Dangerous Bohemian

by pjmcbride

…a description of my fashion style, taken from a magazine I remember not the name of. I actually had to combine 2 designations, since they had trouble seeing how someone could love rose prints and leather. But hey, every rose has its thorn, as I heard once.

“Are you ever going to finish my story?” Nick asks, gently nudging me (although when it’s a scaly snout filled with sharp teeth, how gentle can it be?).

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t really care one way or the other.”

“Did you know your tail grows longer every time you lie?”

He looks at it doubtfully–it is quite long–then glowers at me, laying his ears back. “I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.” Now we’re both lying. Luckily, I don’t have a tail. But I figure I should finish the story for him before everyone forgets how it started.



I put a Walgreen’s bag down for a moment while I dug for some change, or my phone to see what time it was, or something similarly inconsequential, and when I looked up, it was gone. What did it contain? A box of tissues. “Oh, great, I can use these!” I picture the Kleenex thief saying. Speaking of which, CVS has assorted razors out of the package on cords so you can pick them up and test their heft without stealing them. Instead, people steal the blades off them.

But what might get my vote for best proof of Original Sin is that, if you leave a vacant building unattended for any length of time, it will be vandalized. Even though there’s nothing to be gained by it.