Mel Finishes the Week

His week at the coin-operated laundromat finally over, Mel wished for nothing more, after a meal of mac & cheese, than a night of uninterrupted sleep.

So, now in REM sleep, he was able to dream, to put his Uncle's laundromat behind him.

To recover.

But what the...

It was his Uncle Leo, bursting into Mel's dream of sleeping on laundry. There’s something pleasant about lying on towels and underwear at your work.

“I don't pay you to sleep. Take this mop, Mel.”

All that night he spent mopping.

Mopping and mopping linoleum until the morning, when he awoke exhausted.

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

I See

I paint you by numbers, capture your features one by one… from the fair Irish skin; to the coal-black hair; to the rich, ruby lips; and the fiery-, emerald-green eyes.

I reach for the palette of paint and thrust my brush like a mop into a bucket and swish it around. The color washes your face with only shades of grey. The numbers on the canvas do not add up. I am left only with a monotone portrait of shadow and sadness.

Betrayed, my grip clenches. I see, I know your colors. I see, I know your lack of them.

From Guest Contributor Keith Hoerner

Maximum Adrenalin

Jordan Acker feared nothing.

He attacked danger with his shirt off. He used any tool at hand as a weapon, whether a mop or a bottle of mustard, and his kung fu skills sent would-be criminals running and impressed every club bouncer and traffic cop he encountered. His heart beat pounded in his chest more loudly than his fists bounced off the walls. When he drove, people dove out of his way lest they be heedlessly run down. He was the latest breed of action star.

At least that's what he felt like while on one of his cocaine binges.