Love and Weather

Love and Weather

By BR Chitwood

***

 Weather tomorrow: Blue Skies, soft

breezes and Sunshine!

Turn off spigot to troubling thoughts!

Believe in your dreams and attack the day!

Keep the smile in place – someone is nearby…

Love taps tenderly on your shoulder, and kisses your cheek…

A song plays loudly on a passing auto:

More dreams pass with a zephyr.

The Western sky spreads its beautiful

Panorama of colors…

There is no place on Earth that you would rather be.

Car horns honk blessings to the couple on a tree-lined mall

As they continue their lovers’ walk to their brighter future!

Hearts and Souls unite for this special day of Happiness!

*

BR Chitwood – June 15 2020

***

My 20 books in most genres with synopses, book cover pics, over 500 blog posts, Short Stories, Flash Fiction, and Poetry are on my WordPress Website…

My WordPress Website: https://www.billyraychitwood.com


Love and Weather

Love and Weather

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By BR Chitwood

***

 Weather tomorrow: Blue Skies, soft

breezes and Sunshine!

Turn off spigot to troubling thoughts!

Believe in your dreams and attack the day!

Keep the smile in place – someone is nearby…

Love taps tenderly on your shoulder, and kisses your cheek…

A song plays loudly on a passing auto:

More dreams pass with a zephyr.

The Western sky spreads its beautiful

Panorama of colors…

There is no place on Earth that you would rather be.

Car horns honk blessings to the couple on a tree-lined mall

As they continue their lovers’ walk to their brighter future!

Hearts and Souls unite for this special day of Happiness!

*

BR Chitwood – June 15 2020

***

My 20 books in most genres with synopses, book cover pics, over 500 blog posts, Short Stories, Flash Fiction, and Poetry are on my WordPress Website…

My WordPress Website: https://www.billyraychitwood.com

Or: https://www.brchitwood.com

  ***

The Author’s Mission

For Me, I Write

BR Chitwood

*

Since my mobile and turbulent childhood my head fills with the events and movements of the days, the emotions that come and stay with me until I write about them from some subliminal heart/mind connection the words flow onto the screen of my laptop. I accept them and allow them entry on the page – as though they were destined to be there, an outlet for the subtle joy and pain of the soul…it is my belief that all artistic endeavors come from that similar sort of tingling.

As some subscribers to my blog posts might allow, most of my writing has a ‘Romantic’ cant, from my murder mysteries (some taken from actual crimes) to genres with historical essence, love, poetry, murder, and current events. My writing heroes of the past are many – …Hemingway, Steinbeck, Crane, DeMille, Grisham, to name a few. For Poetry, my favorite is an ex-Priest named James Kavanaugh.

I have written twenty books, their ‘buy sites’, 375 blog posts written over the years, plus poetry and tribute pieces to Arnold Palmer and other notables. That Website/Blog site address is:

https://brchitwood.com

 I hope you will visit my website/blog, look over some of the book synopses, posts, poetry…perhaps you will find something you would like to read…

At least, I can hope!

Wishing all writers and readers my best wishes.

*

BR Chitwood – February 28, 2022

https://brchitwood.com

Author BR Chitwood’s Writing

By BR Chitwood

PLEASE VIEW

  1. You sleep while riding a ‘mare’ or ‘dreaming peacefully’. You awake in a ‘bad mood’, snack on quick and easy ‘coffee and toast’ (too much coffee!), and drive to your job – while your kidneys insist on your quick attention…
  2. You sit at your desk, work menial tasks and have your fanciful day dreams and ‘Romantic Thoughts’…
  3. You think of where you and your soulmate will vacation… perhaps a great resort in Aruba or an Ocean Cruise…
  4. Work ends for the day, and you go for cocktails at your favorite pub with your favorite lady…
  5. At home, feeling guilty, you open your laptop and resume writing the manuscript for your new novel…
  6. You take a break, check your E-Mail. There is your new blog message: “5-Star Reads in most genres – 20 books, some based on true crime, Short Stories, Flash Fiction – some books are related to true criminal events: https://brchitwood.com – Also, Romance and Suspense…”
  7. Ah, c’mon! Take a ‘tour’! There are some great books and writing at this website…
  8. If you are a reader, avid or not, you will enjoy the books’ synopses, blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, poetry.  
  9. ‘Thank you’ from the author – and good reading!

BR Chitwood – February 24, 2022

https://brchitwood.com

https://twitter.com@brchitwood

https://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

Conundrum Craziness

*

Conundrum Craziness

BR Chitwood

*

No!

Not, AOC!

Not, ‘Building Back Better’!

We waken in the morning…

Not, ‘Covid’ and mad Scientist…

We drink coffee, eat, go to work, or, retired from the ‘bee buzzing’, we read. go to our computers to display our ‘genius’ and/or idiocy, write blog posts or books, watch crazy news, read, settle into our favorite habits, find boredom preference in our routines…

After all, we are retired, no longer fighting AM and PM traffic…

We become habitual and wary of our existence…

Some political scenarios make us feel so uncertain about our world and day-to-day lives…

I look out the big windows by my office and see a clear blue sky, an inviting sun, a mountain, a pool, a relaxing seating area, and debate with myself whether or not to finish this post – actually, forgetting the original purpose for the post, other than more railing about our unpredictable political structure, the build-up of Russian troops on the border of Ukraine…

Easy decision…

Actually, the world has not changed all that much since I once cared to debate the political stature of our governments, their leaders, and the political tendencies of neophytes who would make our world so much better…

Hell, I’m poolside, not that anyone will be contacting me about anything I care about…

I look at my lovely wife! “Hey, milady, you going to read, play with your laptop, or you coming poolside with me?

*

BR Chitwood – February 3, 2022

*

Anyone interested can check out my 20 books, each book with synopsis and buy site, my 275 blog posts, my many Flash Fiction and Short Stories…

https://brchitwood.com

https://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

(Other author sites as well.)

Until the End

Until the End

BR Chitwood 

So, it seems I shall be ending this fascinating life adventure as I entered it, confounded by the sounds of jubilation and tears, yet, without a kindly grandmother slapping my rear end to bring the breath of life to a reluctant new birth in a small clapboard house in Appalachia, a saw mill hamlet of dirt roads and a railroad spur for bringing logs to the primary employer of most of its scant population of farmers, most of whom were in a prolonged ‘Great Depression’.

*

As a man ready for his final destiny, a man with precious little of consequence for the reader who might chance upon these few words I write here, the words will have little historic value or any other kind of value that would perpetuate a useful understanding except for some amusing and pathetic experiences. At best, the words herein have been written by many others facing their final breaths of air on this orbital craft that ended up with the name of ‘Earth’.

So, skipping over my apathetic problems with school and teenage acne, some good buddies, and a couple of young ladies I was too dull and dim-witted to approach, and an early entry into the United States Navy, marriage to a ‘Navy Wave’ with her own confused history, college, teaching, and emotional experiences that not only paralyzed me but would put me on the path of unrighteousness…yes, alcohol and lovely women of the night – indeed, a shameful and wonderful foray into an almost every night ‘Whoop-de-do’.

Mistakes of a shameful quality?  

A ‘big time’ Uh-Huh! Years of willful neglect to career and inner peace. Still, it was fun and disaster – now, you know where the phrase came from, wait for it! ‘Honkytonk-Heaven’ or, ‘Neon Madness’.

So much time wasted?

I suppose – but it was my life for a time. Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias wrote and performed the lyrics and music For All the Girls I’ve Loved Before. It is a song I should have written. In other words, I could not have written a better epilogue for my life.

 My good wife of nearly forty years has encouraged me in my writing efforts, always steadfast and loyal. She also with her love and unselfish nature brings a smile to each new day.

Somehow, in the aging process, I found the gift of writing, much of it venting moments of my life.

Twenty books – some based on true crimes, some in different genres, give glimpses into my life…Romance, Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Biography.

Short Stories,  FlashFiction., Poetry and over 375 Blog Posts!

*

Perhaps, I have atoned for some of my ‘low spots’ in life… Regardless, my writing speaks ‘Truth’, and it is my hope that readers can find in my books not only the joy of reading but some essence of inspiration. All my writing can be found at: https://brchitwood.com complete with synopses and Amazon Buy Sites.

Wishing everyone a happy and frustration-free 2022, with the scourge of Covid and Omicron all in our rearview mirrors.

What’s It All About?

‘What’s It All About’?

BR Chitwood

*

A good title for a song and an excellent title with which to blow your mind when you spend days and sleepless nights pounded with the news of our homicides, our robberies, our Wall Street accounts, our meager bank funds, our Cities’ daily decay with riots in the streets, and a state’s malfunctioning government are where so often its leaders find malfeasance and corruption  their easy games to play, our kids left to form their own games to play, boy/girl body explorations, and ‘toughies’ bullying the timid and weak among them, no adult supervising and/or the ‘Sitter’ busy with her own pleasures.

Sure, I know you’ve read about these sordid things before. The newspaper, radio, and television reports are rather common. I, too, was once a young pre-adolescent and played some of those unhealthy games…intuitively knowing the parents were not to know.

Now, I have lived a lifetime, seen our world grow and become modernized with knowledge piling on knowledge so fast we can barely keep up, and I can tell you – but, then, you already know – life in those faraway days was not so wholesome but not so suffocating as it is today, life managed and accepted more readily.

Today, I see a government warped with minds that would take away our Freedom and Liberty and move toward a world without form or shape, more impersonal, more chaotic, more dangerous, more demanding, a world without Democracy. Governments exist for the people and there are those who are ethically too few to admire and trust, thus worthy proposals for society often go to closed ‘Document Files’.

I look out my large window each day to the sky and go through my litany of thoughts: Where are we going as this gray world of doubt and confusion does its orbits? Is it my old age that makes it seem so? Am I listening to too much news, listening to opinions of people I have little respect for? I think of my children, my grand-children and ask myself: “What kind of world will they be living in years ahead?”

With an old man’s tears beginning, I close the laptop, lower my ‘Lazy Boy’ and take in long breaths of air.

BR Chitwood – 12/27/21

https://www.brchitwood.com

View author’s 20 books (with cover-pics and info).

View the author’s over 375 blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry.

Cogito Ergo Sum

What is Real?

by

BR Chitwood

*

‘Cogito Ergo Sum’!

You think, therefore, you are!

Or:

‘I think, therefore, I am’!

In the day when Philosophy might have had a more urgent importance and significance, I wonder if Descartes’ singular ‘Cogito’ utterance and treatise would be one of the most recognized phrases in school rooms around the world, particularly those rooms where hungry minds were more inquisitive about their world and their existence in it.

In my Appalachian world of youth, it would never have occurred to me to question my existence…there were enough ‘negatives’ in my early life to keep my mind swirling with confusion and doubts – no intention to gain sympathy, just depicting my early life when our country was going through some ‘trying times’…well, kind of like, NOW!

I can say with certainty that my mind has no problem accepting the fact that I ‘think’ and I ‘exist’! Those days still linger, still bring occasional thought-demons and over-think. Decisions, mistakes have been made in my life, but, overall, there has been happiness and love to offset the bad stuff.

Descartes had some important influence in my college education, made me more aware of my lack of knowledge.

The tiny thesis I am putting forth in this post is that my

problem these days is that I ‘think’ too much in lieu of looking at the beautiful Arizona sky, writing, enjoying life with wife, home, and our wonderful children. So, Descartes brought back to me some simplicity to my life.

Hopefully, I can pass on some of this trivial verbiage to those who can embrace this sequitur nonsense.

*

BR Chitwood – December 2, 2021

*

Please read synopses of my 20 books, read my over 375 blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry…

https://www.brchitwood.com

*

Follow me on Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com @brchitwood

Follow me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

Also, LinkedIn and other sites…

A Pimple on Her Cheek

A Pimple on Her Cheek

BR Chitwood

What beauty for the once lonely heart and idle mind to absorb, and, to Karma and its co-workers, thank you for bringing me this gift of the heart and soul – perhaps not the romantic at heart stories one might read about in a book of love clips and poetry, but could easily make those pages.

A major freeway was not the ideal and idyllic storybook place to begin love affairs, and I was one hungry candidate for a love affair with all the fairyland add-ons. Whether it was my fussy and outdated expectations of how an affair of the heart was to begin and guidelines that must be followed to nourish those marvelous moments, I knew when I saw the exasperated lady on the side of the freeway trying to manipulate a flat tire exchange, my initial thought was, ‘I have to help her. There were no ulterior motives to my stopping, knowing there was no appointment I needed to keep. no one waiting for me. My 1:00 o’clock Tucson meeting brought an end to my satisfying day. It was my turn to make another person feel not alone in time of need.

The lady heard me pull in behind her, lifted her body from the pavement, her hand still holding a tire-bolt tool. She cautiously gave me an incipient try for a smile. (She obviously kept abreast of bad news as well as the good news.)

“Please, don’t worry. You seem to need some help…”

She gave a slight eye movement of some doubt, so I spoke again. “Let’s do this: close your trunk lid. Get in your car and lock the doors. I will get your flat tire off and put the new tire on. I will then get in my car and leave. Are you agreeable to that?”

My eyes could have fooled me, but I thought I saw some tear-streaks on her lovely face.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke softly the words, but I heard her. “This is not an occurrence I have experienced, and it is not my intention to be rude.”

“I know, the world has put up some disclaimers to civility and people helping each other… I will stand right here while you close the trunk lid and get into your car and lock it. If you get hot in there, turn your motor on and get your air going – it will not take me that long to change your tires. Okay?”

There came a sudden calmness, and it seemed we both had some sort of kindred acknowledgement. She smiled, “Oh, I’m sorry to be so rude to someone who wishes to help me. Please, thank you, do come and change my tires, and I will be happy to pay you for your work…”

“No, no, there will not be any fees for my work…I’ll get you on your way before you know it. My name is Curtis Morley. May I ask your name?”

“Katherine Bruce, or, just, Kate, if that’s comfortable for you.”

“Kate is fine. Now, just move away so I can get your tires changed.”

Kate did a barely perceptible dip with her head and seemed now perfectly content with our situation.

We talked while I changed her tires, and it became a most enjoyable span of work and pleasure.

Kate was, of all the occupations in the Phoenix, AZ metroplex a Para Legal for Barnes and Dunlap, a firm with whom I worked occasionally. Talk of odd possibilities, I am an attorney with Morgan and Morley…

“Oh, my goodness. Do not tell me, but you are just coming from a meeting in Tucson on the Dexter Weeks case? Am I right?”

“I’ll be darn, this is absolutely nut stuff. With all the millions of people in the metroplex and, this chance meeting on Interstate 10…”

There was an easy transference in play here. I stood from my tire changing from time to time, faced Kate, and we talked easily. It had to be the same for Kate as we passed all the detours, all the mud puddles, became electrically fast in our mood shifts…and something else. In those few minutes we came as close as two people can come in such a short period of time.

Our eyes darted here and there as we talked, assessing our bodies, Kate at points lingering a bit long on my hair, just recently culture-cut, the angularity of my face, the hazel of my eyes, my well-built slender physique, kept that way with a multitude of exercises on a weekly basis.

The stunning assessment for me? Kate was absolutely beautiful with a bit of English accent, her skin so smooth to the point of perfection, her long length auburn hair that fell six inches from her shoulders, and her figure was an easy ‘Ten’ by any standard of measurement, visible when she turned and allowed her body to more firmly fit into wonderful nicks and crannies of her pants outfit.

*

So, with no shock to the readers, we became live-in lovers and have been in that magical place for two years now, with no demons on periphery trying to harm what our good God made perfect.

Well, except for the small pimple crisis on my love’s left cheek.

My life had its imperfections of the skin – a small outbreak of acne in high school that upset me, certainly not to an anxiety level onto which I placed it.

It was not the pimple so much that caused Kate’s nervous spells. She felt it was perhaps an omen of some kind, the first installment of some cataclysmic series of destructive omens in her life.

Now, I did mention she is English and can certainly, in true Anglo-Saxon form and bona fide heritage make cute little mountains out of cute little mole hills. Remember, they were the German inhabitants that arrived in England in the Fifth Century up to the Norman Conquest.

The pimple did not grow larger, but it did develop more talking points for my sweet Kate. The pimple became at its apex white with a red ring around it, then ugly yellow, but she would not let me squeeze it out, even with my teenage experience on the matter.

“Oh, you must truly hate me,” she would exclaim on the bear rug in front of the fireplace on a winter night.

“Oh, sweetheart, how could I ever hate the love of my life? Please, allow me to get a cotton ball, a bit of alcohol, no, no, not from your Manhattan. We will use the rubbing alcohol. I will most gently squeeze out that little white spot of ‘yuck’, put on the spot some soothing disinfectant, my little ‘star’ bandage, with soft kiss on top, and you will be rid of that pimple forever, no more to make home on your beautiful face… and the truth is, I’ve hardly noticed it being there… I’ve a great idea visiting my head – we can make a beauty mark out of that spot. What say you, my darling?”

“I say, ‘I’m cursed, having the man I love look upon me as a sorceress of some awful kind…oh, okay, get the stupid cotton ball, the medicine you plan to use, and put your ‘star bandage’ on the spot. Guess I have made as much hay with that as I can. You do still love me? You said…”

“Forever and any days beyond, my beautiful lady…you sure you don’t want to get married?”

“We can talk about that later. Go get your arsenal of pain and operate.”

“How did I get so lucky to find you on Interstate 10 – out of millions of people in the ‘valley of the sun’, and you chose me. I do so love you.”

“You damned well better…I don’t let just anybody pop my pimples.”

On our third anniversary I talked Kate into a tattooed mauve star for that spot where the pimple had the gall to inhabit for a short stay.

*

Short Story/Flash Fiction

by:

BR Chitwood – August 6, 2021

©A Pimple on Her Cheek

*

Please preview my books

https://brchitwood.com/a-few-book-reviews

Please follow me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com – @BR Chitwood

Please Color Me

ⓒPlease Color Me

By BR Chitwood

*

Please Color me 

Sad and blue

Before there was you…

Standing there,

A smile Warm and True,

Your eyes soft 

Shiny Cobalt green,

Your body boldly

Curved in poetic preen.

My luggage loudly 

Dropped to the airport tile 

And you laughed shyly

In my wild-eyed guile.

My only thought

Was in meeting you, 

And I stumbled 

Warily to your side

Knowing not what 

I might say or do.

In front of you  

I stood and my

Voice betrayed me…

With gallantry gone, 

I pulled you to me

And kissed you 

With all the passion 

I could muster…

Stepping back from 

My hasty affront, 

Your eyes twinkled

For a moment,

As if waiting for a sign…

Then, hastily you spoke:

“Your place or mine?”

We

Have

Been

Together

Now

For

Forty 

Years,

And,

These

Days,

We

Only

Travel 

By

Rail.

*

BR Chitwood – June 9, 2020

Please preview my books:

http://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog:

http://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

A Pimple on Her Cheek

Image art by: Andriyko Podilnyk – Unsplash.com


A Pimple on Her Cheek

What beauty for the once lonely heart and idle mind to absorb, and, to Karma and its co-workers, thank you for bringing me this gift of the heart and soul – perhaps not the romantic at heart stories one might read about in a book of love clips and poetry, but could easily make those pages.

A major freeway was not the ideal and idyllic storybook place to begin love affairs, and I was one hungry candidate for a love affair with all the fairyland add-ons. Whether it was my fussy and outdated expectations of how an affair of the heart was to begin and guidelines that must be followed to nourish those marvelous moments, I knew when I saw the exasperated lady on the side of the freeway trying to manipulate a flat tire exchange, my initial thought was, ‘I have to help her. There were no ulterior motives to my stopping, knowing there was no appointment I needed to keep. no one waiting for me. My 1:00 o’clock Tucson meeting brought an end to my satisfying day. It was my turn to make another person feel not alone in time of need.

The lady heard me pull in behind her, lifted her body from the pavement, her hand still holding a tire-bolt tool. She cautiously gave me an incipient try for a smile. (She obviously kept abreast of bad news as well as the good news.)

“Please, don’t worry. You seem to need some help…”

She gave a slight showing of some doubt, so I spoke again. “Tell you what: close your trunk lid. Get in your car and lock the doors. I will get your flat tire off and put the new tire on. I will then get in my car and leave. Are you agreeable to that?”

My eyes could have fooled me, but I thought I saw some tear-streaks on her lovely face.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke softly the words , but I heard her. “This is not an occurrence I have experienced, and it is not my intention to be rude.”

“I know, Maam, the world has put up some road-blocks to civility and our people helping each other… I will stand right here while you close the trunk lid and get into your car and lock it. If you get hot in there, turn your motor on and get your air going – it will not take me that long to change your tires. Okay?”

There came a calmness suddenly, and it seemed we both had some sort of kindred acknowledgement. She smiled, “Oh, I’m sorry to be so rude to someone who wishes to help me. Please, thank you, do come and change my tires, and I will be happy to pay you for your good work…”

“No, no, there will not be any fees for my work…I’ll get you on your way before you know it. My name is Curtis Morley. May I ask your name?”

“Katherine Bruce, or, just, Kate, if that’s comfortable for you.”

“Kate is fine. Now, just move away so I can get your tires changed.”

Kate did a barely perceptible dip with her head and seemed now perfectly content with our situation.

We talked while I changed her tires, and it became a most enjoyable span  of work and pleasure.

Kate was, of all the occupations in the Phoenix, AZ metroplex a Para Legal for Barnes and Dunlap, a firm with whom I worked occasionally. Talk of odd possibilities, I am an attorney with Morgan and Morley…”

“Oh, my goodness. Do not tell me, but you are just coming from a meeting in Tucson on the Dexter Weeks case? Am I right?”

“I’ll be darn, this is absolutely nut stuff. With all the millions of people in the metroplex and, this chance meeting on Interstate 10…”

There was an easy transference in play here. I stood from my tire changing from time to time, faced Kate, and we talked easily. It had to be the same for Kate as we passed all the detours, all the mud puddles, became electrically fast in our mood shifts…and something else. In those few minutes we came as close as two people can come in such a short period of time.

Our eyes darted here and there as we talked, assessing our bodies, Kate at points lingering a bit long on my hair, just recently culture-cut, the angularity of my face, the hazel of my eyes, my well-built slender physique, kept that way  with a multitude of exercises on a weekly basis.

The stunning assessment for me? Kate was absolutely beautiful with a bit of English accent, her skin so smooth to the point of perfection, her long length auburn hair that fell six inches from her shoulders, and her figure was an easy ‘Ten’ by any standard of measurement, visible when she turned and allowed her body to more firmly fit into wonderful nicks and crannies of her pants outfit.

*

So, with no shock to the readers, we became live-in lovers and have been in that magical place for two years now, with no demons on periphery trying to harm what our good God made perfect.

Well, except for the small pimple crisis on my love’s left cheek.

My life had its imperfections of the skin – a small outbreak of acne in high school that upset me, certainly not to an anxiety level onto which I placed it.

It was not the pimple so much that caused Kate’s nervous spells. She felt it was perhaps an omen of some kind, the first installment of some cataclysmic series of destructive omens in her life.

Now, I did mention she is English and can certainly, in true Anglo-Saxon form and bona fide heritage make cute little mountains out of cute little mole hills. Remember, they were the German inhabitants that arrived in England in the Fifth Century up to the Norman Conquest.

The pimple did not grow larger, but it did develop more talking points for my sweet Kate. The pimple became at its apex white with a red ring around it, then ugly yellow, but she would not let me squeeze it out, even with my teenage experience on the matter.

“Oh, you must truly hate me,” she would exclaim on the bear rug in front of the fireplace on a winter night.

“Oh, sweetheart, how could I ever hate the love of my life? Please, allow me to get a cotton ball, a bit of alcohol, no, no, not from your Manhattan. We will use the rubbing alcohol. I will most gently squeeze out that little white spot of ‘yuck’, put on the spot some soothing disinfectant, my little ‘star’ bandage, with soft kiss on top, and you will be rid of that pimple forever, no more to make home on your beautiful face… and the truth is, I’ve hardly noticed it being there… I’ve a great idea visiting my head – we can make a beauty mark out of that spot. What say you, my darling?”

“I say, ‘I’m cursed, having the man I love look upon me as a sorceress of some awful kind…oh, okay, get the stupid cotton ball, the medicine you plan to use, and put your ‘star bandage’ on the spot. Guess I have made as much hay with that as I can. You do still love me? You said…”

“Forever and any days beyond, my beautiful lady…you sure you don’t want to get married?”

“We can talk about that later. Go get your arsenal of pain and operate.”

“How did I get so lucky to find you on Interstate 10 – out of millions of people in the ‘valley of the sun’, and you chose me. I do so love you.”

“You damned well better…I don’t let just anybody pop my pimples.”

I do hope the readers get it: that my darling and I had such a perfect union she had to practice displeasure more in an artificial and teasing design…it was our way to live within our atavistic tendencies. If it was not ‘a pimple on the cheek’, it would be some other deeply embedded Germanic gift from her history – and we both enjoyed that kind of foreplay rather than actual traits of hate and distrust.

On our third anniversary I talked Kate into a tattooed mauve star for that spot where the pimple had the gall to inhabit for a short stay.

Short Story/Flash Fiction by:

BR Chitwood

©A Pimple on Her Cheek

*

Please preview my books:

http://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog:

http://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

 

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