Kink Instinct
May 27, 2010 in Writing
I’m the stenographer of instinct. A natural. Grade A, #1. An Asian bride to take home to your Presbyterian family. At first they won’t like me, but once I do my table dance and slip into your father’s lap, their feelings will get a little jumbled.
“She’s not all that bad,” dad will say.
“Hell, she can sleep in my room,” says little brother.
“That woman cannot stay the night in my home!” says mom.
Sister Jane slips her a note that says meet me out back when the lights go out. Read the rest of this entry →
The jarval stared at her malevolently, saliva dripping from its gaping jaws, making its fearsome teeth glisten in the harsh winter sunlight. 
Dan was a single guy living at home with his father and working in the family business.
A young children’s librarian who is six months out of library school comes into my office for her half-year probationary review. If she passes the review she becomes a permanent member of the staff; if she flunks she’s gone. 
I dreamed last night that I woke up late because my alarm clock had grown arms and legs and run away. Then, as I stumbled into the kitchen I discovered a crocodile was eating Cheerios on my kitchen floor. Being late, I decided to pass on breakfast and returned to my bedroom to dress. I took off my nightgown, slipped into some edible panties, pink tights, a torn tutu, and my basketball jersey. I then slipped on my funky purple tennis shoes, went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, braided my hair into a pig tail, climbed out my bedroom window, got on my bicycle, and peddled off to school.
