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May 5, 2008

Monday

Yep, it's Monday.

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CLOSE-N-PLAY & YEP, IT'S MONDAY (Goldfarb cont')

The yellow brick road snakes between the tall crystalline buildings of the city.

Goldfarb, moving over the uneven surface, places his crutches careful.

Goldfarb must place the crutches carefully.

Over the last hour he has fallen more than a dozen time and the bricks are very hard.

It almost seems as if the bricks are moving of their own accord.

Hearing, from somewhere above, the sound of Elvis singing “In the Ghetto”, Goldfarb looks up.

The old Close-N-Play, falling rapidly from high above, cracks Goldfarb on the head.

The city defends itself with all it has.

It must be Monday.

Posted by: JerryD at May 5, 2008 3:13 PM · Permalink

WHITE NOISE

As usual, a car alarm wailed through the neighborhood at five AM. Garbage trucks rumbled through alleys. Carpoolers running late added to the irritation by frantically honking their horns for their riders. Everyone seemed to run late on Mondays.

Arthur's alarm clock buzzed through his idyllic dreams, and after he showered, groomed and dressed, he took a deep breath and checked his e-mail account. It was a monster. He sipped his coffee and scanned the newspaper: more economic woes, more shootings, more celebrity nonsense, more environmental devastation, more bickering among politicians.

His head throbbed. He wished for a simple life.

Posted by: Jarrett at May 5, 2008 4:34 PM · Permalink