March dribbles - 16

Alone downstairs, window taped against the cold, night falling, eyes fixed to computer, the only sound is tapping keys. Then, hop…

Tug my ear-lobe; what? Hope it’s not family home for food. A frog spits up at me. Spiteful, I lob it at—closed—window. Frog becomes prince, demands dinner.

Comments

Alina said…
LOL, I enjoyed this one! XO
March 23, 2011 at 8:55 AM
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