Archive for February, 2012

Roy Buss

Roy Buss ran away as fast as he could. He’d be whipped n’ tied to a hogs back before he’d go back there. Jasmine green was a basket case if he ever did see one. A man like him didn’t play with dolls. A man like him wrestled, got dirty, and spit. Roy Buss wouldn’t for one second let anyone think he was sissy.

Roy Buss was a man.

Roy Buss ran his long fingers across his face. The corners of his mouth took their sweet time, tugging up towards his brow. The red hairs that were just spotting across his face were just poking their way through. Roy Buss didn’t care that there parts that were as patchy as his Grams back yard garden, he knew it would all fill soon. Just took a bit of patience.

Roy Buss was a man.

Roy Buss picked his way through the woods that surrounded his house. Since he was armed with a sturdy brown stick he felt invincible. Raising the stick to his eye level he took aim at a butterfly that dared come in his path. The butterfly was perched on a flower.

It stared at him and he stared at it.

Sweat began to bead on his upper lip. He inhaled like his Pa had taught him so he could properly absorb the kick of his weapon.


He watched the butterfly flutter away in terror. Roy Buss wasn’t scared of nuthin but everything was sure enough scared of him.

Roy Buss was a man.

Roy Buss went deeper into the woods, brandishing his stick at trees, birds, and small bees. The trees threw their leaves up in surrender. The birds chirped pleas for their lives. The bees buzzed, busily backing away. Nothing could touch Roy Buss. Nothing could harm him…

A twig cracked to his left.

Roy Buss jumped and people bumps raised themselves to each surface of his skin. He whirled around, weapon ready for action. Early Grey poked his head from behind the tree, raising his milk jug above his head in surrender. Roy Buss let his breath out in relief. Earl Grey grinned and the two greeted each other as men do. Roy Buss and Earl Grey began punching one another in the arm.

Roy Buss and Early Grey were men.

Racing to the pond they discarded their clothes in a hurry and dove into the water. Early Grey filled up his empty milk jug and poured water all over the top of Roy Buss’s head. Roy Buss and Early Grey were so busy splashing they didn’t notice the small figure that crept in the shadows, collecting pants, shirts, and undergarments. Only the socks and the shoes were left.

Jasmine Green smiled to herself.

“Oh Boys,” she called.

Roy Buss and Earl Grey crouched deeper in the water. Snowflake curls dancing in the breeze as she laughed and twirled away. Roy Buss and Earl Grey watched the retreating form of Jasmine Green and knew it would be a cold walk home.


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Jasmine Green

Jasmine Green’s tiny hands throbbed. Her  tiny pink brush lay on its side looking even smaller against the expanse of her vanity. Early Grey was not her prince charming.

No Sir.

Jasmine Green’s daddy always said that if a boy didn’t make you feel like one million buck-a-roos  he was a frog, not a prince. Jasmine Green believed him.

Stupid Early Grey.

Earl Grey had dumped his disgusting, warm Milk all over her Hair. Earl Grey said the Milk matched her hair and that the Milk and Hair should therefore be best friends forever.

Jasmine Green’s Brain in her Head disagreed. Jasmine Green’s Hair was never meant to be friends with the Moo Juice.

No Sir.

Early Grey could run himself back home as far as she was concerned.

Jasmine Green’s dark blue eyes flashed fire in the mirror. She was practicing the look she would give Earl Grey the next time she saw that nasty toad. Her cotton candy pink lips pursed together and an …

“Urrrrrrhhhrrrr!” escaped her small self.

Jasmine Green’s feet turned and led her outside. It was here Jasmine Green could play with her friends the Butterflies. They always made Jasmine Green feel better when Pin Head Earl Grey was such a Ninny. Jasmine Green watched the Whites, the Blues, and the Greens flutter from flower to flower. Jasmine Green wondered why Butterflies were called Butterflies. She had never seen a Stick of Butter Fly EVER.

No Sir.

Jasmine Green’s white skin matched the fluffy clouds that played shape making all day above her Head. The shapes shifted and changed and Jasmine Green knew that the heavens were painting pictures just for her. Jasmine Green sang songs to these things that changed form and waved her hands above her head, spinning, snowflake curls billowing and settling.

Jasmine Green’s scabby knees knelt in the green shoots that rose from the ground. Jasmine Green’s eyes searched until she saw small Earthy Wormies burrowing their agile bodies into the dirt. Jasmine Green was amazed by how the Wormie Worms not only pushed but ATE the dirt. Jasmine Green’s Momma once yelled at her when she tried to eat a mud pie. Jasmine Green’s Momma didn’t like that one bit.

No Sir.

Jasmine Green’s Heart lifted. Jasmine Green sang and the notes swirled over and above her Head. Jasmine Green loved it when the Sun smiled down at her and the Wind tickled her Nose. Her small Hands reached out and let one of the Flutterers land on her tiny Finger. Jasmine Green’s Momma called from the house, “Jasmine Green, would you like a glass of milk?” Jasmine Green’s Blue Eyes flew open .

No Sir.

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Earl Grey

Early Grey ‘s short stubby legs grabbed each stair one by one. Once at the bottom of stairs he flew into the kitchen. The milk was out of the refrigerator and into his fists. He lifted the glass to his lips and drank. His throat made sounds of appreciation. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Milk was the ultimate breakfast.  Not just any milk, Whole Milk, NOT skim or 1%, goat’s milk, none of those sissy imposters. He spat on those who partook in the activity of the drinking of soy milk. Whole milk was the reason for his excellent stature and muscular build. He began pumping his fists in the air so as to build momentum for what was going to happen this fine day.

Early Grey’s short stubby legs ate the carpet as he skidded around the corner and shuffled to a stop in front of the hall way mirror. Fuzzy dark brows crawled across the bridge of his nose, the ends furling out like a butterfly waiting to take flight. He wiggled them up and down, grinning like it was school picture day. He impressed himself with the high count of teeth that claimed residence in his gums.  All teeth but the third one from the right was there. He began to flex his most impressive biceps. They rose and fell like waves in an abandoned kiddie pool.

Early Grey’s short stubby legs ate up the pavement as he ran. Sweat melted off his brow like butter dripping from the spoon to popcorn.  People on the streets would often stop and stare at Early Grey as he ran. He knew they were astonished by his looks. He was a most dapper person to look at.  His bitten nails dug into the glass of the jug he still clutched in his hands.

Early Grey never left the house without his jug of milk.

Early Grey’s short stubby legs stood still. He lifted the milk and as he drank the frothy bubbles ran like small waterfalls, making the yellowed cotton that clung to each bulge and ripple on his back and abdomen, white again. The bus people stared. He stared back, wiggling his brows in a most intimidating manner.

Early Grey stood alone, glass jug empty.

Earl Grey’s short stubby legs began to shake. He had been standing without moving for a time so long that 17 busses had passed him by.  Early Grey knew he could not sit. Sitting was for weak baby men. Sitting was for little girls in pink lacy dresses. He was not weak. He was stronger than Everest. He was as long lasting as the mouth wash that fought off the germs that took up residence in his Mouth.

Early Grey was waiting.

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