metaphoricalsimile's profile

The warm aroma of vegetables sautéed in fine olive oil surrounded a swarthy, dark haired, young man who wore an apron, a well-tailored suit, and the kind of grin that only anticipation of sexual congress can bring. He was in a steel forest of cookware and well-honed cutlery so expensive that only professional chefs or pretentious bastards would bother to purchase any of it. He grasped a tomato with a hand and an arm that were contorted un-naturally by paralyzation. His other, very well-formed...

She was kneeling on the carpet. Her long, blond hair was bound in a bun. Her thin, stringy frame quivered with the violence of her scrubbing. Her long fingers tingled at the edge of burning from exposure to the chemicals which lay strewn about her: a Stone Henge of brightly colored bottles and cans of bleaching, foaming, color-restoring sprays and solutions, some upright, and some fallen where they had been cast away after failing the woman. Their lack of utility brought tears of frustration ...

"Forgive me father, for I am sin." Didn't hear anyone come in the booth. Must have been dozing. Hot in here, usually the heat keeps them out. No reverence in his voice. Don't wanna deal with a smart ass kid today. Wait, what did he say? "My son, perhaps you are new to the church. The proper..." "No padre. You might say I've been around for a while, in fact." "Then you meant to say..." "I meant what I said, mon pere." He keeps cutting me off. No respect. Hate this kind. Hate sweating this much...

Pretend with me today That burning in your filthy loins Is truly pure love Bleeding from your holy heart That maggot crusted lies Which tumble from your rotting lips Are really shining truths Beacons for wand'ring ships That the stagnant pool of your mind Was just a broken toy That you left behind When you stopped playing games.

Ricky liked bars. He liked the dim lights, the flashy ads for beer, whiskey, Alovar's Pure Columbian Snow, The Fast Method, "clinically proven to keep you fast 15% longer than the leading brand." He liked how the aromatic smokes formed weather fronts, a high-pressure zone of ganja sweeping away a low-pressure tobacco front, both swirling together and mixing as they dance to the dim ceiling. He especially liked the pretty women and macho men reeking of desperation. Bars liked Ricky too. He ma...