Just a Thought...

By Bud Koenemund

Here's a little lesson I taught at physical therapy yesterday. A few therapists and patients were discussing the woeful performance of the Pittsburgh Pirates. They lamented that the team never really gets better. Now, it's well known that the team owner doesn't spend a lot (in relative terms) of money on the team. So, I explained that if they really wanted the team to get better, they should stop watching them; stop buying their merchandise, and stop going to their games. The owner has shown that he will give you what you accept. If you accept a team that struggles -- year after year -- to remain in the middle of the standings, that's what the owner will give -- while still making money for himself.
I told them this also translates to shopping. Does it annoy you when you go to Walmart, and they only have one cashier on duty -- while having 10-20 "self-checkout" lanes open? You're in a hurry, so you ring up your items (sans any kind of employee discount for doing their job). All while being watched by one employee and multiple cameras to ensure you're not cheating them by not ringing up every item. Well, it's the same principle. If you show Walmart that you'll do their job for them, they'll give you what you'll accept. Why put more cashiers on duty if the people will do it themselves?
But, if -- and I know this would be an inconvenience for a day, or two -- if 27 shoppers lined up at the one manned cash register, and refused to use the self-checkout lane, it would force Walmart to open another lane. And, if it happened again the next day, Walmart might get the message.
Well, it's just a thought.

All Over Again

By Bud Koenemund

I think about you

every day. And, miss you

all over again.

Debt

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  He started, sensing a presence behind him.
  “There aren’t many people who can sneak up on me,” he reflected.
  “I didn’t,” the form replied, quietly. “I’ve followed you for a long time; since your very beginning, in fact. And, waited patiently.”
  “I was a good man… once,” he whispered, as realization dawned. “After I was broken, it just became too painful to care.”
  “Life is often that way,” the figure offered. “But, I am not here to judge; only to collect the debt each man must pay.”
  Examining his own body on the ground, he nodded; then turned to follow.

The Inevitability of Things

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

Inspired by Christina Alvarado

  He’s always there. Always following. Steadily gaining ground. Inexorably closing in.
  Too often, he’s forgotten in the rush of life – until he visits someone close, and we’re reminded of the inevitability of things.
  He arrives without joy or malice. He makes no bargains for more time. He expects acceptance, though he is never surprised when people attempt escape.
  I turn quickly, trying to catch a glimpse. He is standing in the shadows. Not hiding – that’s not his way. Moonlight glints off the blade of his scythe.
  “Memento mori,” he whispers.
  I give a knowing nod, and turn to walk on.

The Devil and the Darkness

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For M.

  Michelle had a boyfriend she loved. But – from time to time – she needed to see Brian. He wasn’t a friend with benefits… not exactly. Brian was, she thought, the Devil. Somehow, he knew her darkest desires. Often, she felt shame at the disgusting things he made her do – acts she would never reveal to another living soul. Then, she’d admit to herself that he never forced her to do anything, and that she enjoyed the way he made her cum over and over. She’d feel the warm tingle between her legs and pick up her phone to call him again.

Heaven and Hell

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay.

  “My boyfriend is in the other room,” she rasped, as his right hand slipped under her skirt and up between her legs.
  “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.
  The fingers of his left hand entangled in her hair. He tugged, tilting her head back; exposing her neck to his lips.
  “Tell me to stop,” he mumbled, his mouth barely leaving her flesh, “and I will.”
  “You’re going to send me to hell,” she objected; already fighting for breath.
  In the darkness, his lips curved into a wicked grin.
  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But, I’ll take you to heaven first.”

Fuck Cancer!

Dear Santa;

  I know it's a bit late in the game (it being less than a week before Christmas and all), but I'd like to change my wish list. I asked for a handful of things that are sort of silly. But, what I really want -- NEED -- is a cure for cancer.

  Not for myself, of course. I don't have the medical need. And, I'd never be able to figure out all that medical/science-y stuff. (Damn it, Jim; I'm a sonneteer, not a doctor.)

  But, if you could drop it off to someone at Sloan Kettering in New York City, I'd really appreciate it.

  PS: This would square us for that whole never giving me a BB gun thing.

Mute

By Bud Koenemund

For Tahni

Thoughts of you persist;
Impure desires o’erwhelm,
yet I remain mute.

Retreat

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For "Her."

  His eyes were drawn to her instantly. Like a firefly in the dark, she was a brilliant flash in the gloom. Catching sight of him, she waved. Memories flooded his brain: how he'd craved her like a drug; the indescribable pain of her leaving; how he'd desperately clung to shreds of sanity while hoping she'd come back, and how she did – more times than he'd admit – only to abandon him once he'd surrendered again. In that moment, his heart realized – finally, reluctantly, accepting – loving her would always end that way. He managed a weary smile, then turned to walk away.

'Twas the Night Before Shutdown

By Bud Koenemund

With apologies to Clement Moore

‘Twas the night before shutdown,
And all through PIT land
Every creature was stirring,
From podium to TDC stand.

The new hires were nestled close to their coaches
As a winding queue full of passengers approached.
Laptops were divested by DOs with care,
Along with shoes, and CPAPs, and products for hair.

X-ray ops still kept a keen eye;
Detecting those objects prohibited to fly.
And, bag checkers checked, as they are wont to do,
Ensuring those gigantic masses are only food.

AIT officers begged people to empty their pockets
Of coins, candy, gum, papers, and lockets;
Then, cleared inevitable groin alarms
Using a firm hashtag pattern, but causing no harm.

The Leads went mad, managing multiple lanes,
While half their team members moaned and complained
About getting their breaks and lunches too early or too late;
A daily occurrence that’s beginning to grate.

Supes ran forward and back, for numbers and IDs;
And, watched the organized chaos of their busy bees
Striving to keep the skies safe for democracy,
So that people and commerce can flow carefree.

Then, down in Washington, arose such a clatter –
A sad, sobering reminder that politics matter –
Our Representatives debated both to and fro
While in the balance hung the TSA’s payroll.

And, in the mind of each employee essential,
Crept the lack of a budget, and the shutdown potential.
They fretted ‘bout food, gas, and mortgages or rent;
Worrying over every single dollar and cent.

Though, as they work, they’ll find comfort in knowing
Congress gets paid while their anxiety’s growing;
Concerned about utilities and college tuition;
Left, by politicians, in compromising positions.

They are the red-headed step-children; considered exempt;
By the General Schedule held below contempt.
But, they show up and do their job day after day;
Even sometimes… occasionally… far too oft’… without pay.