Class Reunion

4DCB1E25-0562-4E30-A118-9FFD797DE69F“Hello,” the woman at the reception table said. “Welcome to the Class of 1999 twenty-year reunion. May I have your name, please?”

“Elizabeth, don’t you recognize me?” Aaron asked. “We were classmates. And surely you remember that night when we….”

Elizabeth cut off the man standing in front of her and then looked carefully him. “Oh my God. Is that you, Aaron? Look at you. You were such a nerd back in our ivy-covered campus days. Now you’re a hot.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Aaron said, a smile on his face. “You’re looking pretty good, yourself, Elizabeth.”

“So what have you been up to for the past two decades, Aaron?”

“I’m a stock broker, never married, and I dabble in a few other areas of personal interest,” Aaron said. “What about you?”

“I’m divorced, have two beautiful kids, and work as an oxygen therapist,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, I don’t know what that is, but it sounds important,” Aaron said. “I imagine it must be rewarding for you to nurture your children.”

“You clearly don’t have any children,” Elizabeth said, with a little laugh. “I’m convinced that having your own kids is like paying penance for the hell we put our own parents through when we were kids.”

“I hear ya’,” Aaron said as he reached down to sign the reunion registry. “I think this pen is out of ink. Do you have another?”

“I’m sure we have a plenty of pens here,” Elizabeth said, “And I’m sure we’re in for a plenitude of new memories at this twenty-year reunion.” She winked at Aaron.

“I’m up for making some great new memories with you tonight, Elizabeth,” Aaron said. “And are you sure you don’t remember that night….”

“Oh yes,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I remember it quite well.”


Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt where the topic is “reunion.” Also for Paula Light’s Three Things Challenge where the three things are “ink,” “oxygen,” and “ivy.” And finally, for these daily prompts: The Daily Spur (night), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (dabble), Ragtag Daily Prompt (nurture), Word of the Day Challenge (penance), and Your Daily Word Prompt (plenitude).

Tale Weaver — Reflection

102F6D24-BA34-41A1-B729-9A87842C8D5FI don’t look in the mirror all that much. In fact, the only time I really look into the mirror is when I wake up in the morning to wash my face and brush my teeth.

And it’s always a bit of a shock when I look at my reflection. Who’s that? I wonder. Who’s that old fart looking back at me? That’s not me. I’m in my prime. How did that old man get in my bathroom mirror?

I feel as if I’m not looking at my reflection in that mirror, but at a Dorian Gray-like picture. Only it’s me, not my painting, that has aged.

In my mind’s eye, I’m no older than I was when I was a younger man. I don’t really feel older, save for a few more aches and pains, perhaps. It just doesn’t feel to me that I’ve been alive any longer now than it felt to me when I was in my twenties or thirties.

In my dreams, I’m always way younger than I actually am. And smarter. And better looking, too. And sometimes I can fly! Ah perchance to dream.

But then the cold, hard reality hits me when I step into the bathroom, splash water on my face, and look at my reflection in the mirror.

Seriously, where did I go? What happen to that luxurious head of wavy brown hair I used to have? What’s with all those random little hairs growing out of my ears? Will putting some black shoe polish on my gray beard make me look any younger?

And when the hell did my eyebrows start to resemble Andy Rooney’s?

Okay, time to face up to the truth. I really am the person I see reflected in the mirror. But that image staring back at me doesn’t define who I am. It merely reflects how long I’ve been at it.

And dammit, I’m still young at heart.


Written for this week’s Tale Weaver prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. We are asked to consider the concept of reflection.

MLMM Photo Challenge — The Epitome of Cool

B2D328ED-D671-436D-8F9D-92072AECCB0AHey, sweet thing, how ya doing? Another fine day at the beach, right? Yeah, I know. I do look pretty cool. In fact, I am the epitome of cool. I’m smart, I’m good looking, I’m rich. I dress with the best of them. And I tell you what, I look even better without clothes on than I do with clothes on. It’s true. Women are wild about me and even some guys have hit on me. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m very open-minded. But fuhgeddaboudit, guys, this door doesn’t swing that way, you know what I mean?

Why am I here by myself if I’m all that? No, I’m not waiting for anyone to join me. I just needed some quality alone time. If I wanted to be here with someone, I’d have my choice of little fillies to keep me company. You think I’m full of myself? Why would you say something like that? I just got the goods, babe. I’m the real deal, primo real estate, you know what I’m saying?

Look at you playing all hard to get. That’s precious. I can dig it. Say, you want a beer? No? Okay. I can light up this doobie if you’re into that shit. No, huh? So what are you into, anyway? Not me? Wow, that’s harsh. I bet if you got to know me you’d change your tune. I’m charming and irresistible and dynamite between the sheets.

Hey, where are you going? Don’t walk away from me. That’s just rude. What the hell is your problem, bitch? You need someone to pull that stick outta your stuck up ass. And I’m just the man to do it, too. Well, you had your chance to score with me, but you blew it. Fine, don’t look back. I don’t care. No skin off my back. You’re not even in my league, babe, and I got more important things to do than to play head games with you. I was just getting ready to leave this scene, anyway. Goodbye and good riddance.


Written for this week’s Photo Challenge from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Photo credit: GQ.

MLMM Photo Challenge — Medusa

8BC9BDDA-9DAE-4FE2-8D5B-9DBAE4B0DE32They warned me about you, but I was too captured by your statuesque beauty to listen to what anyone else told me. They said you you had snow in your veins and that you were cold and manipulative. But my every instinct, every cell in my body, told me they were wrong about you.

In the end, though, they were all right. What I thought was your gracious hospitality was just a way for you to draw me into your web. I learned that your empathy was merely an act to cause me to let down my defenses. You were one-half warm and vibrant woman and one-half stone cold bitch.

And now I’m frozen; you’ve turned me to stone. I am unable to turn away from you. You have immobilized me. I only now understand why my friends refer to you as “Medusa.”


Written for the Photo Challenge prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Photo credit: MindCore. Also for these daily prompts: Ragtag Daily Prompt (snow), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (instinct), The Daily Spur (cell), Word of the Day Challenge (hospitality), and Your Daily Word Prompt (empathy).

Sunday Writing Prompt — It’s John Lennon, Dude

A00899C6-FC99-476E-9F48-FFCF7B3E3FD4

“It’s a picture of John Lennon when The Beatles were going through their psychedelic phase,” I said.

“That’s what you see?” he asked.

“Sure. The purple sunglasses, the rosy cheeks, the fu manchu mustache, the long hair. It’s definitely Lennon. No question.”

“Pink hair?”

“Psychedelic colors, man,” I said. “Like ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,’ you know what I mean? Like ‘tangerine trees and marmalade skies.’”

“And what is that on Lennon’s head?” he asked.

“It’s his Sgt. Pepper hat.”

“And those shapes on both sides of his head?”

“Dude, don’t you see it?” I asked. “That’s the visualization of the music that is inside of his mind as he’s composing a song. In stereo!”

“May I ask you something?” he said.

“Sure, feel free. Go for it.”

“Are you tripping on acid right now?”

“Funny you should ask, Dr. Rorschach,” I said, smiling at the psychologist. “That’s a very distinct possibility.”


Written for this week’s Sunday Writing Prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.