Monday, November 29, 2011 the Scribbler editors met ready to discuss how to set out on turning what was Spork into the Scribbler. And we did it. The first step: make a new website. And two of our editors made the new site, check out the Scribbler at http://scribblermagazine.blogspot.com/ for new submissions and new news on Hudson High School's art and literary magazine.
Sincerely,
Editor in Chief
John McLean
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The Scribbler
The Hudson High School Art and Literary Magazine now has a new name... the Scribbler. Spork is no longer. The decision came down to a very close vote, and the editorial staff spent much time debating what to name the magazine. At the end the Scribbler was chosen because the staff thought that it best represented what we wanted the art and literary magazine to be.
We hope you love the name!
Sincerely,
Editor In Chief
John McLean
We hope you love the name!
Sincerely,
Editor In Chief
John McLean
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Teamwork by Kyah Eichholz
All he could hear was the quick pounding of his heart and the sound of his bare feet slapping against the cold stone of the street as he ran. Every breath was painful and his side felt like someone was constantly twisting a knife between his ribs, but still he ran. Darting down the nearest alley, Rathbone skidded to a stop and attempted to catch his breath. His lungs burned as he filled them with the cool air. Moving further into the alley, he tried to catch his breath and find somewhere to hide so he could finally sleep. We should be far enough away now that they won’t find us for a while. He noticed what was once someone’s tool shed peaking up over the brick wall. Scaling the brick, he hopped over the wall and narrowly missed a clothesline. Rathbone landed less than gracefully with a small “Oof.” Dragging himself up again, he stumbled over to the dilapidated shed and found a nice hidden spot next to some flower pots and an ancient bag of seed. Thankfully Zeev was quiet. Curling up, sleep quickly overcame him.
***
Rathbone knew he had to escape. He would go mad if he didn’t, but the question was how? He was in a high security facility, surrounded by hundreds of guards, on one of the highest floors, in a room with no windows, chained to a wall, and in a straightjacket. The odds were not on his side. Oh, and to top it all off, the guy in the cell next door had been singing the same verse of “What Do You Do with a Drunken Sailor?” for the past four days, keeping him from some much needed sleep. Also, Zeev would not leave him alone. We could kill the singing guy, come on, it’d be fun! Just imagine it, tearing his vocal cords ou-
Shut up Zeev. First of all, he’s in the other room and we’re here; second, when I get out of this room, I’m booking it and getting out of here, and third, unless you actually have a plan to get out of here, I suggest you can it so I can think.
A little touchy today, aren’t we? Well okay, have it your way, I’ll quiet down.
Rathbone was not looking forward to spending the rest of his life with Zeev’s incessant, snarky, and graphically violent chatter invading his brain. If he did find the last of the scientists who did this to him as he escaped he just might act on a few of Zeev’s suggestions.
You know-
Really?! Can you go three seconds without talking?
I was just going to suggest using some of my power to get the jacket and the chains off, but hey, if you’re enjoying them, I won’t stop you.
Wait, you can get these off?
I am a Hell Hound after all.
Okay, what do I do?
Let me have control.
No. No, no, no, no and NO. The last time I let you have control I ended up in this room next to the wannabe-pirate. This just screams bad idea.
Do you want to get out of here? Because I sure as hell do. Look, like it or not, we are stuck with each other. If you want to escape, and as much as I hate to say this, we need to work together. I don’t like this whole situation anymore than you do, and news flash for you, I ended up with the worse end of the deal. I lost my body when our souls were forced together and now I’m stuck in your pathetic body, no offense.
Offense taken.
Whatever, but anyway, my point is, give me some control and I’ll give you the body back when I’m done. Rathbone thought about it. It was a tough call, on one hand, they would be free to investigate the door and escape, on the other hand, letting Zeev have control was like letting a madman have a gun.
All right, I’m giving you just a small amount of control. Zeev responded by drawing on his powers and adding to Rathbone’s strength. Zeev straightened out his arms, breaking the buckles in the back. Then he mentally unlocked the manacles around their wrists and feet. His power faded back to normal.
See, now we’re free.
Why didn’t you suggest this earlier? Never mind. Do you have any other ideas to get us out? Rathbone finished getting the other buckles off and removed the straightjacket, leaving him only in his pants now.
Fresh out of ideas sorry, and the first thing on our list of things to as we escape should be to get a shirt. Damn, it’s cold.
Rathbone nodded in response as he walked over to the door. Putting his ear against it he listened for any sound of a guard. I don’t hear anything? Do you?
I hear what you hear, remember? No more Hell Hound hearing anymore, I’d need my ears for that.
Some help you are, useless dog.
Hey! Rathbone tried the door.
Locked.
Well no kidding! They’re just going to leave all the cells unlocked so the experiments can waltz right out of the building, useless human.
Rathbone just rolled his eyes. Lend me some power.
Oh, so now you need my power, I thought was a useless dog.
Come off it. I need to unlock the door, now lend me some power or do it yourself. Rathbone felt Zeev’s power seep into his hand and he willed the door to unlock. With a small click the door opened. Rathbone peeked around the door, and seeing that the coast was clear, stepped out into the guard station for this cluster of cells. He noticed a closet off to the right. He opened it and found a shirt. Happy to have the warmth, he ignored the fact that it was three sizes too large. Rolling up the sleeves, he searched the room for anything useful. Rathbone found a letter opener.
What’s the letter opener for? Are you going to make sure they send out the correct mail?
No. Since they have nothing else in here to use a weapon, we’ll just have to make do with this.
We? As in I get to use that as means of carnage? The sound of pure glee in Zeev’s voice scared Rathbone.
Yes, we. You said it before, we need to work together to get out of here. I’ll give you control of my body as long as you don’t suppress my mind and listen to my plan.
Okay, you’ve got a deal, Capitano. Opening the door, they walked down the hall, Zeev had control of the body and his powers; Rathbone retained his mind and told Zeev his plan of escape.
Basically, we are going to get to the first level, sneak out past the guards, and make a run for it. You have my permission to kill guards if we are threatened, but if one of the scientists comes, I want to share the body as revenge for this. Head for the back stairs, we can probably get to the lower stairs the best that way.
They creped down the hall care to avoid windows, as they were almost to the staircase, one of the doors opened and a smallish guard came out. Instead of freezing like Rathbone normally would, Zeev sprang on the guard and proceeded to clamp his hand over the guard’s mouth holding the letter opener to his neck, right near the artery. “Say one word and I will not hesitate to kill you. You’re going to be my meat shield and you’re going to help us get out of here.”
What are you doing?! This was not part of the plan; we’re not taking him along.
Shut it. There are tons of guards who will not hesitate to drag us back up here, now we have leverage.
Good point, but now we can’t take the stairs because he will be harder to control there. Take the elevator on our right. Zeev continued to lead the guard down the hall and had him press the elevator button. If Rathbone had been in control of the body, he would have crossed his fingers hoping the elevator would be empty. It was.
Eight floors and some awkward muzak later, the doors opened to reveal a floor full of guards waiting to get on the elevator. They stared in shock at the elevator with the escapee(s) holding the guard hostage. The doors closed and Zeev kicked the button for the next floor down.
The doors opened to the first floor. They were in a small, back hallway that led to the lobby of the building. Pushing the hostage guard forward, Zeev and Rathbone proceeded to the lobby. Thankfully it was devoid of people. Rathbone happened to note, out of the corner of the body’s eye, the clock on the wall stating the time as two o’clock. Due to the darkness on from the windows, he concluded it must be early in the morning.
Just then, they heard the thundering of boots coming from the back staircase. We got get out of here, pick up the pace.
I would, if shufflely in front of me here would stop dragging his feet.
FORGET the guard and run!
But then we have no leverage. If we have no leverage, we’re as good as dead.
We will be dead if you don’t get us moving!
But-
Give me control back! We got to run.
No. I’m in charge of the body; we’re doing this my way.
It’s my body and I’ll make the calls. With that they started to struggle for power. They heard a bunch of tiny clicks and turned to see all the guards surrounding them, all with guns drawn and aimed. “Well, crap,” they said in unison.
You can have your body back now.
Thanks. You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to me.
We can argue this later, but right now we have bigger problems.
“Experiment 134 RZ, do not move. If you let go of the guard and peacefully come to be detained, no one will get hurt,” one of the guards said, still training the gun on them.
Let’s back up toward the door a little more, and then on the count of three, I say we push the guard forward and then run.
Sounds like a plan, I’ll give you the body since you’re actually used to running in this thing, and I usually run as a quadruped. They started to slowly back up.
“Stay where you are 134 RZ! Don’t do anything rash.
Forget that! 1.
2.
3.
“NOW!” Pushing the guard forward, Rathbone turned and ran into the night. They were not far out of the city, and since they would blend and disappear more easily in a big city, they ran there.
***
When Rathbone awoke, the afternoon sun was streaming through the shed’s grime covered windows. Getting to his feet, he could feel the stiffness in his legs from last night’s run.
I’m hungry.
Me too, but we are in a huge city, with no money, hospital style clothes, and a whole bunch of angry guards and scientists on our trail, not exactly the best odds.
Oh, you have so much to learn. First off let’s start by grabbing some of the clothes off the clothesline just outside, and then we’ll tour the city.
But what about money?
Who needs money when one has magic?
Oh boy. Rathbone just shook his head, hoping that they wouldn’t be caug
***
Rathbone knew he had to escape. He would go mad if he didn’t, but the question was how? He was in a high security facility, surrounded by hundreds of guards, on one of the highest floors, in a room with no windows, chained to a wall, and in a straightjacket. The odds were not on his side. Oh, and to top it all off, the guy in the cell next door had been singing the same verse of “What Do You Do with a Drunken Sailor?” for the past four days, keeping him from some much needed sleep. Also, Zeev would not leave him alone. We could kill the singing guy, come on, it’d be fun! Just imagine it, tearing his vocal cords ou-
Shut up Zeev. First of all, he’s in the other room and we’re here; second, when I get out of this room, I’m booking it and getting out of here, and third, unless you actually have a plan to get out of here, I suggest you can it so I can think.
A little touchy today, aren’t we? Well okay, have it your way, I’ll quiet down.
Rathbone was not looking forward to spending the rest of his life with Zeev’s incessant, snarky, and graphically violent chatter invading his brain. If he did find the last of the scientists who did this to him as he escaped he just might act on a few of Zeev’s suggestions.
You know-
Really?! Can you go three seconds without talking?
I was just going to suggest using some of my power to get the jacket and the chains off, but hey, if you’re enjoying them, I won’t stop you.
Wait, you can get these off?
I am a Hell Hound after all.
Okay, what do I do?
Let me have control.
No. No, no, no, no and NO. The last time I let you have control I ended up in this room next to the wannabe-pirate. This just screams bad idea.
Do you want to get out of here? Because I sure as hell do. Look, like it or not, we are stuck with each other. If you want to escape, and as much as I hate to say this, we need to work together. I don’t like this whole situation anymore than you do, and news flash for you, I ended up with the worse end of the deal. I lost my body when our souls were forced together and now I’m stuck in your pathetic body, no offense.
Offense taken.
Whatever, but anyway, my point is, give me some control and I’ll give you the body back when I’m done. Rathbone thought about it. It was a tough call, on one hand, they would be free to investigate the door and escape, on the other hand, letting Zeev have control was like letting a madman have a gun.
All right, I’m giving you just a small amount of control. Zeev responded by drawing on his powers and adding to Rathbone’s strength. Zeev straightened out his arms, breaking the buckles in the back. Then he mentally unlocked the manacles around their wrists and feet. His power faded back to normal.
See, now we’re free.
Why didn’t you suggest this earlier? Never mind. Do you have any other ideas to get us out? Rathbone finished getting the other buckles off and removed the straightjacket, leaving him only in his pants now.
Fresh out of ideas sorry, and the first thing on our list of things to as we escape should be to get a shirt. Damn, it’s cold.
Rathbone nodded in response as he walked over to the door. Putting his ear against it he listened for any sound of a guard. I don’t hear anything? Do you?
I hear what you hear, remember? No more Hell Hound hearing anymore, I’d need my ears for that.
Some help you are, useless dog.
Hey! Rathbone tried the door.
Locked.
Well no kidding! They’re just going to leave all the cells unlocked so the experiments can waltz right out of the building, useless human.
Rathbone just rolled his eyes. Lend me some power.
Oh, so now you need my power, I thought was a useless dog.
Come off it. I need to unlock the door, now lend me some power or do it yourself. Rathbone felt Zeev’s power seep into his hand and he willed the door to unlock. With a small click the door opened. Rathbone peeked around the door, and seeing that the coast was clear, stepped out into the guard station for this cluster of cells. He noticed a closet off to the right. He opened it and found a shirt. Happy to have the warmth, he ignored the fact that it was three sizes too large. Rolling up the sleeves, he searched the room for anything useful. Rathbone found a letter opener.
What’s the letter opener for? Are you going to make sure they send out the correct mail?
No. Since they have nothing else in here to use a weapon, we’ll just have to make do with this.
We? As in I get to use that as means of carnage? The sound of pure glee in Zeev’s voice scared Rathbone.
Yes, we. You said it before, we need to work together to get out of here. I’ll give you control of my body as long as you don’t suppress my mind and listen to my plan.
Okay, you’ve got a deal, Capitano. Opening the door, they walked down the hall, Zeev had control of the body and his powers; Rathbone retained his mind and told Zeev his plan of escape.
Basically, we are going to get to the first level, sneak out past the guards, and make a run for it. You have my permission to kill guards if we are threatened, but if one of the scientists comes, I want to share the body as revenge for this. Head for the back stairs, we can probably get to the lower stairs the best that way.
They creped down the hall care to avoid windows, as they were almost to the staircase, one of the doors opened and a smallish guard came out. Instead of freezing like Rathbone normally would, Zeev sprang on the guard and proceeded to clamp his hand over the guard’s mouth holding the letter opener to his neck, right near the artery. “Say one word and I will not hesitate to kill you. You’re going to be my meat shield and you’re going to help us get out of here.”
What are you doing?! This was not part of the plan; we’re not taking him along.
Shut it. There are tons of guards who will not hesitate to drag us back up here, now we have leverage.
Good point, but now we can’t take the stairs because he will be harder to control there. Take the elevator on our right. Zeev continued to lead the guard down the hall and had him press the elevator button. If Rathbone had been in control of the body, he would have crossed his fingers hoping the elevator would be empty. It was.
Eight floors and some awkward muzak later, the doors opened to reveal a floor full of guards waiting to get on the elevator. They stared in shock at the elevator with the escapee(s) holding the guard hostage. The doors closed and Zeev kicked the button for the next floor down.
The doors opened to the first floor. They were in a small, back hallway that led to the lobby of the building. Pushing the hostage guard forward, Zeev and Rathbone proceeded to the lobby. Thankfully it was devoid of people. Rathbone happened to note, out of the corner of the body’s eye, the clock on the wall stating the time as two o’clock. Due to the darkness on from the windows, he concluded it must be early in the morning.
Just then, they heard the thundering of boots coming from the back staircase. We got get out of here, pick up the pace.
I would, if shufflely in front of me here would stop dragging his feet.
FORGET the guard and run!
But then we have no leverage. If we have no leverage, we’re as good as dead.
We will be dead if you don’t get us moving!
But-
Give me control back! We got to run.
No. I’m in charge of the body; we’re doing this my way.
It’s my body and I’ll make the calls. With that they started to struggle for power. They heard a bunch of tiny clicks and turned to see all the guards surrounding them, all with guns drawn and aimed. “Well, crap,” they said in unison.
You can have your body back now.
Thanks. You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to me.
We can argue this later, but right now we have bigger problems.
“Experiment 134 RZ, do not move. If you let go of the guard and peacefully come to be detained, no one will get hurt,” one of the guards said, still training the gun on them.
Let’s back up toward the door a little more, and then on the count of three, I say we push the guard forward and then run.
Sounds like a plan, I’ll give you the body since you’re actually used to running in this thing, and I usually run as a quadruped. They started to slowly back up.
“Stay where you are 134 RZ! Don’t do anything rash.
Forget that! 1.
2.
3.
“NOW!” Pushing the guard forward, Rathbone turned and ran into the night. They were not far out of the city, and since they would blend and disappear more easily in a big city, they ran there.
***
When Rathbone awoke, the afternoon sun was streaming through the shed’s grime covered windows. Getting to his feet, he could feel the stiffness in his legs from last night’s run.
I’m hungry.
Me too, but we are in a huge city, with no money, hospital style clothes, and a whole bunch of angry guards and scientists on our trail, not exactly the best odds.
Oh, you have so much to learn. First off let’s start by grabbing some of the clothes off the clothesline just outside, and then we’ll tour the city.
But what about money?
Who needs money when one has magic?
Oh boy. Rathbone just shook his head, hoping that they wouldn’t be caug
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Spork or not to Spork: Could a name change be in the works?
Spork is the Hudson High School Art and Literary Magazine and it may be getting even more of make-over. This year Spork has been going through a ton of new changes such as a different looking blog, a new editorial staff. Whats next? Changing the name!
On the Monday November eight the editorial staff started the meeting off with a conversation about the name. And we decided that we wanted to change it. On Tuesday November fifteenth the editorial board will meet again and vote for a new name.
Stay posted to find out all of the new Spork! news by checking this blog!
-John McLean; Editor in Chief.
On the Monday November eight the editorial staff started the meeting off with a conversation about the name. And we decided that we wanted to change it. On Tuesday November fifteenth the editorial board will meet again and vote for a new name.
Stay posted to find out all of the new Spork! news by checking this blog!
-John McLean; Editor in Chief.
Take Time To Thank A Veteran Tomorrow by John McClellan (This article was previously published fifteen years ago in the Hudson Sun.)
I read in the paper today about the death of a man who never knew me, even though our paths and crossed on more than one occasion. I found out through his obituary some things that I never would have known about this man if I hadn't read it in the paper.
I first saw Joe "The Hook" about twenty-three years ago when my life was all about struggling through school, "hanging the Main," and trying to come to terms with my country's involvement in the Vietnam War. After school most days my friends and I would go down-town to sit on the wall or the town hall lawn to just enjoy the day and our youth. Once in a while Joe, a guy who looked much like Jimmy Durante, would come by and play a tune on the spoons or his harmonica for us. He really wasn't one of us, but he wasn't one of the regular establishment of adults, either. He was a nice guy, and never seemed to bother any-one.
Back on the home-front I had two brothers in the military, Paul in the Army, and Dan in the Marines. Both had enlisted voluntarily in the service of their country during a time when other guys their age were dodging an unfair, unjust draft system. They even signed up to each do a tour of duty in Vietnam. I had a hard time understanding their logic, as I was active in the movement to end this horrible, terrible war. I was as active as a fifteen year old could be. I went to the anti-war rallies, wrote letters to the government, and showed support for the anti-war movement whenever I could. I felt so strongly that the United States was totally wrong about this war that I did not even stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance or participate in the singing of the National Anthem at school or anywhere else. My brothers and their friends shouldn't have been in Vietnam,and I felt that it was my country's fault they were.
Well, the war ended, and both of my brothers came home physically unharmed from the war. Unfortunately, some of their friends did not. I was still bitter about the whole Vietnam thing, but happy to have my brothers back.
We all got older. Dan did his duty and moved on to a regular life. Paul remained in the service, and another brother, Tom and my sister Margaret joined the military. I quit hanging the Main; and started going to bars and clubs and drove my motorcycle and enjoyed the freedoms that my brothers and my father fought for. I ran across Joe "The Hook" now and again, and by now just considered him a regular part of the Hudson scene, like so many other people I see, but don't know.
One day my brother Paul and I were watching a military formations marching past us, flags flying, and veterans in uniform, with a whole patriotic feel to the event. I was sitting on the sidelines on a bale of hay, when Paul bent down and whispered in my ear "Stand up when the flag goes by." I didn't stand up, nor did I think of standing up. I just shrugged it off as "Paul's thing" while I was doing "my thing." Paul never raised his voice to me in his life before, and always would try to understand my feelings and ideas, but after this event, back at home, Paul and I got into the biggest argument that I had even gotten into with anyone in my life. He convinced me that day of the importance of Patriotism and Love for country. Since that day, I have never remained seated when the flag went by.
Today I read in the paper that Joe was a veteran of World War II, had received the Purple Heart Medal and four Bronze Stars and had served his country honorably. This got me to thinking about all of the times I could have told "The Hook," and all the other who never made it back to their hometowns "Thanks, thanks for having what it takes to join your fellow veterans to keep America safe and free for me and my friends."
My brother Paul is gone now, and so is Joe, and Dave Palmieri, and Kenny Thibault and my Father-in-law. I'll never be able to say thanks to them, but on Nov. 11, Veterans' Day, I'm going to observe the local Veterans' Day Services, rain or shine, and I;m going to stand up when the flag goes by, and I'll make sure that my kids do, too. I will also be thanking every veteran from the bottom of my heart, and I hope and pray that if you know a veteran you will do them a favor and let them know that you appreciate what they've done for us. Please thank them in person, before they're gone.
Thank you, Veterans everywhere, and God Bless America.
I first saw Joe "The Hook" about twenty-three years ago when my life was all about struggling through school, "hanging the Main," and trying to come to terms with my country's involvement in the Vietnam War. After school most days my friends and I would go down-town to sit on the wall or the town hall lawn to just enjoy the day and our youth. Once in a while Joe, a guy who looked much like Jimmy Durante, would come by and play a tune on the spoons or his harmonica for us. He really wasn't one of us, but he wasn't one of the regular establishment of adults, either. He was a nice guy, and never seemed to bother any-one.
Back on the home-front I had two brothers in the military, Paul in the Army, and Dan in the Marines. Both had enlisted voluntarily in the service of their country during a time when other guys their age were dodging an unfair, unjust draft system. They even signed up to each do a tour of duty in Vietnam. I had a hard time understanding their logic, as I was active in the movement to end this horrible, terrible war. I was as active as a fifteen year old could be. I went to the anti-war rallies, wrote letters to the government, and showed support for the anti-war movement whenever I could. I felt so strongly that the United States was totally wrong about this war that I did not even stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance or participate in the singing of the National Anthem at school or anywhere else. My brothers and their friends shouldn't have been in Vietnam,and I felt that it was my country's fault they were.
Well, the war ended, and both of my brothers came home physically unharmed from the war. Unfortunately, some of their friends did not. I was still bitter about the whole Vietnam thing, but happy to have my brothers back.
We all got older. Dan did his duty and moved on to a regular life. Paul remained in the service, and another brother, Tom and my sister Margaret joined the military. I quit hanging the Main; and started going to bars and clubs and drove my motorcycle and enjoyed the freedoms that my brothers and my father fought for. I ran across Joe "The Hook" now and again, and by now just considered him a regular part of the Hudson scene, like so many other people I see, but don't know.
One day my brother Paul and I were watching a military formations marching past us, flags flying, and veterans in uniform, with a whole patriotic feel to the event. I was sitting on the sidelines on a bale of hay, when Paul bent down and whispered in my ear "Stand up when the flag goes by." I didn't stand up, nor did I think of standing up. I just shrugged it off as "Paul's thing" while I was doing "my thing." Paul never raised his voice to me in his life before, and always would try to understand my feelings and ideas, but after this event, back at home, Paul and I got into the biggest argument that I had even gotten into with anyone in my life. He convinced me that day of the importance of Patriotism and Love for country. Since that day, I have never remained seated when the flag went by.
Today I read in the paper that Joe was a veteran of World War II, had received the Purple Heart Medal and four Bronze Stars and had served his country honorably. This got me to thinking about all of the times I could have told "The Hook," and all the other who never made it back to their hometowns "Thanks, thanks for having what it takes to join your fellow veterans to keep America safe and free for me and my friends."
My brother Paul is gone now, and so is Joe, and Dave Palmieri, and Kenny Thibault and my Father-in-law. I'll never be able to say thanks to them, but on Nov. 11, Veterans' Day, I'm going to observe the local Veterans' Day Services, rain or shine, and I;m going to stand up when the flag goes by, and I'll make sure that my kids do, too. I will also be thanking every veteran from the bottom of my heart, and I hope and pray that if you know a veteran you will do them a favor and let them know that you appreciate what they've done for us. Please thank them in person, before they're gone.
Thank you, Veterans everywhere, and God Bless America.
Light by John McLean
Movement;
A spark glowing in the transcendent light
Moving through one's body
Across the wood.
Dancing along the words
Singing on the limbs
Words being expressed through
Jump, kick, lift, run.
Spot;
Damned spot!
Showing flaw,
Showing pain.
All in the spotlight.
A spark glowing in the transcendent light
Moving through one's body
Across the wood.
Dancing along the words
Singing on the limbs
Words being expressed through
Jump, kick, lift, run.
Spot;
Damned spot!
Showing flaw,
Showing pain.
All in the spotlight.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Baked Potatoes by Catherine Zacchilli
Poking holes in the top and the sides of the
raw potato makes my stomach growl.
I open the door to the black microwave,
and hit the baked potato button hoping it will be
done soon.
Having the potato going around in
circles, on the glass plate in the
microwave, makes me go insane.
I just have to walk away, until
I hear the microwave make a sound.
Which sounds like,
BEEP!
The butter inside the cut backed potato
slowly begins to melt.
Topped with sour cream, melted cheese, and
bacon bites.
I stab my fork on the end of the potato
to get a piece of the
irresistible
baked potato.
As I keep eating the baked potato,
it keeps getting smaller and smaller.
I use the last few pieces to clean
the sour cream up from my plate.
The last bite makes me sad,
because its gone.
Once I finish the baked potato,
I am stuffed from the loaded baked potato.
The baked potato can not last forever.
raw potato makes my stomach growl.
I open the door to the black microwave,
and hit the baked potato button hoping it will be
done soon.
Having the potato going around in
circles, on the glass plate in the
microwave, makes me go insane.
I just have to walk away, until
I hear the microwave make a sound.
Which sounds like,
BEEP!
The butter inside the cut backed potato
slowly begins to melt.
Topped with sour cream, melted cheese, and
bacon bites.
I stab my fork on the end of the potato
to get a piece of the
irresistible
baked potato.
As I keep eating the baked potato,
it keeps getting smaller and smaller.
I use the last few pieces to clean
the sour cream up from my plate.
The last bite makes me sad,
because its gone.
Once I finish the baked potato,
I am stuffed from the loaded baked potato.
The baked potato can not last forever.
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