sun floated through

bay windows, the illumination

cascaded and curled and

descended the air ripples which

emanated from the oscillating

fan in the corner.

Gathered on the rug the light

hovered in anxious

intensity. Suspended dust-

jelly was skewered like

kabobs, while shimmering

light shafts were

masticated by the

nervous air currents.

Octopus tentacle thoughts 

plotted the days circumstances. First up

quiche for breakfast, which

reeked from a thick

salve of spilled

Tabasco which had leaked from a broken bottle.

Usurped the subtlety, the

vulnerability of the egg and ham

wedding, the pepper

xenolith stood firm,

yelled to the other flavors and claimed victory,

zero-sum taste diplomacy.