10 April 2024

All Over Again

By Bud Koenemund

I think about you
every day. And, miss you
all over again.

02 February 2024


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.

22 January 2024

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.

27 December 2023

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.

25 December 2023

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.”

19 December 2023

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.

07 November 2023


By Bud Koenemund

For Tahni

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

26 October 2023


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.

02 October 2023

'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.

07 June 2023

I am the Very Model of a Modern Model Officer

I am the Very Model of a Modern Model Officer
(Sung to the tune of Gilbert and Sullivan’s I am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General.)
By Bud Koenemund

I am the very model of a modern Model Officer;
Each day I deal with passengers both fanciful and comical;
I know the checkpoint positions, and work through them rotational;
From the floor, up to baggage, out on Atlas; I can do it all.

I know the SOP backwards and forwards unequivocal;
I quote the book so often some will surely call me know-it-all;
I follow every rule, even ones seeming antithetical,
Obliged to satisfy all my leaders organizational.

I endeavor to keep my TIP score greatly astronomical,
While keeping watch for explosives both man-made and organical;
I advise people to divest large objects electronical,
And, when their laptops are discovered they are held responsible.

At AIT, I operate the scanner most methodical,
To complete screening of folks who rarely step in a shower stall;
My actions keep the country safe from forces diabolical,
As I pat down groins to find things not strictly anatomical.

I deliberate on amounts of liquids, gels, and aerosols.
Without remorse, I dispose of bottles containing alcohol;
I toss away peanut butter according to our protocol;
And, seize all weapons ranging from pocket knives up to cannonballs.

I screen dogs, and cats, and fish, and every kind of animal;
I stumble upon Coke, and Meth, and other drugs botanical;
While avoiding Personal Pleasure Devices mechanical;
Striving to make our bag searches invasively minimal.

I beg for OLC time, and computers operational,
Completing, and repeating, courses which fade quickly from recall;
And attend Training Department classes battling caffeine withdrawal;
While learning ways to counter every threat geographical.

I attempt to maintain sanity with comments sarcastical;
Questioning passenger’s excuses and stories fantastical;
Maneuvering precisely around people packed-in wall-to-wall;
And, every day I ask myself why do I put up with it all?

In truth, my time here has been nothing short of tragi-comical;
I’ve witnessed displays of stupidity that are phenomenal;
I’ll take my pay from TSA until I hit the Powerball;
I am the very model of a modern Model Officer.