A funeral & A strip joint
A funeral…
I was in a muse inspired braingasm when my Uncle passed away and I couldn’t stop writing to save my life.
I brought a small notebook, sat in the back and even though my sister nudged me in the ribs repeatedly, I put words on paper.
Yes, it was wrong as two left shoes, but as I said, I couldn’t stop.
A Strip Joint…
I was there to pick up a friend who was getting off of work, but she got offered to go to a private room for six hundred. She asked me to sit in the back room where the dancers got dressed while she spent an hour in the room. It wasn’t safe to sit in the parking lot so I did and when she was driving me home, gave me an extra hundred from the twenty she promised me because she made a little bit more than she thought in the room.
I sat in the corner and wrote.
What’s yours?
