#1MinFiction: Acquired Taste

“Pass the dutch, young blood.”

Uncle Ted takes a drag, holds it in, eases into the lawn chair next to me.

“Your mama burned the turkey. And you know Betty can’t cook no damn mac and cheese.” He inhales again, passes it to me. “This might make it taste better.”

I shake my head. “You forget, old man. I’ve lived with her my whole life, been smoking half of it.” I puff, breath, puff again.

“It doesn’t.”


Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. All November, I’m giving you Thanksgiving-themed prompts. Today’s prompt is pass the…

Stoned Soliloquy

Rain never falls straight down. There’s always a gust of wind slanting it eastward, rendering the umbrella useless and blurring my vision as tiny water droplets fill my spectacles. I wish I could wear contacts, but my eyes pick up this incessant need to blink whenever something comes too close— fingers, eye drops, corrective lenses. Eye doctor visits are dreadful. Must he shine that light so brightly in my eyes just to see the back of them? And what is up with that eye pressure device? You could gouge someone’s eyeballs out with that thing! No thank you! I’d rather have glaucoma. At least then I’d have a medical excuse for the bud I smoked this morning, though maybe not the proper paperwork. Have you ever noticed that some of your best ideas come when you’re high? I’m actually thinking about inventing windshield wipers for glasses. I’d call them . . . FrameWipes! Better trademark that. Wouldn’t want some straight-faced, sober CEO with a six-figure salary and no creativity to back it up stealing my idea.

word count: 173


Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a weekly challenge where you write a story in 100-150 words (give or take 25 words) using the provided photo prompt as inspiration.



Good morning, everyone! Sorry I’ve been MIA. It’s been a CRAZY week! To make up for my unexplained absence, I would like to share with you this experimental poem I wrote about smoking weed.

Ever notice how a Friday night can switch from being just another boring night watching reality TV on the couch to something . . . wild? I bet my Colorado people do. I hope you had fun with Mary last night! 😉



I had an affair with Mary last night,
and staring deep into my soul,
she told me secrets about myself I’d never discover alone
and made me feel freer than I did with any man.
She was that forbidden fruit
that continued to entice me with her illuminating color
and tease me with the sweet aroma of her breath
until I finally succumbed and floated into her hovering embrace.

She kissed me lightly at first,
barely grazing my lips.
The second time was more intense
as she blew her electric air deep into my throat,
sparking a small fire inside of me.
A blaze that grew brighter as it began to spread,
tickling all five of my senses
until it completely consumed me
and when the third time came around –

I kissed her.

There was something fulfilling in her caress.
I felt safe
enraptured in her arms
I could release and watch the world’s burdens
drift away, evaporating into the night’s sky.

It was a surreal experience,
sleeping with Mary.
How much I really remember, it’s hard to say.
She was gone too soon,
disappearing into the predawn darkness,
leaving me to wonder if she was ever there at all.
Maybe I imagined
her warm, succulent kisses,
the tingling sensation of her skin against mine,
the burning passion
we fell into as we rolled
into the wall, the counter, the floor,
never quite making it to the bed.

As I slowly emerge, still fluttering in the high
of our love making, I tell myself:
Next time, I will kiss her first.


*I actually wrote two versions of this poem. I’ll share the second one with you next Saturday (after another wild Friday night). You’ll be the judge on which is the better poem.