Your essence is DELICIOUS.

The Bloggess

Conversation at an estate sale filled with extremely questionable things:

Me:  I’m pretty sure I need this doll.

It's like "Eyes Without a Face," except just the opposite. It’s like that song “Eyes Without a Face,” except just the opposite.

Victor:  Nope.  Nope.  Nope.  All of my nopes.

me:  Sir, how much is the doll with no eyeballs?

Estate sale guy: It’s $75.

me: Seems pricey.  But, hang on…does that include all the human souls trapped inside it? Because that might actually be a good value.

Estate sale guy:   It comes with an extra set of doll clothes.

Victor: Does it also come with an exorcism?

Guy:  It’s real old.  They don’t make ’em like that anymore.

Victor: Well, thank God for that.

Victor said I couldn’t bring her home even though I tried to show him how lovely she was:

"Give us a cuddle.  And some blood." “Give us a cuddle. And some blood.”

Then Victor made me put her down, but when I went in the…

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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