4 thoughts on “Weekend Quickie #240

  1. “I was all filled with alacrity this morning, brisk and cheerful, ready for a great day outdoors in my favorite part of British Columbia and now here we are in the middle of nowhere because you can’t just pee behind any old bush, it has to be as far away from civilisation as possible!” screamed Dave at Fiona his fiancée.
    “There were people there! I can’t pee when someone is watching!” She crouched down in a large bush a few meters from a lake’s edge.
    “So that’s why we had to walk for over an hour? Because a few fishermen were sleeping?”
    “Yes! Is there anyone about now?”
    “No.” Dave looked across the flat surface of water and saw a lodge. He took out his binoculars and zoomed in. There, putting clothes out on a line was a woman. He focused in closer and couldn’t believe his eyes. A gypsy, and not only a gypsy but the most beautiful gypsy he’d ever seen, even more beautiful than the one in Disney’s animation movie, ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’. A pulchritudinous gypsy.
    “Dave? Can I pee? Is anyone about? Dave?”
    “Sure, knock yourself out.” He walked away, heading for the lodge.

  2. So here I was, at my first writers-in-residence program and fresh out of a bad marriage. The residency I’d planned on, the divorce not so much. On the road up to the lodge, my Volvo sputtered, shuddered convulsively and then died. I walked the rest of the way, dragging my suitcase behind me, I left the keys in the ignition.

    “Namaste and welcome to the Aligned Chakra & Crystal Harmonics Lodge and Vegetarian Buffet” chimed the patchouli scented girl behind the counter with great alacrity. Clasping her hands, she bowed deeply and said namaste. I made a mental note to include a pulchritudinous gypsy in my next novel.

    I returned an awkward bow only to smack my head on the reception desk, leaving a big dollop of greasy sweat on the counter and a bump on my forehead. Embarrassed, I looked to the pool of sweat, back at the girl, and at once tried to mop it up. Only managing to smear it further. Sheepish, I leaned forward on my elbows and rested my arms on the counter covering the sweat puddle. An acceptable out for both us, she smiled and bowed namaste again.

    Flinging her multicolored dreadlocks out of the way as she handed me the resort brochure and menu a single purple dreadlock snagged on the tiny bodhisattva charm glued onto her gel-nails; each fingernail with a different incarnation of Buddha. She swore under her breath like a sailor but unable to free the dreadlock, she reached beneath the counter and came up with a pair of craft scissors. Cutting free the errant dread but leaving the tiny Buddha sporting a miniature purple afro.

    Now it was my turn to smile and bow namaste at this acceptable out.

  3. Single-minded

    Being the resident lodge cat was pure gravy train for Tom. The guests loved him and all his deep black fur. They would leave saucers of milk out for him; pet him; let him inside their tents; play with him; and miss him when he wasn’t around. The only real problem with this gig was … he was lonely. The lodge was positioned on an island, and Tom hated the water. Oh, he could leave via the one bridge, but that was clear over to the other side of the island, and Tom was too much of a “lap-cat” for that kind of effort.
    Early one morning, Tom was strolling along the water’s edge when he heard the most alluring sound to ever land upon his ears. He stopped and strained to hear it better. It was so alluring he began pacing up and down the beach. Tom spied a gorgeous female cat on the far shore. She was a wanderer, a free-spirit, and breathtaking. Tom was so enthralled by her rapturous scent that he absentmindedly strayed into the lake with such alacrity he didn’t even notice he was swimming across the water.

    Tom didn’t return for several days and every few weeks; when the female’s siren song would lure him, he would dive into the water and disappear again.

  4. Hikers plagued Barsali Agre in the summer months. One group left and another crested the ridge above the lake. His picaresque little cabin at the edge of the water drew them, inevitably. They made their way down the craggy trail to torment him.

    These were no different. They violated his sanctuary without a care.

    “Hello.” The boy raised a sun-bronzed arm to Barsali in greeting. The girl stopped to inspect his shrine.

    “She’s very beautiful.” The gilt frame kissed her fingertips. “Who is she?”

    “Naomi, don’t be rude.”

    “Oh.” She lingered there. “Hello.”

    “Well, what is it then? You need directions?”

    The girl took a purple aster from behind her ear and placed it on the shrine.

    “We were hoping—”

    “We’ll keep going,” the girl interrupted. She pulled her friend back to the trail. “Thank you.”

    Barsali’s heart contracted with each step the girl took.

    “My wife,” he called, abruptly. “She was my wife.”

    The pair paused. Naomi rushed down the hill toward him with sudden exuberance and pressed her lips into his weathered face.

    “Take care.” A whisper, and off she ran back up the hill to the boy.

    Barsali touched the tears she left behind. “Take care.”

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