Comments Posted By Belinda Roddie
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The monthly premium that my father paid for my mother’s insurance was gargantuan; I was amazed that he could afford it. He confided in me about it over martinis at the Dry Well in downtown Arkania, informing me that he was pulling from retirement funds.
“She’s not going to live that much longer, far as I can tell,” he said with a loud sigh. “And if she’s not with me, then I don’t think I want to stay retired for long.”
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.30.2018 @ 10:08 pm
Somebody told me that you told somebody else that I was seeing someone other than my beautiful wife. And I swear, once I find you, I’ll make you feel like the least somebody anybody could ever be.
Okay, now somebody told me that you didn’t tell somebody that I was seeing someone else. Which is good. ‘Cause I’m not seeing someone. There is no somebody. There is nobody. F*** off.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.29.2018 @ 11:53 pm
They say you shouldn’t shoot the messenger, yet here I am: bleeding profusely on the king’s carpet, mixing red with red, though the red from me will turn to brown in just a few hours as the oxygen in the air has its way with it. The king holsters his gun, and I am left to cling to what little life I have now as the monarch’s steward stares at me.
“Your Majesty,” he says, “do you think, perhaps, you may have overreacted a bit to the news?”
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.28.2018 @ 10:44 pm
My poor 1994 Honda Civic needed new brakes, a new steering column, and four brand spanking new tires. I was almost wondering if it was time to turn in the old piece of scrap metal and invest in another car. However, the mechanic – a young, strapping lady with black hair and a cute smile – told me to reconsider.
“I can take of this, no problem,” she insisted. “For half the cost those other dealerships would milk out of you.”
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.27.2018 @ 9:46 pm
This is what we call the Gravy Train. It takes us past the small towns and the barren plains. It rips through the metropoli and lands us where the spotlights shine halos in a God forsaken sky. The hotels serve champagne under the moon’s gilded eye. You and I toast to good fortune. We won our tickets in a competition, and of our own volition, we dressed in sequins and, giggling all the way, boarded the sneering Gravy Train.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.26.2018 @ 10:16 pm
Just how many more elixirs are you going to pump down my throat before you claim that I’ve recovered my sanity? The formula tastes so bitter; it dries out my mouth and makes my teeth shake. I feel like I’m going to convulse so wildly that my soul will deliberately throw itself out of my body. And yet, you force me to stay in bed, claiming you’re “flushing out the toxins,” all while dousing my whimpering tongue with snake oil.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.25.2018 @ 8:48 pm
Marshall wanted a new washer and dryer, but Emery insisted that they couldn’t afford it. So they forked over quarter after quarter at the local laundromat, perpetually wasting money that they could have used up for newer and better machines. In the meantime, Chad got it in his head that perhaps hanging his wet clothes on a line would solve the problem. That was during the rainiest winter in a decade.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.24.2018 @ 9:42 pm
I tried to trust him. I tried to believe him. He told me he was set for life. He told me that his job was stable, that he’d quit drinking, that he was paying attention to his friends and family again. I let him back into my life because I thought he’d gotten better. Not cured, but rehabilitated. I TRUSTED him on that.
But three weeks later, he was unemployed. He came home with a bottle of gin and drank the whole thing in one sitting. Then he closed himself up in the spare bedroom and didn’t talk to me for two days.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.22.2018 @ 11:15 pm
We celebrated Emma’s 40th birthday at the Maxim Motel, where we snuck in cold bottles of bubbly and a box full of doughnuts we had snagged from the nearby grocery store. It had been two weeks since Emma had left her abusive bastard of a husband, so she was definitely doing most of the drinking. After we sang to her, she sang back to us, though she decided on a jazz standard than just repeating that obnoxious birthday tune.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.21.2018 @ 3:35 pm
“Give me the keys!”
“Give me the keys to your car!”
She was wild-eyed now. Her hair practically stood on end, and she was waving her hands in front of my face frantically. “I need to get out of here. Give me your keys!”
“Didn’t you drive?”
“No! But now Caleb’s in the next room, and I need. To. Get. Out of here!”
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.20.2018 @ 9:21 am
Chester mowed the lawn, while Rosalyn raked the leaves. Their father drank a spiked iced tea on the porch, his eyes already glazing over despite the fact that it wasn’t even afternoon yet. The heat would encroach the neighborhood in about an hour or so, so the teens were doing their best to get the yard work done before they were caught in a sweltering, humid haze.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.18.2018 @ 10:51 am
Look above your head, and you will spot Sammy crawling across the ceiling again. She doesn’t need the skills of Spiderman to do it – look, the skin on her hands naturally adheres to the plaster, but not too much, so she can move quickly. Try not to scream; this is normal in our household, and at least Sammy is never bored. It gives her poor mother a break.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.16.2018 @ 9:37 pm
Watch the men all circle her. Watch her as they turn to planets – hardened rock and beings full of hot air, making their orbit each passing day, their revolutions jaunty and lopsided, with awkward sunsets and sunrises. She doesn’t notice them. She is facing outward, toward the stars, and all the other galaxies.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.15.2018 @ 6:59 pm
I don’t drink margaritas anymore, or eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, because my metabolism has all the agility of a snail caught in a sticky quagmire on a warm and rainy June evening. I feast on salt and arugula and watch everyone else get thinner on beef and beer, and I wonder to myself just when my body decided to rebel against me. When it decided that occasional indulgence was toxic, and it needed to survive thirteen simultaneous Russian winters.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.13.2018 @ 8:48 pm
The site was still under construction, so I couldn’t begin building my art profile. It was frustrating; I had been using the same web page to sell everything I produced. My paintings, my shirts, my phone covers – all of it was easily processed and shipped off using the website in question.
Now, however, it was down, with no definite time for when it’d come back. And my funds were starting to deplete.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.12.2018 @ 6:57 pm
Is it too much to ask for me to be independently wealthy, when I have been profoundly poor for most of my life? I spent my first three years out of college being a dishwasher at a rundown Italian restaurant, milking each penny for all it was worth. I ate ramen and drank warm tap water and lived with six other people. Now I get to drink a beer sometimes and live with only four other people. Yeah. My affluence is staggering.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.11.2018 @ 7:45 pm
“Look, man,” said Marty, “I’m not here to judge you. But I’m pretty sure I told you that drinking toxic waste is super hazardous to your health.”
Michelle burped loudly. Flecks of green and black flecked her lips. She smiled and lowered the can. “Hey,” she said. “I bet you if I chug another pound of this, I’ll get X-ray vision.”
“How about cancer? You want that as a superpower?”
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.10.2018 @ 10:12 am
We were now waiting for the reveal, and trust me when I say that she. Kept. Us. Waiting. Oh, my GOODNESS, did she expect us to be patient. We were all sitting around the tiny, cramped dressing room, our feet bouncing up and down and our tongues fluttering around our dry lips. It was warm and uncomfortable, and I just wanted to see the damn dress.
“Leila, c’mon!” I barked. “I don’t even think your bride’s gonna wait this long for you!”
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.08.2018 @ 2:49 pm
Do you want to be an actor, or an astronaut, or a firefighter? Do you want a job where you work at day, or where you pull an all-nighter? Or do you feel like being a nomad on the street with a pipe and a cigarette lighter?
Do you want to save the world, or cure a bad disease? Or do you want to be an idler and live a life of ease?
None of these answers are wrong, you know. You don’t need to actually belong, you know.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.07.2018 @ 4:08 pm
“What’s up, man?”
“Car stalled,” panted Garrett. “I’ve been trying to push it to the gas station for the past half hour.”
“Where the Hell are you?”
“15 Interstate. On the shoulder by the City Hall.”
“Dude!” Daisy’s voice rose an octave. “That’s dangerous, bro! Look, I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops, okay?”
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.06.2018 @ 7:58 am
Strict and stern, Nathaniel stood in front of the class wearing a soot-colored suit and a scowl across his wrinkled face. It was his thirtieth year teaching, and the students seemed quieter and quieter with each new term. Now, their eyes was averted, though not on their cellphones; Nathaniel had confiscated them all on the first day. But despite not having their little screens, they would not look their teacher in the eyes.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.05.2018 @ 7:53 am
The two old men were wining and dining, chewing and grinding, sharing stories and bad jokes at the corner table. It was actually fun to listen in on. The two elderly gents appeared to be very close – friends, or perhaps even lovers. But they did appear to be reconnecting or rekindling something that perhaps had been lost long ago. One of them still had a good head of hair, his smile big beneath his lumberjack-esque beard.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.02.2018 @ 11:04 pm
She destroyed my house. She wrecked my car. And on top of that, she stole my heart. I knew that was a big mistake to love her, but it was mine to make. She was pure living TNT, and soon, she’d make a fool of me. She’d lead me down a twisted path and strand me in the aftermath. I’d be just like that automobile – a broken pile of junk and steel.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.02.2018 @ 10:05 am
We met at the Channel Five coffee shop on a weekly basis, always ordering mochas and always waiting for a Channel Five news bus to be situated outside. We knew why the shop had that name, though – it was because the owner’s last name was Channel, and he was the fifth child out of seven in his family. He went by Chan colloquially, and he always winked at me when he handed me my drink.
“We’re not dating,” I’d always remind him, trying not to pay attention my attractive friend as she waited for me at the corner table.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 06.01.2018 @ 12:46 pm
Would you like three dollars for an ice cream cone? I can come with you, so you don’t have to be alone. I’ll get myself a sundae, with a cherry on top. Enjoy the treat during the heat. Ignore the assholes on the street. When it comes to being yourself and happy, you never have to stop.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.29.2018 @ 12:43 pm
There are millions of people like you and me who visit these cemeteries on Memorial Day. They leave flowers and gifts; they say prayers under their breath and ignore the grass stains left on their legs after they’ve knelt. There are veterans who salute each other from their spots by the graves, and honestly, it’s hard to remember sometimes – how much they’ve sacrificed for this country while it slowly erodes all freedom.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.28.2018 @ 10:17 am
Copper kettle, boil for me. Heat my water for my tea. Serve it ten minutes past three. This fine brew isn’t for free.
Copper kettle, boil for me. The smell causes ecstasy. Once I find the reverie, I don’t want no company.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.26.2018 @ 12:00 pm
This is what’s left of your empire, my liege – this is what’s left of your fiefdom. Piles of ash over twenty feet high where your towers once rose like tarantula’s legs. Crumbling wastelands of brick and dead stone where you previously held your ceremonies. Your fortress is breaking like cake in my hands as my fingers linger along its walls. Life is impermanent, and so is your reign – accept it, and die like a man.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.25.2018 @ 3:50 pm
The entire road trip was a drag. We had no food, not enough water, and definitely not enough things to entertain us on the side of the freeway. Chelsea was snoring in the back seat by the time we reached St. Hakoda, and I was certain I was gonna collapse from the sheer lack of pretzels and chips and other salty snacks that I normally took with him on these ridiculous journeys.
Had to blame my father, of course – he never liked sitting still. And when he wanted to go on an adventure, we were his reluctant fellowship.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.23.2018 @ 10:08 am
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You cannot beat me – I am unstoppable. I am invincible and impenetrable. My armor is forged from metals from parts of the galaxy you’ve never explored. My sword can slay even the most powerful of leviathans. I am the Goliath to your Goliath. You cannot defeat me with stones. And you cannot usurp my hard earned throne.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.22.2018 @ 10:32 am