Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Pink Slip Palsey

Here I sit amongst a greasy za box
and cheap, half chugged bottle;
unemployment reflux was slowly
rising to kick in at full throttle.

That spit-spicy hot exit interview that
I was most unwillingly a guest of at noon,
had swapped my happy sung demeanor
for an uncharacteristic - but catchy tune.

And I whistled and swore it along the
drive home to my mortgage due castle;
where awaited - no shining knight but -
a royal, full-time charwoman's dull hassle.

With a few hollow groans and a large soggy gulp,
I made a cranial assessment of my impending doom;
and those dreary, sagebrush colored, hand-me-down
drapes seemed to mock me in empathetic gloom.

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