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December 17, 2007

Monday

Tired, torn, or trendy.

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Carefully he ran his scissors though the clean denim, then slid his finger through the cut and began to tear the hole wider.

After making another tear, he used his magic marker to carefully place random symbols up and down the legs.

Finally, as he held up the jeans for a closer inspection, the bedroom door opened.

"What are you doing?! I just bought those for you!"

"Mommmmm! You're supposed to knock!"

"I'm tired of buying you new jeans just to have you ruin them as soon as we get home!"

"I'm not ruining them! I'm making them cooler! Geez!"

Posted by: Nick at December 17, 2007 12:21 PM · Permalink

The last vendor arrives when the others have gone, and sets his stall between the mists and the road. The primary gods are leaving the market with their finds. They hold the perfect souls to the light, admiring the lives they will lead. Peace prize winners are always popular. Saints and martyrs are making a comeback.

The after-hours vendor sets out his wares. There are tricksters, artists, murderers, souls with bloodstains, souls that are torn, souls dusty and beaten from travel. The gods of few believers will come and pick through them soon. There are always bargains to be had.

Posted by: Meowbag at December 17, 2007 2:00 PM · Permalink