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R & R Ramblings

Fictional Fingertip Tapping Tales…

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Humor

Blocked

Blocked - writers block - weekdays - RuralRomanticRamblings.com (1)

‘Everyone hates me,’ cried Monday. Continue reading “Blocked”

Graduation

graduating - school - chalkboard - clock - passage of time - R&RRamblings blog - MelAROWE.com

Graduating, already. Next its university, marriage, and then I’ll be a grandfather. Old. Like my father hunched over crossword puzzles grumbling about medical costs. Yet, Continue reading “Graduation”

The Personal Ad

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As Popeye,

I’m seeking a new Olive Oyl to sail a sea of endless sunsets.

Must have personality first & be willing to drive a boat. Continue reading “The Personal Ad”

’tis the silly season…

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Most of my readers are running from snow – while we’ve been kicking up sand… Continue reading “’tis the silly season…”

Boundaries Pushed

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‘Don’t. You. Dare.’

Continue reading “Boundaries Pushed”

Silenced Surround Sounds

 

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They didn’t smell the pungent regurgitated mashed food that battled against clouds of floral perfumes and spicy aftershaves. They didn’t hear the loudspeaker promoting the latest motivational activity or the surrounding shouts accompanied by scraping chairs and falling cutlery. All they saw was Continue reading “Silenced Surround Sounds”

A Floral Front

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He sniffed, wiped his nose on the cuff of his gloved hands that held the sharp snips he used to trim the stem on the thornless white rose. “Please feel free to browse.” His red eyes wandered over the slim build of the bottle blonde, turning her nose at his art. “Can’t find anything to suit?”

“I want different.” She popped her littlest fingernail into her mouth and teethed on its edge like a termite on timber.

“Of course, you do.” We all do. He sniffed, wiped beads of perspiration from his brow, and eyed the clock’s countdown.

“So, any tips?” Continue reading “A Floral Front”

Blame The Good Doctor

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Rainbow Bali-beads swung from plaited hair strands. Painted fingernails matched the beads’ colour palette, while glitter fell like fairy dust from rouged cheeks. Faux jewels covered each knuckle Continue reading “Blame The Good Doctor”

Push

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“Do you hate me?”

“No.” Yes.

“You can do this.”

“I can.” I can’t.

“You’ll thank me for this later.”

“I know.” Not today I won’t.

“It’ll get easier. Trust me.”

“Ah huh.” As trustworthy as a politician before an election?

“You’re improving with my help.”

“I know.” You’re trying to kill me.

“Come on, one more set of stairs and then breakfast.”

“Can’t wait.” Eggs whites and bird seed, yippee – not.

“You’ve made record time.”

“Ahuh.” And time to find another apartment with a working elevator, without the veganistic, neophyte personal trainer as a flatmate. Or I could push…

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