Sunday, September 19, 2004


The man lived with his wife right in the middle of the river. Certainly it was wet, and the walls kept washing away, but it had its charm. His wife's friends wore bikinis when they came to visit, and when one of them stayed the night, who could tell how a sudden current might shift her into his arms? On days when his spouse had no company, he whiled away the hours swimming and skipping stones across the front lawn. She was usually too busy chasing water moccasins out of the cellar to have much fun herself. Of course she never let him forget his poor judgment in purchasing the riverside lot unseen. And he certainly regretted it himself one night, as she rolled him out of bed and over the waterfall.

Story #38

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Herr Doktor: Thanks for the link to Laughter is the Spackle of the Soul, I appreciate that! To answer the question, what your posting one picture and one story a day verses my posting five pictures a month says is -- you have a little more time than me and fewer concerns about webspace storage, but no less creativity (possibly more). Keep up the good work, you have some great material and scribblings.
«mushroom»
http://spackle.saysomethingcryptic.com

Robyn said...

*chuckles and smiles* You do have a whimsy about you.