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A place to keep my entries for various contests and challenges |
| This book is not only a place to create, keep, and store contest entries, it's also a log of items that may one day become something more. |
| First, let’s be honest, you didn’t “fall” down the stairs, you were pushed. By whom? Nobody knows except the pusher. I suspect, however, that it was the individual who resides beyond the door behind the bar. Secondly, let’s address the ladder. Sure, there happened to be a ladder, just the right height to reach that hatch, just lying around in a basement. I think not! I have a theory on all of this. The ladder was placed where it would be discovered by the resident beyond the door behind the bar. Then, it was just a matter of time as the resident waited for someone to stop and peer into the dark basement, at which time the resident rushed out and pushed you down there. It was all planned, a ploy to fill the open position of “Guy In The Basement”. Think about it, how else was the position going to be filled? An ad in the paper, “Wanted, someone to reside in a dank, dark, and creepy basement filled with passageways, catacombs, and rooms that contain who knows what to write poetry, stories, blogs, and various prose and verse from dreams and nightmares. Your compensation will be a Newsletter to justify your very existence and an unlimited supply of cheap, homemade banana rum.” As you have likely noted, I have referred to the resident beyond the door behind the door as, “the resident”. Why? Because it seldom shows itself, and when it does, it is always cloaked in a swirling mist that obscures one’s vision and prevents anyone from seeing what it is. It may be something alien or mutated by the foul liquor stored in the basement. Or, it may be something from a completely different reality. I opened the door sometime back after fixing myself my third or fourth, perhaps even my tenth or eleventh Brass Monkey. It was while the bar was closed, I was taking advantage of free booze checking up on the bar. I had given in to curiosity and opened the door just enough to look inside. But, I couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t dark and it wasn’t light, it was more like a gray swirling mass. I opened the door a bit further and stuck my head in through the opening and strained to see through the grayness. There was a foul odor filling the absolute stillness beyond the door and I could just barely make out a figure sitting on a white chair or throne inside the swirling grayness. I was about to go inside a bit further when the figure reached out and slammed the door shut. I just barely managed to pull my head back before the door went shut! I heard an eerie voice screech at me from beyond that door, “Get out you pervert!” I pondered this over a few more Brass Monkeys but didn’t really figure it out until the next day when my head was pounding, and my stomach was churning. I was at home and ran to the bathroom, sat down, and swore I’d never drink again. Suddenly, the door started to open, I reached up and pushed it shut. “Get out of here.” I screeched. That’s when I figured out the door behind the bar is a bathroom, and when I peeked in, Volga, the barmaid, was doing her business. Yes, being the lazy person she/he (I don’t think anyone knows for sure) resides behind that door through most of her shift. I suspect a few other employees do the same during theirs. A proud member of "WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group"  "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
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Man, you know nothing about monkey business! Never poke your nose in them.
