There is an old Chines proverb " Don't expect others to keep your secrets if you can't keep them yourself.". It makes sense if you think about it. Secretly if we are telling others our private thoughts we must deep down want them to be exposed. If not wouldn't it be easier to keep them to ourselves? No one can keep

April 08

                 Cinderella Is Not Having A Ball!

   Cinderella gazed at her new goods with a melancholy satisfaction. She had not planned on becoming , as Madonna would say, a material girl. However, here she stood amongst he

r new treasures and wealth feeling the only kind of satisfaction she felt in months. Since her wedding, her life transformed into a bland blur of social activities and parades. She sat pretty as a picture throughout the events, while her husband's eyes scanned the audience for that smug ghoulish looking girl.  

  "Humph", she thought back disgruntled, "that little Snow White thinks she's so lovely with her fair skin, but let me tell you tan is in, pal

e went out of style ova a century ago."

Cindy took in a deep breath finally taking in the humor of her circumstances. The ca

lendar moved only four months since the grand wedding and now she sat alone amongst her latest purchases, while her husband gallivanted off serenading another woman. There were ways he could have been more discrete about his feelings. Did he have to sing out his feelings wherever he went? Did he have to pass notes through those little doves?

    Cindy found his lies less amusing than his actions. "Where are you going my love?" Cindy would ask her prince.

"Hunting", He quickly responded

"What are you hunting for?"

"Alligator

s", He would respond. Of course every self respecting French man knows no alligators can be found in the Riviera, but Cindy accepted his lies, afraid of returning to the rags and cinders she was accustomed to.

   "Perhaps," She thought, " I will find another to occupy my time too. That Prince Eric is looking mighty fine." Eric's tendency to go to sea for long periods of time made her wonder if he was up to something fishy, but still she could make a nice match. " I could learn to live at sea, after all who else could he admire at sea?"

Or perhaps Prince Philip would do for her. After all his little Aurora always seem

ed too tied to pay good

 attention to him. Cindy felt she could fill the void that sleepy head couldn't.

      Her own intentions filled her with guilt. As a little girl , Cindy dreamed of finding her prince charming. She would never have guessed that by some miracle her life would play out like some kind of storybook. For a time she thought it would, after the shoe slipped on her tiny foot and the prince whisked her away to his storybook castle.

       That little prissy came trotting over to Cindy's territory with her entourage of dwarfs scooping prince charming. The more she thought on it the angrier she became. Cindy had an idea, a wicked, vengeful, i

dea. She reached into her shopping bag and drew out an apple, a big delicious apple. She called on her fairy godmother to change her into something very different,very old and very wicked.

       June 08

               The Super Hero Of Smell

   I am the superhero of nervous Nellie's and sweating Sallies. I can sa

ve a person's date by keeping their underarms sweet under pressure. Those who dare step out of the house without 

me will pay the horrible price to my arch nemeses Body Odor. I am an essential part of every ones morning routine. Jocks and athletes should apply my sweet powder frequently during a game to keep the unappealing smell away.

     My home is in the congested medicine cabinet. I sit between the toothbrush and pills anxiously waiting for some one to pick up my plastic body and use my clean scent. I spend my days plotting ways to fight Body Odor, conniving a plan of how to out smart that foul foe. Humans use my awesome powers when they wake up in the morning and hopefully reapply after a shower. I go unnoticed most of the time until someone is in need for my power.

    I'm a bit of a rectangular shape(fitting into clothes is killer so I just go without). My surface is smooth and inviting. My kind can come in numerous different colors and labels. I myself am the lovely pale blue of the ocean on a sunny day. My able reads Secret bragging of my undercover work. My head is made of a charming white powder, which carries out the duty of gently rubbing my fumes onto humans under arms. Though many take me for granted I take my work very seriously.

      I will share with you one of the many miracles I worked. My story begins with

 a boy and girl. Behind the medicine cabinet I would eaves drop in on the girl as she talked to herself in the mirror about how she wished Barnaby would ask her out. One day the girl's wish came true. Barnaby offered to take her out to the movies. This happened to be the one occasion she slipped me into her purse for insurance. I watched as her date began very faultily. Her nerves took the better part of her and her odor spread thr

oughout Barnaby's car.

   He gave her a look of disgust when he realized where the odor originated . He wouldn't stand within two feet of her in the lobby. She understood what was happening and watched as her dreams melted way as my nemesis, Body Odor, was coming from under her arms. She panicked at first, then remembered that a superhero lay inside her purse. She quickly reapplied me. I easily brushed away my enemy B.O. and replaced it with my fresh roses sent. By the end of the night, Barnaby has asked her to the prom. That was one of the proudest moments of my life.

   The life I lead may not always be easy , I brave unsanitary conditions to help humans with their pride and dignity. I work around the clock to ensure humans under arms do not get infiltrated with that vile smell. I sit looking inconspicuous on my shelf ready to jump off at any time and use my brilliant power on any sweaty soul in need of my service. I may look little, however, I could come in handy one day when you need my powers to wipe away unwanted stench! Can you guess my true identity ? I'm the wonderful, brave, and always willing Deodorant! Remember my powers and my sacrifice next time you take advantage of my stench killing strength.

May 08

Moonshine and Wild Girl

There was once a chance I didn't take, a chance I would have been crazy to take, but it was a chance of excitement. It was so very long ago that I ignored that girl, so long my skin stood up on it's own. She was offering moonshine; of course every sane person knows to stay away from moonshine, that is if you don't want to be locked up for good. That girl came straight into little Albuquerque selling her moonshine. She offered me a life with her , a life of hard liquor and hard times. I told the local boys I wanted nothing to do with a wild gal like that . She was aiming for the rope, but my inner thoughts couldn't be more different. As a seventeen year old boy, I thought she was the cats' meow, her reckless behavior drove my hormones right outta the water.

   The first day she came into town, she wore a bright red dress made by gypsies, or so she said. That salutary enchantress caught my eye right away. Her long black hair tasseled around like some kinda pony and her eyes were filled with the flames of the devil himself. My heart was surely ablaze at the sight. It was Jimmy who changed my idea of her. His father was the sheriff in town, and he informed me she was bad news all right. His old papa was just waiting for her to show her moonshine and then he was going to tie her up and let her dangle. Jimmy had a way of swaying the groups thoughts. After this announcement, that gal was off limits. No one would dared look in her direction. I followed suit with the other boys. She was dangerous I told myself, but my body wanted that girl so badly it would try anything to get her.

    I can recall the exact moment I first spoke to that crazy girl. I had been walking back from work down at the old car garage. She was perched on a tree branch like some kind of mocking bird. I didn't see her right away. She took me by surprise when she flew down behind me and began blabbering on like she was puttin me under some kinda spell. I was entranced with that dang girl. I could barely contain myself, She forwardly told me she'd noticed me since the first blasted day she arrived, said it was because of my stupid grin. 

    She shyly pulled her dress strap down onto her shoulder  as she answered , "you part of them boys in town, part of them boys talkin bad bout me?"

"We ain't talkin bad , we just curious" ... I sheepishly explained

"It's true about the moonshine I admit it, what do you think now?"

"Why you tellin me this?"

"Just needed someone to be honest with I guess. It get s lonely you know. No one to talk to an all. Wish I had some company just once"

"Ahr..ummm" I awkwardly attempted to convey I didn't want to hear anymore.

"You seem like a nice kid,what you say to joining me? Helping me sell some moonshine. We can make some money and some fun. We'll  run from the law wherever we go, Has to be more excitin than this dried up old town."

    I nervously looked at that girl hanging on every word she had to offer, "You're a crazy you know, and you should be locked up for what you've been doin."

She stood there daft as I stalked away in a flurry. I knew I should've gone with that girl. I should've taken the only risk come my way but, here I live out my conventional dull life .

            

 

January 08

Confession

In the Catholic faith, there are two kinds of confessions, perfect and imperfect. In perfect, the sinner is truly sorry for their sins and will be forgiven by God. In imperfect , the sinner is going to confession because they are afraid of ending up in hell or are forced by a parent ,but if put in the same situation would repeat the sin once again. Perhaps we are all like little children forced to confess by ones parents or we don't get dessert only now the dessert becomes something else and the parent becomes someone else. When our confessions or apologies are made are they imperfect or perfect? Would one sin again in the same way if given the choice? Why is it so easy to make a confession without meaning it and so hard to make a perfect confession?Is life's indulgences just too tempting?

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