Tuesday, November 30, 2010

The figure moved stealthily on silent feet; staying close to the outside wall. The stone corner was in sight, simply a matter of a few steps…


Gabrielle’s head snapped up, aggravation washing across her face. She let out a frustrated growl and craned her neck to see an adolescent boy sitting atop the thatched roof. “If you’re not careful you’re going to cave in,” she scowled. “In fact, I hope you do. Papa will tan your hide good.”

The young boy laughed and swung his feet lightly as they dangled several feet above Gabby’s head. “You’re not a very good sport at this game. I get you every time.”

“That’s because you’re older. You’ve been playing longer.” She stuck out her tongue in a near pout.

He laughed again. “Not true. Jamie’s even better than you, and you’re older than him. “The point is to be sneaky. And you’re just not good at it.”

“It’s not fair when you climb on top of roofs. You can’t take the advantage like that.”

“Who says?”

“I do,” she threw her hands on her hips, pursing her lips tightly.

“Advantage is there for the taking. There are no rules. It’s all about stealth. It is clear you don’t have any,” he smirked.


“Gabby, just admit that I am better than you.”

She crossed her arms tightly and turned away.

“Boys are always better.” He laughed again.

That did it. Gabrielle whirled around, her eyes aflame with fury. She leapt up and reached for his feet, but he jerked them out of her reach. The motion was enough to send him flailing back against the thatched roof.

With a loud crack, his weight sent him crashing through to the dirt floor below. He landed in a cloud of dust on his back.

Thursday, November 25, 2010


Called to the back room—the manager's office—

and sat down, crossing my legs casually.

Small talk drifted from the other side of the desk.

Customers, the price of fruit, and even the best parking spots for employees.

I try to look him in the eye, but fail.

Two horns and a pig's snout rest atop slouched shoulders.

My polite mask never twitches as I blink.

Horns disappear. A pimpled face once again.

His hand lay dead on the Formica desktop,

curled in an unassuming fist.

A formal meeting instead of a pink slip?

Leaning back, his voice baritoned.

Babbling lies crawled from his mouth like cockroaches.

Late, no customer service, throwing food—

Who in their right mind throws food at customers?

Motionless, a statue in the chair.

Are you that much of an idiot?

His concern evaporated as he smirked.

Lips tightened, forcing myself to swallow the putrid taste

building in my mouth, dammed by teeth.

Finally, the bottom line: “You're fired.”

He was destroyed a thousand times in my mind.

Maimed, mutilated, and tortured every conceivable way.

A smirk carefully hidden behind distress.

Really, I'm heartbroken.

Rising, I mumble, distracted—

I have not yet exhausted my supply of murderous fantasies.

A chair scrapes as he extends a hand.

Are you kidding me?

My back ignores him as I twist the knob into freedom.

He can rule this kingdom where a call for price checks floats above the aisle;

but he can not rule me—

not for $7.25 an hour.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

#11 -- The Singapore Slinger

Okay, so I really should be blogging about my vacation to Malaysia and Singapore, but instead this is all about drink number eleven.

But first, a recap:
#9 -- joining the mile-high club. I don't know why that has to have a sexual connotation. Why can't it refer to anything that happens a mile above the earth?
I had a glass of white wine (don't know what kind it was specifically), but it was totally not worth my 9th drink. It tasted gross and I couldn't even finish it. You know how small those plastic glasses are -- the kind that they put apple juice and 7-Up in. Really classy wine glasses, I know. But in any case, I used up numero 9 on the flight back from Manila to Portland. First class is totally not worth the extra $1000.

#10 -- Strawberry margarita at the Dubliner. We had gone out to do some salsa dancing and stopped at the Dubliner in Bangkok. Granted, I don't remember if it was a strawberry margarita, but it was fruity and sweet. Nothing exciting happened, but it was followed by soco and sprite. Pretty good; not as good as Germany.

And now.......#11 -- The Singapore Slinger in, where else, Singapore. I wasn't planning on using up #11 in October, and especially on vacation. I started with a mocktail and a bottle of water and was totally content, until we decided to drink out by the water.
Let's back up for a paragraph.....October break was spent in a relaxing vacation in Penang, Malaysia--the smallest national park, a secret beach, a chocolate haven, Indian food, Chili's, church with new friends, and of course the one thing that made it all possible -- bus 101. After Penang, we made our way down to Singapore via an overnight bus complete with reclining seats and movies. By 9 in the morning, we had made it to our destination, found our hotel, and was on the hunt for the Merlion. The Merlion became our favorite place to visit in Singapore partly because we made our way back to it on the night of the Slinger. We were planning on meeting up with a few other girls we had traveled with, but since that was unraveling quickly, we took a walk by the river canal in the hopes of finding some interesting company. We found a pub, ordered drinks inside, and were headed outside before realizing that the fourth member of our group was not with us. Yup, she was quick to find company with a couple Australians. Inviting themselves to our table, they greeted the rest of us eagerly (if not a tad gaily). After seeing our 'fourth member' with a Slinger, they ordered a round for everyone. If you haven't had a Slinger, it is a pink fruity drink with an orange slice on the glass; so having two men order it for everyone including themselves. I tried telling him that he didn't have to order one for me, but when the drinks came, there was definitely one set aside for little ole me.
What was I to do? Drink it of course. Tasty, fruity, and a wee bit strong, the Slinger was more than I needed. I am not even sure I finished it. Mostly I sat there quietly listening to everyone else talk. Let's face it, 4 girls and 2 guys is an uneven party. Since I've been teaching at a Christian school the past three months, hearing foul language in everyday conversation was very rare. Hearing it now was like a wake-up call -- the world was not a Christian community. And the great thing was, I hated hearing it. I had gotten pretty accustomed to hearing swearing all the time with college students, but now in Thailand, if people swear they do it in Thai, and I gratefully can't understand them.
Anyway, I was getting immensely bored listening to these two men brag about themselves, and was starting to have breathing problems (since I'm allergic to alcohol), so I decided to go for a walk and explore what else was down the lane. By this time, they had ordered another round and I wasn't planning on drinking. The other girl who wasn't occupied in conversation decided to join me and we made our way down to the bridge spanning the wide canal. Eventually, we convinced the other girls to get going and leave the men to their drunkenness. Unfortunately, they weren't ready to end the night and followed us around the water to another bridge. We used the Merlion as an excuse to ditch the men (which sort of worked), and on our way there, found a taxi to shove them into. We still made it to the Merlion for a few minutes, took pictures with the evening lights, and with a hop, skip, and a jump we were back at our very sketch hotel.