Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

I’m your best friend said the voice behind her, before her, beside her. Best friend, it echoed around her, inside her then left  without her.

It’s not cricket if you don’t shout Howzat but in space no one hears you scream. He threw the box at the antenna, knocked off the top, Howz…

“You pushed” “You pulled” “Your fault” “No yours” “We’re trapped” “We will die and nobody shall save us” “We shall die if no one will save.”

The blackguards have painted the pine trees again evil men but tomorrow I see the pine trees have painted the blackguards in Halloween green.

She lived for tweets, arms became wings, typed messages with claws. Now she alone knows all, your dreams and thoughts revealed; her super-e.

Not so remarkable; he planned to stand where she’d lain, two feet on her grave. But incoherent misunderstanding ruled. He feasted. She rose.

Remarkably alive, she who had died, returned from her recent grave, incoherent as ever. I still couldn’t understand a word, which was why...

You must have wonderful flowers in your yard said my friend, but I don’t. I just photograph each one as it appears and post it on Instagram.

Misreading Facebook: groups make it easier to share with friends, family & termites. But are termites really a team? Friend or foe, or both?

Betwixt the planets & the stars, a darkness waits with beating heart, narrating time itself betwixt the ending & the start; ‘tis not so far.

Sometimes he worried she’d talk him to death, going on about planets and stars, then betwixt one word & next, his alien talked him to death.

Ride yer ‘oss t’Banbury cross t’see fine lady ‘pona white ‘oss wi’rings on fingers, bells on toes she’ll ‘ave sarsaparilla wherever she goes for  https://www.facebook.com/groups/465369153574246/801224769988681/