Remember last post we talked about my writing shorties? Here is an excerpt of one of them. I don’t know how you feel about the amount of snow you’ve had in your neck of the woods, but here, it’s caused us to miss a friend’s play, a day of work, untold errands and several trips to the tanning bed. :) At any rate, it spawned another shorty for my collection.
“Isn’t it glorious?” he asked. He didn’t need an answer, he was so enamored by the twinkling and sparkling and dazzling white. Not bleach white, but halogen purity on display straight from heaven. I took a deep breath and decided to be honest.
“Frankly, I’m sick of it, Mr. Winter. We’re all sick of it.”
“Ingrate!” he gasped. I served him a plate of egg whites with sautéed white mushrooms and white onions, sprinkled with white pepper. His white gloved hand took the plate and his fork poked at the eggs in search of offending yolk. He found none, and satisfied, took a bite. With his mouth full, he asked, “Do you have white toast?”
I handed him the breadbasket filled with unbuttered toast halves, practically raw toast; it didn’t look as much like toast as dry bread.
“Even Boston and Buffalo are weary.”
“Bite your tongue!” he rarely looked at me, so enamored was he with the snow-globe effect beyond the glass.
“Face it, you’re getting lazy and sloppy. Seven feet in one day? We all know that you normally dole it out in inches and maybe a foot plus in the higher altitudes. Seven feet in Boston? That’s just pure unadulterated laziness.”
Please let me hear from you if you would like to see more excerpts!