Ralph's Confessions

Ralph's Confessions

“You know, honestly, I don´t know why I do it anymore,” he stated in his interview Friday afternoon. “I used to do it for the good feelings, the pats on the back, the compensation, the food, ahhh, the food… that was the best.”

He paused in nostalgia, looked out the window, then continued.

“But now, that’s all over, the delicious snacks… they’re gone. I don’t even get a real thank you, just some half ass pat on the shoulder – out of obligation.”

He looked down wearily.

“You know… I still find myself drooling over that… that stupid tennis ball. I even pick it up first now, dragging it over to them, initiating the hard work. I just, I just don´t know why I still do it… all for nothing.”

And as Pavlov’s great great-grandson finished his interview, Ralph just sat there, wondering how he’d gotten to such a place as this, deep in tennis ball addiction, without the satisfaction of any meaty treats.

dedicated to my Grandpa, his stories always keep me going.

And Lucky, my trusty pal.

                                                                                                                       

Raelynne Hale

Madrid, 2014

Nursery Rhyme Politics

‘He’s a strong man, a great leader and one heck of a bareback rider. Nearly as good as me in all three departments. I’m a little better of course, but wow. Even I’m a little sore after all the riding we did,’ exclaimed Trump, describing his trip to Russia. - David Marrs, The Daily Squat

Nursery Rhyme Politics
Donald and Putin sittin’ in a tree.
K – I – S – S – I – N – G 
First comes love, then comes hate
We’re all gonna make America Great!

Build that wall, make that call
Put up another shopping mall.
It’s no worry, we’re not in trouble
Let’s all live in a giant bubble.

Donald likes peeing, Putin likes eating
Our economy’s gonna take a beating.
You’re not worried, I’m not scared
I’d just rather be eatin by a bear.

But have no fear, our president is…… is…… 
is…… is…… is…… is…… is…… is…… is……
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is…… is…… is…… is…… is…… is…… is………………..


Original post at https://theprose.com/post/127475/nursery-rhyme-politics
Photo courtesy of http://www.dailysquat.com/donald-trump-vladimir-putin-enjoy-riding-bareback-together/ 

Distanced by Time

I looked up and met your eyes, falling deeply into the abyss. My spirit reached out, and for only a second, I knew you, all of you. 

Sorry, I muttered as I moved out of the way for you to enter and bowed my head, soaking in the chocolate scent of your eyes. The dark brown I’d always known, but would never meet. What’s your name, I thought, but never uttered. As I checked my phone and ran to my next meeting, your essence evaporated into nothingness. I could feel, as I began to drift back into this reality, that our parallel existences would never collide again. I wondered who you were and what your voice sounded like – Did it sound as beautiful as your coy smile? 

You would never return to my reality and I wasn’t even sure that you existed. Why were you here, my perfect stranger? Why had you come to our realm? I learned in that instance of your knowledge and power. I learned in that moment of my minute and unimportant self. I realized that ours was not the only lifetime. I discovered that time travel was happening and you were on your way home. 


Written for a theprose.com challenge for week 55. If you like it, please follow the link below to give me a like there and repost my entry!

Original Post:
https://theprose.com/post/127558/distanced-by-time

#theprose #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit

Tragically Beautiful

“I can´t handle your kindness.” The words fell out, one piece at a time, as if being chopped up into chewable parts.

He didn't know what to say, or to do. She was crying uncontrollably and through sobbing, real deep silent sobs, there was a pain and sorrow that couldn't be expressed in words that lingered.

What did they do to you? He so desperately wanted to help her, to understand the tears so that he could stop them, but he dared not to ask. He feared it would literally break her, she was so frail in that moment. No one was so tragically beautiful.

He sat down on the bed next to her, and pulled her into his arms and out of her vacant fortress. He could feel that she was gone, emotionally somewhere else. He felt like he was losing her, she was cold and stiff, as if the fear and sadness were sucking the life out of her, and he panicked.

“Hey…. Hey!” he shook her. 

“Come back to me,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.

She couldn't come back. She looked down from her dark empty room and stared at her body in his arms. She had never been happier. And because she knew she'd never be able to handle losing that, she turned, and continued walking into the chamber of darkness she had created so long ago.

She died happy in his arms as he shed his first tear.

Día 1 - Miedo

Tengo miedo de que vengan por mi cerebro, mis brains.

No es que soy muy especial, ni nada, solo que tienen un apetito feroz, y a ellos les gusta romper el cráneo y chupar el cerebro humano. Ni es una exquisitez - es su plato principal. 

We are no longer the hunters, but the hunted. 

Ahora pienso convertirme en vegetariano, ya que los entiendo más a los pobres animales que matamos para comer. Los pobres animales que comemos nosotros, ni se dan cuenta de que sus días están contados. Por lo menos, entiendo que vengan por mí. 

Quizá... lo tienen mejor, porque no saben lo que va a venir y pueden vivir tranquilos. Yo no vivo tranquilo. 

Lo más horroroso es que esos cabrones se parecen a nosotros. 

En nadie se puede confiar, ni en los amigos, ni en tu hermano, ni en tu mamá. Los vi chupando el cerebro de la madre de mi mejor amigo, no quiero que lo hagan a mi mamá. 

Mi mamá es una santa, la vi matar algunos de estos cabrones que vienen a comer a su propia gente. Los vi desde cerca. Chequeé de que ya no se levantarían nunca más, y que ella, la madre de Ricky, no se estaba convirtiendo también en una rabiosa zombie. Sus ojos son rojos, como si no duermen. Sus manos son grises, como si no se sienten el calor ni el frío. Sus cuerpos están deformados, y sus dientes... sus dientes... todavía con trozos del cerebro de la señora Guadalupe Flores... 

Quiero pensar que lo invento. 

Quiero volver a los días de Netflix an' chill. 

Quiero estar tranquilo. 

No puedo estar tranquilo...