Saturday, May 27, 2023

Breakfast Pest

No minikin that! On my table a thin imp, barely an inch, stood barbecuing a midge. He’d kindled some twigs, held the midge on a long sliver.

“How did you light that fire?”

“I’m an imp. Fire’s a given.”

“You’ll singe my wood finish.”

“So try to dislodge me. See how it goes.”

A glint in his tiny lizard eyes.

I sighed. I rose and limped to the kitchen. Not for a stick, but to fix coffee.

Truth is, the last imp put a crimp in my hip.


Anonymous said...

Genius and economic. Kinda like a Haiku and a cartoon all at once.

Anonymous said...

How I curse the fate that

Linda Balgord said...

Come on, Eric - give us an update on what you’re doing these days. Some small, teasing taste of future work; it would make us very happy!

Anonymous said...

Now that’s funny, that is. Why don’t you send us an email, you cad?

Anonymous said...

An email?! I once had your email address scribbled down on a piece of loose paper; somewhere in the margins.