Comments Posted By BeccaJean

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“I said I wanted it shaken!”
“Stirred is the only way we make them, sir.”
“Disgusting. Do you know who I am?”
“Should I, sir?
“I have a license to kill.”
“We do not shake our drinks here, sir.”

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.29.2016 @ 6:13 pm


you came over today just to rattle my cage,
to make me feel like the last time,
like this was the last time,
hope this was the last time.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.27.2016 @ 3:50 pm


One by one, they withdrew funding from public services and spaces where people tended to congregate and socialize; they were suspicious of the ideas that could potentially emerge.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.16.2016 @ 1:52 pm


“There have been a lot of accusations flying ’round here. Now, I say we get to the bottom of all this right now.”
The Sheriff held up his right hand as if he imagined himself a preacher asking for silence. The ruckus continued; both families yelling cusses and curses across the Sheriff Station lobby, “Your good-for nothin’, piece of crap, titty suckin’, excuse for a son…”, “Yeah?! Well, your doh-doh headed, ugly, rutabaga of a daughter..”. And it went on like this for several more minutes until they ran out of insults that rolled off of their tongues.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.13.2016 @ 11:16 am


“It is mandatory!”
There was a collective groan.
“Hey! None of that now. You all knew attendance was compulsory.”
Learning how to “walk like a lady” was not the girls’ idea of a good time.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.12.2016 @ 10:41 am


she felt lowly and lonely. she looked around the bus and imagined that the other passengers’ lives were more fulfilling than hers, that they were loved. a man stepped on her foot as he exited the bus and she let out a small whimper, nobody noticed.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.09.2016 @ 2:33 pm


we were doomed for each other,
fateful was the day we met.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.08.2016 @ 11:32 am


Light, a spectrum of invisible colour.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 02.01.2016 @ 3:14 pm


I came across my mother sobbing in the kitchen. i hadn’t seen her cry, ever, and now here she was, weeping, not breathing, unleashed.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.31.2016 @ 10:41 am


you say ‘this’
i say ‘that’
and no listening
never listen,
so we can stay,

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.30.2016 @ 11:36 am


“Gladly”, she said without much feeling. I knew she was not glad, possibly not even ‘okay’, as she had answered earlier when I had asked her how she was doing.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.29.2016 @ 11:28 am


i don’t remember last night. i don’t remember telling you “i love you”. i don’t even remember what we ate. what was in those drinks?

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.26.2016 @ 2:39 pm


I keep my eyes closed until just before the drop. That’s the only way to ride a roller-coaster.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.24.2016 @ 2:32 pm


i don’t desire to be the object of your affections. i have, and never will be an object. i think and feel and love. do you?

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.23.2016 @ 1:41 pm


I wish there was a human sized portal in my kitchen, maybe next to the fridge, that I could travel through to a peaceful garden full of money trees.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.22.2016 @ 11:37 am


It bunched and began to ride up. Something about the moisture made it stick and slide further with every movement. It took all his concentration to prevent his hand from wandering behind to wrench the offending underpants out from between clenched cheeks. Marvin was not a great public speaker, PowerPoint presentations were always a nightmare.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.20.2016 @ 12:14 pm


she would always be a sore toe, a hang nail, a loose tooth.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.19.2016 @ 11:44 am


she was round. this made it difficult for her to walk, but she was great at rolling. this made the choice to be a steamroller all the more easy when she graduated high school.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.16.2016 @ 1:12 pm


oh boy, i feel confident. oh boy, do I really feel confident. nothing’s gonna go bad. everything is so rad. truly unruly and feelin’ super fine. boy, i sure feel confident.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.13.2016 @ 8:20 pm


they say rural life is better because it’s “simple living”, you aren’t bothered by the urban problems that seem to plague most people. Despite this notion, I always smile when thinking about a city-dweller moving out into farmland or a small town – I imagine them trying to find cell reception and asking fellow town members where the starbucks is…

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.12.2016 @ 3:21 pm


in the beginning, i felt troubled. sleep was seldom and riddled with nightmares of falling, or being chased, or fighting for my life.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.11.2016 @ 4:45 pm


the smell was overwhelming; her eyes were watering from the density of it, an ache was forming behind her temples and throbbing. she was incensed and, all at once, stood up from her bench shrieking, “Enough!”.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.08.2016 @ 11:44 am


try not to think about it; if something is worthwhile, one tends not to know this fact until later.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.07.2016 @ 7:08 am


That’s how we want it all these days. Now, immediately, as soon as we conceive it – or preferably before. Instant gratification becomes addictive, but it is hollow. And so, it becomes more difficult to appreciate, relate, and to value – in other words, we are losing touch with ourselves and each other.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.06.2016 @ 1:08 pm


a silent night guardian. my shadow play-mate. a friend with many faces. a beautiful, solemn jewel gliding through the night. the moon is as close to perfection as anything i can think of.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.05.2016 @ 11:59 am


He had said ‘yes’, but he couldn’t be exactly sure. Had it really been the way he remembered it? The faces and colours and sounds were all whipped up and streaking across his mind now.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.04.2016 @ 10:30 am


His mother, a tyrant, would hover over him while he practiced his multiplication tables, “9×9 is…81?”. She would scold him and wrap his knuckles if he got the answer wrong, even harder when he used his fingers to count.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 01.01.2016 @ 4:50 pm


a portal to the past. a warning. a welcome.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 12.31.2015 @ 12:45 pm


I was called a bully once. It made no sense, largely because I was mercilessly bullied throughout grade school. The whole experience fundamentally shaped my character; to this day, I always stand up for what I believe is right and good, and I never turn a blind eye to abuse of any kind.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 12.30.2015 @ 11:47 am


strict, such a dull word. like a straight stick, lying rigid and brittle, all bark – no bite.

» Posted By BeccaJean On 12.13.2015 @ 9:57 am

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