The Sprocket

A tooth broke off a sprocket of a bicycle once. It made a small chinking noise hitting the street but the rider kept riding.

The sprocket tooth said, “Too bad, I liked that bicycle, but maybe being on my own will be easier; plus, I’ll be free of the other teeth, and that awful chain.” And the tooth went about being a bicycle himself.

But being a bicycle when you’re just a sprocket tooth is harder than it looks. A storm came and swept the tooth into a storm drain; it was lost forever. That bike never ran as smoothly.

From Guest Contributor Henry Eutaw

Her Weary Madness

There she goes again, completely absurd. Nothing she says is true or worthwhile. But she's livid, wreaking havoc on all of us, destroying our mood and self-worth over invented situations; she, the perpetual victim.

The little guy is so young; does he realize this isn't normal? Should I calm her? Argue? Agree? It doesn’t matter I should know, after 17 years. I escape momentarily…is there a normal reality beyond this, a calmer, serene existence? Or am I fabricating a comforting utopia?

Tomorrow, she won't apologize, or even remember this madness. But it’s real and I must stay to protect them.

From Guest Contributor Henry Eutaw