Calm Tensions, more Fiction in 58
It is an interesting time at The Tension.
Not much in the way of excitement (or excrement) has befallen me. It’s been downright…calm.
Oh, there’s always some turbidity in the general vicinity, but as for right now, my trouser legs remain dry and pressed.
Frankly, I don’t know what to make of it.
The calm has allowed me to think of plots and pieces of fiction.
I scribble ideas, I try dialogue out in normal conversation.
(Some of you have been left to wonder – in a general WTF!?!? kinda way – why I wrote about erotic asphyxiation. Well, I was reading “Heartsick” by Chelsea Cain, which features a very nasty female serial killer. That, and it was part of an actual conversation I had recently. I have interesting friends, what can I say? I had to Google erotic asphyxiation, by the way. And, yeah, no thanks.)
Anyway, with nothing particularly horrid going on, it’s probably best to continue making shit up. And give you another installment of Fiction in 58:
Hormonal Women
The skin above his elbow is crimson, where she slaps him.
She does this to make a point.
“I’m hungry hormonal (slap) and I’m craving a burger (slap); it was different from last week (slap) when I was simply hormonal (slap, slap).”
He thinks to ask her to stop. But it would mean the end of her touch.
Not much in the way of excitement (or excrement) has befallen me. It’s been downright…calm.
Oh, there’s always some turbidity in the general vicinity, but as for right now, my trouser legs remain dry and pressed.
Frankly, I don’t know what to make of it.
The calm has allowed me to think of plots and pieces of fiction.
I scribble ideas, I try dialogue out in normal conversation.
(Some of you have been left to wonder – in a general WTF!?!? kinda way – why I wrote about erotic asphyxiation. Well, I was reading “Heartsick” by Chelsea Cain, which features a very nasty female serial killer. That, and it was part of an actual conversation I had recently. I have interesting friends, what can I say? I had to Google erotic asphyxiation, by the way. And, yeah, no thanks.)
Anyway, with nothing particularly horrid going on, it’s probably best to continue making shit up. And give you another installment of Fiction in 58:
Hormonal Women
The skin above his elbow is crimson, where she slaps him.
She does this to make a point.
“I’m hungry hormonal (slap) and I’m craving a burger (slap); it was different from last week (slap) when I was simply hormonal (slap, slap).”
He thinks to ask her to stop. But it would mean the end of her touch.
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