The Real Deal. The Lesser of Two Evils. Poll Dancing or Pole Dancing.

Written in response to: Write a story about someone seeking revenge for a past wrong.... view prompt

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Creative Nonfiction Drama Fiction

Spam you + Scam you=(ac) ==Squishy Ham😝

Yuck.


The pigs are squealing loudly.

Right out loud.

One by one.

In a straight line.

Obviously prancing to their destiny of and for humans oft daily enjoyment.


Bacon.🥓


Betcha ya didn’t know.

Now. Perhaps you wish you didn’t.

Know.

Want a piece of it?

The action?


Enjoy.


But don’t think too much about it or else you may get a belly ache. A bacon filled belly ache. I think I hear the squealing really coming from deep inside your gut. The grumbling and mumblings.


Was it worth it?

Instant gratification?


Seriously thinking of becoming a vegetarian.

Then. Why don’t you? You ask.

Just pull the trigger. On the meat, the meaty thing.

Because I keep on hearing about the benefits of protein and I am fortunately faced with a daily dilemma of combat about it.


Not so much for the least of these. The least of us. The grown ups. The certified grown ups. Children. The certified children of God. The children of a lesser God. The devilish among us. The lesser of two evils. Of the grab and go. The takeaway.


Options.


Oftentimes come into view and slap us right upside our face. When we are watching something else. Ouch. While watching for what closely aligns with what we think because then we are right! Glorious right.

Gloriously right and you are wrong. About stuff. Most stuff.


While you chose to watch the train wreck.

The one happening right under our noses.

(while sniffing the aroma of the bacon, no doubt)

And. It smells like a rat.

A soulless sellout.


Noise. Explaining. More noise. Rapid awakenings (pg) happen in the midst of it all. Hope you will be watching the best “show”. Careers are won and lost during an awakening.


The answer of the day: “I wasn’t even there”.

Yeah. Sure.

And I am not a person who loves to eat bacon.


With all the wheeling and dealing, would you recognize a real deal when you see it?


My point exactly.

”This little piggy went to market”

This little piggy stayed home.”

This little piggy went

Wee, wee, wee

all the way home.”😔


Unless Port-o-john miraculously appeared either as a mirage or a thick brush in the distance. Or not so in the distance😉.


The real deal is really not a deal at all.

Because it is real.

You do NOT have to know when to hold’em

Know when to fold ‘em

Know when to walk away.

Know when to run.


If it is a good, rock solid deal.


But if it is not rock solid and the polls are up down and the dancers are too. 💃🕺🏻👯‍♀️👯👯‍♂️ Well. My suggestion is you better start running.


Somewhere.

Anywhere.

To get some air.

Because it is gonna get even more squealing in the short term. And who knows what else is down the pipe in the long run. Or up the pipe. Or down the pole. Or up the pole.


The sugary shack is just up the road.

The potty dance goes on there too.

There are plenty of poles.

There are plenty of shows.

Sometime you just have to throw a flag. (bs)

Jaws come out when there is blood in the water. (ct)

There are yoga classes on the south lawn too!

Hurray. Hurray.



Morality is a thing. Really. It exists in messaging. All kinds of messaging. Here. There. Everywhere.


Hoax-ey even.

Some folks will do just about anything.

For a scoop.


It used to be so much more satisfying.

Today. It has just become evil.

A choice between good and evil.

Options include the lesser of two evils.

The louder squealing piggy, or the squeaky clean one. Who will get the job done faster, makes no mind HOW they “do it”.


Just Get. It. Done. Poll Watcher. Pole Dancer. Poll Dancer. Pole Watcher. Because. Behind the dark rooms and the darkened screens. People are watching.


While many other are “explaining” stories of the day, stories of their days. While others simply smirk it all away in a twerk and a perk. Skirting the issue all the way up and down the pole, oops I mean poll.


The very thin line between fiction and non. Very thin line. Add to that a bit of blur and who has the ability to see straight. Not me. I am still thinking about the bacon😋. How it’s processed and desperately trying to forget the sound of the little buggers right before they sacrificed their lives for my enjoyment.


I have a stomach ache just thinking about it.

I think I just made an important life decision, right here with ya’ll.

I’ll let you know how it all turns out.

I know you are waiting with bated breath.


And a huff. A puff. And a blow.


Even the wolf has its boundaries. The wolf danced about. With rage. He swore too.Like Santa, he even threaten to come down the chimney and eat the little children, oops, I mean piggies for supper.


Hangry.


But those little piggies are smart. They had the scalding hot water at the ready for the nasty old wolf. And the little piggies ATE the wolf for supper.


Things can turn on a dime sometimes.Provided you have one. A dime. Might the piggies suggest a trip for you to the sugary shack?


Probably.

Now.

I think I want to eat a pound of the little buggers all in one sitting. Stomache or not. Would be worth any belch or burp to blow them straight up into the air. Where they belong.


But. That sounds evil. The lesser of two evils for sure. So does the sound of the little piggy selves walking the plank for my enjoyment.

Such a precarious dilemma. How do you tell one from the other?


A dilemma, a real deal, a good story?


The louder the squealer the better? Seems rather pertinent. It is much too late for an intervention. Too much time has past. Hit back with a beaut? Always your choice. Take a stab at it.


Some say revenge is best served cold.

Brrrrrrrrrrr.





















June 23, 2023 19:21

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