Writer's Island 06/29/08 "Curiosity"

A Curious Exchange

by Constance

I caught the dog scrutinizing me,

speculative gleam in his brown eye,

an all-together too human expression.

He caught me watching him, watch me

and reverted to that dopey canine grin,

just before he bolted across the kitchen

to chase the cat, and skidded headfirst

across the linoleum into the dishwasher.

Eyes wide, he glanced back to see if I

noticed before he trotted off to nap on

the bed, nose to nose with the grooming

cat.

"She suspects!" the cat whispers to the

dog from behind a raised paw.

"Are you sure?"

The cat swipes paw over one ear. "Not

really... Nah, maybe not. Probably not."

"Good,” says the dog, “good.” He turns

around twice.

"Nice distraction, the dishwasher thing,"

The dog makes a last turn, settles in. "I

try," the dog replies with a yawn. "I do

try."

Evil HypnoGnome Sez...

Buy This Book!

Or I will visit U in d' Nite...


Unleashed by Kris Reisz

Not convinced? How about a testimonial (review) from a non-reading 15 year-old teen with no connections whatsoever to HypnoGnome?

"This was a cool book."

"This high school kid, Daniel, kept trying to be what everybody wanted him to be."

"Then he met some werewolves and they taught him how to be himself."

.

.

.

"I wish I was a werewolf..."

Uh, anyhow, obey Hypnognome! Buy a copy of Unleashed and help protect the planet! (some planet, somewhere) If you buy enough of them, they stack nicely and also protect from random attacks by the undead!*

*Not intended for use as protection against Really Seriously Pissed Zombies.

The "And Now For Something Completely Different" Poem

Seduction

by Constance

In the tire store, offering

its best come hither stare,

stacks of freshly molded

rubber, untouched, deeply

treaded, unkissed by any

pavement. Taunt and tight

as only the untractioned

can be. Alloy steel rims

gleam like modern grails.

Morning light illuminates

tiny feeler fingers budding

from whitewalls, reaching

from radials, mute testimony

to their virginal state. Out

front, in Stonehenge form-

ation, punctured by sunlight,

retreads play 'remember when'.

Orc Horse, Too

Why? Because I should be doing other things. Like working on a print for a Baren Exchange. Which is usually when I'm at my most creative, when I can't work on what I need to work on - Otherwise known as The Procrastinator's Paradox. "Whatever project you are working on at the time, will be superseded by another, far more interesting project - with no deadline."

Okay, back to work. That woodblock isn't going to carve itself. Although it would be cool if it did ... and I'd have to renew my Psychic Friends Network membership ... and still probably get splinters.

If Orc Wishes Were Horses...

They'd probably be some hideous shade of viridian.
And come with chartreuse sidesaddles.


Stay tuned for more ways to abuse the green side of your watercolor palette ...
(As soon as the lawn crisps up to its usual khaki, I'll find another color to paint with. Honest.)

It Ain't Natural

It's been raining here, not quite the biblical rains of last year, but close. I'm not used to seeing my lawn in neon green, sage - maybe, or olive, brown - definitely. But green? It's kind of scary. What's happening to my high plains desert?


I cut the lawn about 5 days ago, during a break in the drizzle. It's already ankle high again. Used to be, I could go two weeks in between mowing, three in August. It took me three hours to mow the back yard this time - it was over 12 inches high in places. In some spots, all you could see was dog ears, not even the whole dog. The Corgis had to porpoise through to get to the fences where they had a path beaten down. A path which is now a mud slide, and the beginnings of my very own moat!

Last year, my neighbor and I shared a ten foot wide swath of water, this year, it's a smaller moat. I did have ducks in the low spot in my backyard, but only for a while. They moved on to the suddenly big lake up the street.



The fun part about the mud? It's sticky. And clay-ie. I've hand built a pot from the stuff an inch under the grass. Of course the Corgis don't care about niceties like wiping their feet and bellies when they come in. The good thing is, when they come in the back door and see the towel in my hand, they promptly stop to get wiped off. The bad thing? Last week when I mowed, the dogs ran around in the clippings and came in the house ... with green feet. They looked like little leprechaun dogs. I'll get a picture next time, I promise.

The hills in Wyoming are alive with greenness. A startling sight. I'm taking pictures for when it gets to 100 degrees in August, and everything shrivels to multi-toned brown crisps. In other words, Wyoming normal.