Tag Archives: sarcasm

Prom

Posted on June 20, 2013 | Leave a comment

 DSC00034356736Photograph by Haylie Maxine Photography

 

“Nice sunglasses,” Tory said to Oliver. “They’re so you.”
“I can recognize your sarcasm, Tor. We’ve only been dating for seven months now.”
“I’m so proud of you for finally becoming fluent…”
He took the sunglasses off and placed them gently on her mother’s coffee table. The mirror on the wall beckoned him to check that his tie was straight; this was after all prom night. His first prom. It was actually only the second time he wore a tie in his whole life. And while he would never admit it to Tory, his dad tied it for him.
“You look nice,” she said as she hugged him from behind and helped straighten the tie. “The suit is very you.”
“And the sunglasses?” He went to pick up the white framed glasses but she snatched them up from the table before he could.
“Too slow!” She threw them on her face with a giggle. “Look at me! I’m Ollie. I’m so cool!” The goofy grin on her face was bad enough, but then she started making peace symbols with her hands. “Guess who I am!”
“Shut up!” Ollie said as he pulled them off her face. “That’s not what I look like!” She smiled at him, the one he always called her winning smile she used when she could tell she’d gone too far, and then put out his arms. She nestled into them and put her head on his shoulder.
“Okay,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go to prom.”

Photograph by the talented Haylie Maxine Photography. For more information/images check out her Flickr or like her on Facebook.

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Colorful Altercation

Posted on February 23, 2012 | Leave a comment

I plopped on the orange couch, shocked that I had experienced heartbreak in Ikea, of all places. It started with a conversation about possible plates for our apartment and escalated into something much bigger. We couldn’t decide on a sofa, either. Or an ottoman. In the years we’d spent together it was always like this; we couldn’t agree on anything. A movie. A television show. Which park to hike in. I guess I should have seen it coming.

She exploded. She’d had enough. I wanted the white plate with the gray circle. She wanted the white one with the orange line. And now I find myself on an orange couch with no ride home to an apartment that was ours, but will probably just end up hers.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this were the first Ikea breakup over color choices or if this was a common occurrence. It probably happens a lot, considering the strong colors they tend to prefer. Maybe they come onto a loudspeaker and say something like “We have heartbreak over color choices in the Living Room section,” and someone brings the broken person a complimentary plate of Swedish Meatballs.

An Ikea worker in his blue and yellow outfit approaches me, but his hands are meatball-less and he continues right by and into the shortcut to the children’s section.

Photograph by the talented Kate Hiscock. Click the image for her Flickr.

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Come Here (A Short Film)

Posted on September 21, 2010 | 5 comments

My short story Come Here made into a short film:

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Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander

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Read a Comic in Public Day

Posted on August 29, 2010 | 9 comments

He was sitting on the bench on his street reading The Walking Dead when the stranger approached him.

“Hi there. Reading a comic, huh?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“In public?”

“Yeah, that’s the general idea.”

“You know Read a Comic in Public Day was yesterday, right?”

He looked over his copy of The Walking Dead and raised his eyebrows.

“You’re a day late,” she said with a sly smile.

“I worked all day yesterday. A double. And it doesn’t have to be Read a Comic in Public Day to read a comic in public. Maybe I sit here every Sunday and read. Maybe I read novels, literature, classics, and everything else on Sundays. Maybe this week just happens to be a comic.”

“Maybe,” she said with a hint of doubt, “But I doubt it,” she finished as she sat next to him. “Walking Dead, huh? Like zombies?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“True, true. So what did you read sitting here last week? War and Peace? Great Gatsby, perhaps?”

His face turned the slightest hint of red. “The Last Man,” he mumbled.

“Thought so,” she smiled.

She riffled through her bag and pulled out an earlier copy of The Walking Dead.

“Mind if I join you? I worked a double yesterday too.”

“Sure.”

She opened it to page one. “Just don’t tell me what happens. You’re ahead of me.”

He continued to read, but now with a big smile on his face.

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The Healthcare Issues of a Couple in Love

Posted on June 29, 2010 | 3 comments

“Do you ever think about marrying me?” she asked wide-eyed.

“Interesting pillow talk,” he thought to himself.

“Of course I do. I’m just waiting for the right-”

“Time?” she said with too much enthusiasm.

“Um…I was actually going to say health insurance.” He tried not to crack a smile.

She jumped up. “What?!?!”

He chuckled and she cracked a smile.

“What’s sad is that I know you’re only half kidding.”

“True.” He reached over and stuck his thumbs into her armpits before she could react and had her giggling in no time. “God knows I wouldn’t marry you for your money. You work at Borders!”

Between giggles she tried to defend herself both against the tickles and his teasing.

“Shut up! Yours isn’t much better – and at least-” giggles “Mine is-” laughing harder “full-time!” She started squealing as he switched it up and started squeezing her ribs a bit, tickling the old ivories.

“Let’s face it,” he continued. “Right now your health insurance isn’t so great. I’m looking for a girl with seriously awesome insurance. So you know, when I get sick, it’s easier. Cheaper. Five dollar co-pay.”

She jumped up and pushed his arms away. Now it was her turn as she somehow got her hands onto his belly, his weak spot. His laughter was uncontrolled as he fell to the ground.

“How about now? What do you have to say now?” she said, laughing as hard as she was when roles were reversed.

He tried but couldn’t get the words out. Finally she let up but kept her hands on his belly.

“Well? What do you have to say?” He grinned and she poised for another attack.

“Dental. And vision.”

So she attacked.

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What’s My Motivation?

Posted on May 29, 2010 | 3 comments

“I’m an actor, I need my motivation,” he said.

“To make breakfast? Really?” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her roommate. “How about to eat? Fulfill your animalistic need to feed? Survival?”

“Meh.”

“Don’t you have call backs later today? I don’t know – a stomach growling on stage, not sure how that would go over. Imagine what the casting director would say…”

He jumped up and headed for the kitchen as a sly smile crossed her face.

“Still got it,” she said, lounging back onto their orange velvet couch. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and curled herself up into it. A few minutes worth of sizzling sounds came from the kitchen and moments later he was above her holding out a plate and mug. “Spinach omelet. Irish Breakfast tea with a splash of milk.”

“Yum,” she said as she sat up and took them from his hands.

“I hope you’re happy.”

“It was your turn!” she said with a frown.

“Your hair is a mess. You have sex hair.”

“I do not!”

“Do you honestly think I didn’t hear captain marvelous stumble out this morning? He stepped on Walter,” he said as their cat entered the room on queue, almost frowning at her in frustration after having been stepped on.

“Aw, Walter, come here, I’m so sorry,” she said in a baby voice, making him cringe.

“So, yeah, sex hair. You’re so transparent. If you’re planning on going to class I would at least run a brush through it. Not that the neighbors don’t know what a whore you are, what with all that noise last night. Or maybe they’ll just think Walter was in a cat fight.”

“Sounds like you’re the one in the mood for a cat fight. Don’t forget to wash the dishes,” she said, leaving her plate behind on the couch for him to pick up but bringing the mug with her. He grunted she spun back to answer.

“It’s your turn! I did breakfast yesterday!”

“Yeah, I remember, runny eggs and toast barely toasted. A real treat.”

He sat back and ate the last bit of his omelet and then jumped a bit as she screamed.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to brush my hair! It’s really knotted!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let him pull it so much.”

She poked her head out of the bathroom, blushing a little.

“Yeah, I heard that part too. Everyone did. Whore.”

“You’re just jealous that I have a man and you don’t.”

“For the hundredth time I AM NOT GAY.”

“Now who is transparent?” she asked from the doorway again, this time smiling.

“Try taking a shower. You can’t possibly be planning on going out today without washing off the stink of nasty, dirty hair-pulling sex.”

This time only a hand with an extended finger protruded from the bathroom.

“Mature.”

She started running the shower and then poked her head out again.

“Shouldn’t you be heading out to callbacks? Or do you need me to tell you your motivation. Probably to get a beej from the director.”

He gave her the finger, and as he did so noticed the time on his watch, cursed, grabbed his coat and ran towards the door.

“Have a nice day, slut.”

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A Swingset Romance

Posted on January 13, 2010 | 4 comments

She pumped her legs back, then forth, then back again.  So did he.

“Race you to the top!”

“Don’t you mean let’s see who swings highest?”

He laughed.  Always so logical.

He slowed down on purpose, she stretched her legs as far as they would go.

“I win!”

He smiled and started dragging his feet, and she followed suit.

At a standstill.

“It’s really cold tonight.”

“I can see my breath.”

She pretended to draw on an imaginary cigarette, blew out, and laughed out more.

He started coughing, waving imaginary smoke from his face.

“Secondhand smoke kills.  Thanks for that.”

“Oh please, you lost the last few minutes of life when you’re old and dying and it’s at its worst.”

He stopped smiling.

“But my last few minutes will be with you, saying goodbye to you.  Do you really want to lose that?”

Her smile melted away as well.

“Well, no.”

“Then take it back.”

She thought about it, leaned back on the swing, holding onto the chain and letting her hair almost reach the dirt underneath.  When she pulled herself up, she was smiling again.

“Fine. “

She started pumping her legs again frantically, picking up speed.

“Best two out of three?”

Artwork by Matilda, http://matilda.dreamwidth.org/

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