On Again, Off Again, Something or other Finnigan

Sometimes my 10 minute free writes are quite coherent, other times it comes in fits & starts. I like parts 3 & 4 here, the other 2 bits are “meh.”

I’ve waited so long to meet you. Perhaps this evening we can get that quality time you always spoke of, or maybe just learn to trust a little again. Your screen name never made complete sense to me. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. No. Oh, I do apologize. Well perhaps another time. I see. Thank you. Again, I’m sorry. Please, no. Nothing personal right? Internet dating, I guess this sort of thing happens to a lot of folk. Alright. Have a nice evening. Yes, you too. Goodbye, Jellostone, I mean, Henry. Goodbye.

What in the word is this place coming to. No I don’t want none of your fingerlickin finger foods. What the hell is this shit. I can’t believe they took my dive bar, my place of ill repute and turned it into this tight ass shit. Mother fuck, I think I done turned over in my own grave, except I’m not dead. Wish I was though, seeing what this place has become. Makes me sad man, real sad.

Evening falls on fainting footsteps as lovers walk the spring bloomed paths. Flowers wave heavy heads over the silver trumpets of vine and concrete. Never have I ever seen a place so stunning, never have I ever held a hand so fair. Never have I ever felt like flying, fly away with you somewhere.

It takes a special man to understand the worth of a dollar. To see the potential of the smallest denomination. The power it represents in the right hands. Get that dollar bill into the fist of a driven man and you have started something you won’t want to have to see to believe. Give that driven man a year and he will hand you back a fistful of dollars so thick you’ll think you handed him Jack’s magic beans the way those dollars have grown. Tens and twenties, a hundred bill in there just laughing at its own success. Yes, there are still magic men, men that can take an honest dollar and make a dishonest fortune from it. I’ve seen it happen, and I’ll see it again if ever someone gave that Genevieve boy a buck.

No such luck Killer, all the dog biscuits dun been et. Sorry son, guess the kibbles gonna have to be it for now.

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Published in: on March 10, 2011 at 7:27 am  Leave a Comment  

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