Plan C might be more effective

I went to a party last night and didn't leave til fairly late at night. Knowing the other occupants of the house would be asleep I decided to call my boyfriend, thus waking up only one person by calling than the whole house by knocking. My plan was diverted though, when I called his phone I was directed to an automatic messaging service that informed me that he had no money on his phone and therefore was not recieving calls at this time.
I changed lanes and went to plan b; a simple and surely effective plan which involved throwing gravel at our bedroom window. I'd seen this trick work in many movies and t.v. shows, and since it worked for television characters I was sure it would go well for me.
I pulled up to the house, got out of the vehicle and immediately began searching for some gravel. What struck me first was the obvious lack of gravel or anything hard in our front yard, and second was that it was dark and hard to see any gravel, if it were there, or pinecones, which were there. After 5 minutes of running my hand through wet grass and pine needles, I found a pine cone and went to the window to throw it. My first attempt did not reach it's target but flew uselessly into the air and then back, hitting me on the shoulder and then into the thick bush where I left it. Feeling desperate I began throwing mulch at the window which hit, and then showered back into my eyes and hair. I saw no response and I gave up, went to the door and began knocking lightly, the dogs barked but no one came.
I knocked louder, with the sharp of my knuckles, but ended in banging with my fists. Eventually I saw my mom come down the stairs so I reached for the handle to give it a rattle as show that it was locked and I could not get in. Instead of rattling, the handle turned and the door gave way.
My mom pulled at her nightgown in alarm, and then saw it was only me and wondered aloud why I was knocking if the door was open. I explained that I didn't have my key and that I'd thought it was locked.
She went back to bed and I opened the door to my room. Light from the hall fell across my boyfriends sleeping face and over his ears, which had headphones on them.

Madge DoRightly

DoRightly is a very rare last name.
Very few last names in the US are DoRightly.
Be proud of your unique last name!
source

Childrens Poem

My Pet

When I am grown up
When I am older than now
I think I will have a pet.
Maybe a puppy or maybe a cow
It can’t be much better than that.
Unless…

Unless I had a turtle,
If I did I’d name him Boswell
He’d eat lettuce and run races
In his brown and green checked shell.
Indeed, Boswell would be lovely
A real easy kind of pet
Of course I prefer a challenge…
Well, we needn’t decide yet.

Now I’m thinking, something bigger
Like a dog…or better yet!
Something different, more exotic
Like a gator that, when wet,
Will play games like tag or water sports
And when its mouth is open wide
Will impress my friends immensely with his gleaming set of knives!
What that? Oh, yes perhaps what you are saying could be true.
Being eaten by a gator very simply would not do.

Well perhaps I went to far,
Let my imagination run
I’ll rethink this, just a moment.
Perhaps something that likes sun?
Something furry, something purring
With a kittenish type charm…
Yes, that’s it! Now I’ve got it!
I’ve always wanted an ant farm.

New Years Eve Past

Dead Christmas trees run down the street.
Footprints crease the ice and sleet.
Laughter sounds out to the night.
Mouths wide open, eyes shine bright.
Pine needles cling to hair-bleached white,
And a wild mane, dark as night.
Midnight gone and long forgotten.
When glasses clinked and coats were brought in.
To a moment one cannot forget,
A time when you felt infinite.

Something to Ponder

A sense of duty is useful in work
but offensive in personal relations.

Bertrand Russel (1872-1970)

From night to sunlight I think of all the things I’m supposed to do
and should have done and will do
and won't have done, when the time comes
to cash in my chips and gather the clips of time that I wasted
and try to undo all I never did.Lie awake on my pillow
fret for lack of money or strength
wrinkles form while worries wait
tired eyes look for a wayI am eighteen going on eighty-eight.

What the pillow saw

The pillow saw a girl lay down
against the sheets she wore a frown.
The pillow watched her as she lay
sensing certain misery
the girl's hands moved about her slowly
here and there, explored her lowly
till they came to home at last
the pillow felt her body relax
they slid into her lacy shorts
and (this is what the pillow reports)
at once began to squirm and twist about
to open her mouth and scream and shout
the pillow felt her urgency
but could not help in the emergency
at last she stiffened quietly
and lay down with some piety
and fell asleep and began a dream...
the pillow never was the same.

someday

He calls me a dreamer, Says I won't get nothin' done.
That I just sit here on my bed
looking vacant with my pants undone.
He doesn't know what’s going on inside my busy head.
It might look as though I’m drooling
that I'm lacking any pluck
but I’m deciding on the things I’ll do with the money I’ve saved up.
Go to college
Buy a car
Get an apartment in Cashmere
I could save enough to buy a plane to fly away from here.
But I haven't got that money now
and without it I am nothing
so I'll lie here dreaming of the day I get around to doing something

Rapex

This will leave your mouth hanging open and your vagina clamped.

Another perfect day

She flicked the ashes off the end of her cigarette, caught by a sudden breeze,
the grey dust flew into her coffee, making it undrinkable.
"Oh great" she thought, taking another drag from her cigarette, it's cherry burning to match her face.

The day had turned out to be something of a disaster; She was already late for her interview that morning when her cat scampered outside as she'd been struggling to get her portfolio through the door. As it passed underneath her feet, she felt its soft fur brush against her leg and worried that it would be for the last time.
When she finally got the portfolio into her car, there was no time to search for the cat so she crossed her fingers and hoped it would decide to come back. Then she shut her pant leg in the door and nearly backed into the mailbox in her haste.

By the time she got to the studio, it was 13 minutes past her appointment, so she skittered past the secretary, hand out stretched for the knob to the office and promptly ran into a tall, pale man in a black suit who’d suddenly replaced the door.
He looked down at her through white eyelashes with a bored stare and she stared back.

"Linda Beets, I assume" he stated, gesturing to his office.
"Yes sir" she whispered, obediently following his sweeping arm.

"You are late, Linda Beets." He said, seating himself behind a rather imposing desk.
"I'm sorry sir, I was..."
"Not necessary. Please?"
He held out his hand.
She shook it.
"Your portfolio..."
"Oh...uh, yes" she concentrated on steadying her hand.

She had been extremely nervous before she'd even left the house; now she was positively insane, incessantly thinking that this man could make or break her career in the next 5 seconds.
As he browsed through her best work, he made little noises, the kind a therapist makes when you tell him you think you’re getting better.

He stood up, her folder still in his white hands.
"Thank you for coming, we'll be in touch"
She looked at him unsteadily, he hadn’t said anything to her, hadn’t asked her any questions, hadn’t acted slightly interested; she stood, waiting for him to hand her back her so called art.
What had she been thinking, she wasn't good at anything! My God, how could she even assume to be anything better than a waitress for the rest of her wretched life? Her mother would be frolicking in the I-Told-you-not-to-get-your-hope-up's, she'd never live down the time she tried to be more than she was raised to be.

He'd looked at her a minute longer, the bored stare seemed to be studying the twitches on her face. Then he handed back the portfolio, and waved her to the door.

When she'd gotten to her car, she'd noticed a big scratch in the red paint that hadn't been there before. Screaming inside and out, she threw open the door, heat whooshed out at her and perspiration dampened her upper lip immediately.
Still screaming, she threw her things in the car, and slammed herself down in the hot seat.

Feeling defeated she’d driven home, dropped her things on the floor and lit up a cigarette in an attempt to forget everything that’d happened that day.
She felt the smoke in her lungs, and watched it pour thickly from her lips, then dissolve in the air.
She looked down at the ash which was floating around in her once fresh, coffee and felt depressed.

The phone rang urgently, and she slowly stood up to get it.
It was wailing loudly, practically jumping off the table, which annoyed her.
"Shut up!"
She walked faster, tossing the coffee into the sink as she passed.
"Hello?"

Linda listened intently, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
"We would like you to come back for a second interview, you work shows promise".
"Yes sir"
"And Linda?"
"Yes?"
"Be on time"
"Yes sir!" she said grinning.
Oh, how could she have doubted herself, doubted her skills?! Her lovely mother would be so proud, she just knew she would be accepted!
As she hung up the phone she heard a noise behind her.

She turned slowly, in her head relief turned to confusion and possible fright.
No one was there...

"Meow?"