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May 21, 2007

5.21.07

Your free association word of the day is blue.

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Jim: La La Lala La La...

Several hundred Smurfs sat around the bonfire, all eyes focused on Brainy standing on a small dais. Empty bottles of smurfberry wine littered the ground.

“Once again,” Brainy began. “We meet to discuss our future.”

“Six hundred Smurfs with only one girl,” Dreamy yawned with one droopy eyelid raised to peer at Smurfette. “What future?”

Jokey giggled, “Our faces ain’t the only things that tend to be blue.” Papa Smurf guffawed and fell off his stump.

“Plus we’re inbred to the point of having a single surname,” harrumphed Grouchy.

Brainy grimaced. “I meant fighting Gargamel!”

He really hated drunken Smurfs.

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David: Practical Astrology

“It’s a blue moon,” he told her, pointing toward the large glowing object above. “Depending on who you ask, it’s either the second full moon in a month, or the third of four full moons in a quarter of a year.” He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight.

“Some legends say nights of the blue moon are magic, that any couple who kisses for the first time under its light will be bound together forever.” He bent toward her and brazenly kissed her.

Afterward, she said, “I think that’s a billboard.”

He sighed wistfully. “I know.”

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Jeff R.:Blue Zone

When we saw the federal troops, we thought we were saved, that the end of the crisis was at hand. But luckily for us, there was another group of survivors ahead of us, and they made contact first.

We could hear them. They were speaking, clearly and articulately, thanking God that they G-men were here. There's no damn way they were mistaken for zeds, or that what happened was any kind of a mistake.

Someone inside the Guard leaked the orders to the press, months later. Chicago and environs were designated as Blue Zones: shoot to kill, leave no witnesses.

Read more from JeffR's .

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From The Comments: kipp

Her dreams, nightmares really, had become something more, something she carried with her, throughout the day.

At night, when she was alone, the dread became her master. She drank, popped pills, anything to help her sleep, anything. Maybe she wanted a miscarriage, maybe she blamed her baby, but she always fell asleep hating herself. And, when her dreams woke her, she was left in a puddle of sweat, her knees pulled up like her feet are in stirrups, and with the image of her doctor placing her newborn baby girl in her arms, but its not breathing… it never does.

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Dave: Blue Notes

"Oh, I'm blue ..." I warbled, truly heartfelt.  "Over you ..."

She looked down at my body.  My lips were, in fact, blue.  "Serves you goddamned right," she shouted at me ... well, at my body.  "You couldn't leave well enough alone.  You had to keep asking questions.  Now look at you!"

"Blue mooooooon," I sang.  "You saw me standing aloooooone ..."

"Why couldn't you at least do what I said, once," she shouted at me.  "I didn't want this.  I didn't want to have to do this."

I chuckled, breathed deep, swung into a key change, and headed off to the choir -- well, hopefully, just an ensemble -- invisible. 

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