Playing With Fire

Be nice when you meet him, ok?

No it’s not for his sake; you’d never be able to put him out. I’m just saying that if you try teasing him, his scorching riposte with leave you tender for weeks.

Oh he is, very handsome, with his smooth charcoal skin and burning eyes, and yes if you ignite his passion he’ll keep you warm as long as you want him to, but I’d bet a thousand to one that you will burn out long before he does.

Being Gorgeous

Wearing her self-satisfaction and golden locks, her “Goldielocks”, as an exoskeleton, there is no way, I will ever get through to her. I’ve tried telling her a thousand times that the salary of the employees cannot keep them fed, but

“Salary, schmalery,” she says, and “every one of them agreed to work for me under these conditions.”

“And every one of them had their face buried in that ample bosom of yours when they agreed,” I’d like to say, but she always says it with that special glint in her eyes which makes my thoughts fat and lazy, and she has that smile that sticks to my brain like syrup and I just nod, and maybe gurgle, I always have trouble remembering, and when my senses return, she’s off petting some poor employee’s head, and he looks happy of course, but his hollow cheeks remind me that no amount of petting will feed him.

Monkey Business

“And no monkey business,” he says, pointing at me as if he could poke the monkey out of me.

“But of course,” I stroke my tail; for him it probably looks like I’m stroking my Burberry coat. He can’t see the hair on my arms either; that’s not where his distrust stems from. However, he has probably heard about all the trouble I have brought to all my previous business partners.

I’ll do as he says this time. Maybe next time too. In fact, I’m always nice and honest with everyone.

Unless it’s really funny not to be.

Listening To A Mermaid

Green eyes,

Green lips,

Green hair,

And there is probably a green tail under the waves.

She sings,

And I know it is for me,

Only me.

I have been told not to listen to the songs of mermaids,

But they have not seen her pearly skin in the moonlight,

And she loves me,

I hear it in her voice.

I don’t feel the water when I hit it,

But I feel her embrace;


And cold.


Someone must have put a pouch under my porch or written my name and Saint George’s Park on a thigh bone, for I was drawn to the place even though my business lay across town. At the centre of a semi circle of gawking tourists I found her with a boa, a real one, around her shoulders and her bare feet seeming to float over the grass. There was something in her movements which called to me. She was comely of course, but it was more than mere lust. I loosened my tie as she moved close by me trailing the scent of lavender, and I wondered how fast I would have to run to make my appointment.

I was just about to turn, when she, having placed her snake with an assistant, began a new, wilder dance, flourishing many-coloured veils with sequins which flashed in the sun. The air caught in my throat as one of the veils writhed. Then it lunged, sinking its flashing teeth into my veins. I should have woven a protective spell or bought a charm, but by then it was too late, her venom was in my blood. I knew it as I clutched the silky veil in my hands, and I know it now; I must love her or die.

An Explanation


”There is a rational explanation for everything,” says the sock puppet. The brown yarn above its button eyes is supposed to resemble my hair, but all in all it is a less than flattering portrait. “You’re just a big fat cheat,” it sneers.

“There is an explanation,” I say, “it’s probably…” I rack my brains as Tiffany closes the puppet’s mouth and opens her own.

“There is nothing above us but clear sky,” she says, “there’s nothing below us but air and then rocky mountain path, there’s no wind, and we can turn about 360 degrees in any direction, but we can’t get down.”

“It could still be some sort of virtual reality,” I say, “or a dream.”

“Really?” says Tiffany.

“Ok, so what if it is magic,” I say, “that’s still just science, we don’t know how to explain yet.”

“That’s still just science,” the puppet says with a high squeaky voice.

“Could you put that thing away?” I say, “we need to think of a way down from here.”

“You should probably just apologize to that old witch lady.”

“Not a chance.”

“I knew you’d say that. And I know you mean it.” Tiffany sighs and lowers the puppet and we both gently float to the ground. “I don’t mind your points of view, but you’re always a dick about them. I’ll go for a hike on my own, somewhere else.” She jumps into the sky and flies off into the sunset before I can ask her how she did it.



I’ve fallen in love with an angel.

She blinded me with her beauty; her wings were so white it was as if they had a light of their own. I’m getting used to the cane, but it has made it more difficult to meet up with her in areas which I’m not familiar with.

She’s going back to heaven soon which is sort of the problem; it’s the reason I’m here. You see, I’d like you to kill me. Because then it won’t be suicide and then I might have a chance. And just in case it doesn’t work, could you give her my heart?

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