Tag Archives: bed

1480. Pillow case

Contessa was a tiny worm, undetectable, that lived inside the pillow on Nerissa’s bed. Every night, Contessa would wiggle her way out through a little hole in the corner of Nerissa pillow, crawl into Nerissa’s ear, and enter her brain. Once in the brain, Contessa would rearrange all the new information that Nerissa had gathered during the previous day.

This was a necessary thing for Contessa to do, because Nerissa was forever planning to air the pillow in the sunshine the next day. Nothing would kill a worm off quicker than warm sunlight. Hence, for Contessa, deleting data related to the airing of the pillow was paramount. It was self-preservation.

Over the years, Contessa grew longer. Now, when she entered Nerissa’s brain, Contessa’s tail hung several inches out of Nerissa’s ear. These days, there seemed so much more information in Nerissa’s brain to process. Some nights, Contessa never finished sorting and deleting. And then the inevitable happened…

In her sleep, Nerissa scratched her ear, and in doing so, Contessa split in half. For a while the dislocated bottom half wiggled away, but Contessa’s top half panicked and scrambled back to the safety of the pillow.

Because the job of sorting was unfinished, Nerissa remembered the next day to air the pillow. Contessa’s top half died in the warmth of the sun.

It didn’t matter though, for Contessa’s bottom half was safely hiding in Nerissa’s other pillow. Her life’s work would begin the following night.

1323. Emmeline’s lazy morning

It was Sunday morning. Emmeline’s alarm went off. The clock was telling her to get out of bed and go to church. Instead Emmeline turned over and snuggled sleepily into her warm bed.

Later she thought she would get up and make a lovely Sunday brunch. When she got out of bed she hit her head on the bedpost and died. Emmeline went straight to hell, where she will roast in a burning fire for eternity.

So much for snuggling up in a warm bed.

Poem 46: I think I left my wallet

(The poetic form selected for this week is the French triolet).

I think I left my wallet underneath a bed.
I wish I could remember whose bed belongs to who.
Was it Cynthia’s or Brenda’s? Jill’s or even Fred’s?
I think I left my wallet underneath a bed.
Meg’s perhaps or Elsie’s? Jane’s or Winifred’s?
I really hope it’s Moira’s; I liked the kitschy-coo.
I think I left my wallet underneath a bed.
I wish I could remember whose bed belongs to who.

1107. Murder

When Benjamin got out of bed that morning he had little idea he was going to be murdered that very day. It was six thirty. He rose, dressed, and made a morning coffee. It was to be a busy day.

He read the paper. He checked on any sent messages. He had breakfast. After that, he got in his car and drove to town. He had a list of things to do as long as his arm.

Apart from groceries, he needed some paper napkins. They were so much cheaper to purchase at the “dollar shop”. Just plain white paper napkins were fine. He wasn’t throwing a birthday party! Then right in the “dollar shop” some youths gave him cheek. “What did he want napkins for? To wipe his bum?” Benjamin tried to ignore their taunts.

Then there was a new sliding bolt for his front door. The old one was loose, and it was possible to wiggle the door back and forth a bit. There had been a spate of burglaries over the last few days apparently, so it was a good idea to change the bolt.

Cat food! He almost forgot! He had to go back to the supermarket! He next called into the phone company to pay his monthly bill. There was a discount for paying promptly.

Back home he mowed the lawn and relaxed. He even had a little snooze in the afternoon. He had a little wine before dinner as he watched the news. After that he did the dishes, watched something else on television, and around ten thirty went to bed.

626. End of the bed

© Bruce Goodman 28 June 2015

626endofbed

Hailey and Malcolm lay in bed. It was a warm spring night; not overbearing, but mild enough to have the window wide open.

Hailey read a while, with Malcolm snoring beside her. She turned out the bedside light and snuggled down in the bed.

Around midnight Hailey felt something run across her feet. A rat? A mouse? She sat up with a start. She woke Malcolm. There was nothing to be seen. They fell asleep again.

The next morning, at the end of the bed, there was a cat. She had given birth to three kittens in the night.

Whose cat it was, they had no idea. It wasn’t their cat. They hated pets.

Malcolm put the kittens in a sack with a couple of boulders and dropped them from a bridge into the river.