#28 Cute in the Face

The woman walked away from the table, leaving her number on a cocktail napkin. Both men watched her leave, hips swaying to the music. Terry looked at Allen and sighed.

Why do I always get the ugly ones?

Ugly? Allen replied. He grabbed the napkin and held it up. This woman, this Veronica, was hot. I mean smoking hot.

Terry winced. You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you see her philtrum? It had to be at least two-centimeters wide. And don’t get me started on her dorsum, either. Christ! I do have standards, man.

Allen was speechless. After a while he opened his mouth.

Did you see those big, juicy tits, Terry? Not to mention that skinny waist and round, round ass. Allen used his hands to diagram; it looked like he was holding an invisible basketball.  

Terry yawned. Well, he said, Not just anybody can date an otorhinolaryngologist. 

#27 The Pasta Maker

All he takes with him is what fits into his car. The rest of his old life is piled in heaps by the curb. He did keep the handmade chitarra and pettine, the 50mm ravioli mould and the olivewood drying racks. All gifts from her grandmother, who taught him the art of pasta only months before her heart gave out.

He walks the tiled floors and wooden stairs one last time, and smiles at the small clumps of dog hair. He could never seem to sweep up all the molt, but always thought it made the house a home. He wonders if the new tenants will keep the floor clean.

He passes the guest bedroom and stops in the hall. The door to the master is halfway open. It is empty, has been since last summer. Essentially, anyway. No need to see it again. He knows it’s time to leave. 

-For DB

#26 Scamming Grammie

She’s what? Joe shouted.

A small voice came over the telephone and answered him.

But Grammie’s like eighty-five! Why’s she getting married again? Not to be rude, but she’ll only be around a little while longer. And Papa only died three years ago!

The voice spoke up.

Ok! Joe went on, Four years ago. But still, to marry this guy? It’s not like they’re going to fuck, right? Do people that old fuck?

The voice gagged. Joe laughed, then listened to the voice a moment, and gagged too.

Well, that’s the fucking grossest thing I’ve ever heard. No man, that’s plain wrong.  Shit. You just ruined Thanksgiving for me. Forever. Thanks a lot. Wow. Does your wife know you’re that kinky?

They laughed.

So, what’s this guys name anyway? Joe snorted. Art? His name is Art? As in ‘Scam Artist.’ Ten bucks says he takes her for all she’s worth.