Thursday, September 23, 2004


The boy carried his girlfriend around with him wherever he went. Whether on the beach, to parties, in buses. Even as a child she preferred to be carried instead of walking herself. It had become a habit that was impossible to break. Her parents were to blame, of course, but they had washed their hands of the whole affair and moved permanently into their summer home in Florida. When it came time for the boy to end the relationship with the girl he could not just put her down. He would have to wait for another boy to hand her over to.

Story #42

4 comments:

Indeterminacy said...

Speaking of myths, I think you sense what I went through last night to write this. If you recall Sisyphus' punishment in Hades of rolling the stone up a hill, and each time he's about to reach the top, it rolls away from him, that's how it was with my ideas. I struggled to find a photo and an idea and anytime I thought something was great it turned into nonsense when I wrote it down. Finally I thought I had something but when I ran it by my muse, the girl I married, she said it was a cliche, and she was right. Then I read her this one, which was one of the ones I had rejected, and she couldn't stop laughing. She said it was good enough to post. (You didn't think I was doing all this without a muse, did you?)

Anonymous said...

Your muse must be Erato. And I have had relationships where it seemed like your metaphore: I carried a woman until I had to give her to someone else... though usually it was like the average baby, who when they are tired of being held by one person they wag their arms and make noises signalling they want to be passed along. The girl above seems to be the sort who is happy as long as she is carried; a human sack of potatoes. Good caption, it fits the picture well. :)

« mushroom » Laughter is the Spackle of the Soul

Indeterminacy said...

Thanks for that feedback, mushroom. I must have been lucky with my relationships. All my girlfriends left me on their own initiative. Have to be very good to my muse.

Rev. Kimberly Rich said...

I figured you had a muse. I am not a muse, however I am usually amused. hehe. sorry the pun had to be played out to its bitter end. I liked this one and laughed a good deal when I read it, just before I ran out the door to work. You started my day right once again lol. Who needs coffee, I have Inde.