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Setters vs. Pointers?

I stood before the two doors, entrances to the restrooms at a small café known as The White Dog and felt like I was watching a tennis match.

I looked at the left door. Then the right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left.

How in the hell was I supposed to know which one was the men’s room?

Both had a painting of a dog.

To my left, a big white dog with brown spots. Pointers, it said. Pointers? That’s probably for the men, right?

The other side a mostly white dog, similar enough to the other that I really couldn’t be sure. Setters, it said. Setters? That’s close enough to sitters, right? And women sit on the toilet no matter what…so…

I had no idea what to do. I could go with my gut since a peeing guy  would definitely be considered a pointer. But what if I was wrong? And not only did I go in there, use the bathroom, spot whatever sort of feminine stuff was usually in a bathroom and then as I attempt to discreetly leave find a woman waiting to use it? I’d be so busted!

I checked the lower half of the paintings, hoping for some sort of doggie parts that might answer my question. No luck. I would have to take a chance.

I opened the pointers door and relaxed as I saw that the seat was not down.

Success.

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Safe in a Zombie Apocalypse

This original print, along with many others, is available on my Etsy. Make sure to check out my new novel, The Z Word, available here.

The Road Not Taken (By the Undead)

The Road Not Taken (By the Undead)

By Robert Frost and Dennis Finocchiaro

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, zombies on my trail,
And sorry I could not travel both not knowing which was safe,
And be one traveler, long I stood worried I would fail,
And looked down one as far as I could looking for detail
To where it bent in the undergrowth; I must avoid the zombie strafe.

Then took the other, as just as fair, because I had to choose,
And having perhaps the better claim, of safety and deliverance,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear; no mark of dragging feet or shoes,
Though as for that the passing there seemed safe as I could muse,
Had worn them really about the same, I hoped I had a chance.

And both that morning equally lay two bodies long decaying,
In leaves no step had trodden black. But trails of blood there lay,
Oh, I kept the first for another day! In hope there’d be no slaying,
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I found one creature buffeting,
I doubted if I should ever come back, to try the other way.

I shall be telling this with a sigh that my knife did seep into it’s brain,
Somewhere ages and ages hence: it’s former soul did feel my blade,
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— much in vain,
I took the one less traveled by, and a zombie I have slain,
And that has made all the difference in this, my long crusade.

The Z Word, my first published novel is available now here.  Make sure you like it on facebook by clicking HERE. Feel free to come by and post any zombie poetry you write on our page!

And yes, I know I’m going to literary hell for what I have done to this classic poem. It’s all in good fun.

Justin (A Story of Connections)

Boy was she pissed. He’d never seen her really angry before; usually her pushover personality was something he abused, but something set her off. Maybe she was onto him. Maybe he’d have to change his ways if she figured him out. Or maybe it was time for him to move on.

She was a good lay, sure, had an amazing body, which of course was what attracted him to her in the first place. She talked too much for his liking, especially after they banged, but he could deal with it so long as she kept doing all she did in the sack.

A sharp turn made the tires on his BMW squeal. He’d better bring it to the shop this week and have them check the air.

How was he supposed to remember their six month anniversary? It had started out as a drunken fling, he had no intention of keeping her around until that move she made, the one he constantly hoped she would do again but she saved for special occasions. He briefly wondered if she was holding out to keep him around but quickly brushed the thought away. She didn’t have that kind of personality. He would probably use the word sweet to describe her, which made him shudder a little.

What were they doing around here, giving away free beer? The whole strip was devoid of parking spots, and he had to get to the jeweler soon or all hope of tonight being that special move night would be for nothing. He had to really go all out to make up for forgetting. What did he care anyway, it was just another date on the calendar…

He made a turn and saw someone with their turn signal on and knew it was a spot. If he gassed it and jumped the medial strip he could just beat her…

Duffy (A Story of Connections)

Duffy’s short canine legs were working overtime in his attempt to flee the much larger Doberman that had been chasing him since the park. His paw still hurt from the twig that had become lodged in it, but he could still run. He headed for a small hole in the fence he saw up ahead and made it through just in time to narrowly escape the Doberman’s sharp teeth. It barked through the hole, but Duffy recognized how safe he was, yelped once or twice with an attitude, then headed off to the dumpster he loved to root through before heading home.

He turned a corner only to find the Doberman standing there in wait, almost smiling at him. He turned to take off but the bigger dog was just too close, he knew he was caught. And he would have been if not for the little boy digging in the park.

“Hey!” the kid yelled and both dogs froze to look at him. He ran and scooped up Duffy. “Bad dog!” he said to the Doberman, who had been hit by his master just enough to assume another strike was coming, so he ran away whimpering. The kid held Duffy up so that their eyes met. “Hi, I’m Billy. Duffy, huh?” Duffy recognized his name and gave a friendly bark. “I think you owe me one, Duffy. That big dog was probably going to eat you.” Duffy responded by licking the kid’s face, on which the little Scottie recognized the taste of ice cream. He licked until the taste of vanilla was gone and then wiggled until Billy dropped him.

“Hey!” the little boy said as Duffy took off down the path, leaving Billy to continue with his digging project.

With the park behind him, Duffy headed to the dumpster, where he filled his belly from the Mexican restaurant that used it and went to head home when the door opened and a man carrying two huge bags of food stepped on his tail. Duffy whelped in pain loud enough that the man stumbled and dropped one of the bags. The splattering sound let him know something had gone wrong in the bag, but he wanted to check on the poor dog he’d stepped on first.

“You okay boy?” he asked in a kind tone as he squatted to check the pup. Duffy jumped up and barked once in anger before taking off, leaving the man to check on his  dinner.

Damien (A Story of Connections)

Damien was running down the street, and for a man who never runs and has a few extra pounds, it was quite a sight. The combination of a tie flying over his shoulder, his jacket in flight behind him, and a bright red face all told people ahead of him to get out of his path or deal with the aftermath. He almost didn’t hear the muffled yelps as he turned a corner but stopped fast enough to make a group of nearby children liken him to a cartoon character.

As he followed the cry for help, he checked his watch and knew he was already going to be late, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. He followed the sad whimpers until they led him to a small alley. He discovered the poor little guy, a tiny Scottie limping around in a circle and tearing up.

“Hey there boy,” he said in his calmest voice, forcing his heavy breathing aside for a moment. “What’s the matter?” The pup looked up at him with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, even including the poster of the sick puppy he had on the wall of the office in his veterinary practice. It didn’t take long for him to spot the small twig wedged into the jet-black dog’s paw and he pet the little guy to calm him down.

“Don’t worry little fella. Let’s check your tag.” He let the dog sniff his scent and then checked the dangling gold emblem attached to the collar. “Duffy, huh? Okay Duffy we’ll have you fixed up in a jiff.” The dog reacted positively to hearing his name, barked and then rolled over, offering the damaged paw to the doctor.

He had the twig out in a few seconds and Duffy jumped up, barked twice, and took off.

“Guess you won’t be paying me,” Damien said to no one in particular. He started a bit as he checked his watch. His friend who set them up specifically told him not to be late, and it was 7:07, a few minutes past the appointed meeting time. He ran to the alley’s edge and hailed a cab.

As he checked himself in the window of the small restaurant, his eyes refocused on the single woman sitting alone in the restaurant, his date. He panicked. Her strawberry-blonde hair, beautiful eyes, amazing body, he focused back on his reflection and knew he never had a chance, even if he had been punctual.

He was better off standing her up than facing rejection again. Another taxi later and he was on his way home.

Thanks

She awoke and looked over at him, dead asleep, then at the clock, which said 12:01.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” she whispered to him. “I’m most thankful for you.”
He smiled and she was unaware he was awake.
“I heard that…”
Her eyes widened a bit.
“I’m thankful for you, too,” he said.