Sunday Cookout
Alfonse sat on his deck admiring his handiwork. He and the John Deere 5740 had the fescue looking ripped. He took another swig of Schlitz ML when out of the corner of his eye he saw a lady tiger mosquito land on his bronzed and sweaty forearm.
She thrust her proboscis through seven layers of dermis and began to suck, filling her belly with his Welbutrin and Xanax infused blood.
Al tensed his muscle just so she couldn't release her grip. Once the siphon had started, it would not reverse and she exploded after a minute sending Al's pathogens all the way to the grill which was filled with brats and burgers freshly flipped by Melba.
Al tensed his muscle just so she couldn't release her grip. Once the siphon had started, it would not reverse and she exploded after a minute sending Al's pathogens all the way to the grill which was filled with brats and burgers freshly flipped by Melba.
Adorned with Al's ketchup the kids didn't wait to be called in for supper and gorged on the protein rich snacks their dad had cooked up.
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Author's Note
With summer right around the corner, my mind started to wonder..
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Ah, summer cookouts! Both entertaining and ewww! at the same time.
The last line is the best. a mix of blood and ketchup.
I'm still craving a brat.
The picture... it's all so clear.
I agree with Cherise!
Good one, Michael. Fav
love that word, fescue. and the way you linked images, ripped to grip to flipped, was cool.
I like this, the imagery of course, but the sense of no story until the last line that explains so much about the character. Nice.
Language in this short links it to prose poetry, yet it is a story: there's a death in the sixth sentence. Lush paragraphing!
*
what a dense, packed piece - great reverb in the lines.
Alphonse? I real jaw-dropper, this story. Fave.
This story made me want to sit on my deck and grill a meal.