Condemned

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

Desire for you
will damn my eternal soul;
My lust condemns me.

I'm Burnin', I'm Burnin', I'm Burnin' for You!

By Bud Koenemund

  On this date in 2014, while working as a security guard at the headquarters of the Pittsburgh Steelers (a team I hate with the fire of 10,000 suns), I saved the building from burning to the ground.

  True story.

------------------------------

  Oh, so you want the long story?

  The Steelers had a guy come in to clean the very large hood over the stoves in the kitchen. He covered the stoves with cardboard -- to keep any soap from going in -- and hung plastic sheeting around the entire area.

  I went about my business while he banged around. I left the cafeteria to do my rounds. Upon ensuring that all three buildings within my area of responsibility were secure -- or relatively so -- I returned to the caf.

   While crossing the parking lot, I could see a flicking light -- a growing flickering -- through the windows and plastic.

  I expedited my return and located the cleaning guy in the supply room of the kitchen. I asked him -- already knowing the answer -- "Are there supposed to be flames?"

  He ran past me toward the stoves. I followed -- mostly out of morbid curiosity. He began removing flaming cardboard from the steel stoves -- located under steel hoods and backed by a stone tile wall -- and deposited it in a plastic garbage can filled with additional cardboard, plastic, and paper which then -- as if by magic; or, perhaps, merely science -- began burning.

  As he began to panic and blow on his singed fingers, I reached for the charged garden hose at our feet -- the hose he'd been using to clean the aforementioned hoods -- and proceeded to liberally apply water to everything in and around the garbage can -- including the cleaning guy.

  Luckily, our hero -- me. Or, you know, not -- extinguished the flames before they spread to the hanging plastic -- which led to the ceiling which was not made of steel -- and, more importantly, before the fire alarm activated.

  Cleaning guy had neglected to extinguish the pilot lights on the stoves before placing cardboard of them.

  Because the alarm did not activate, and the fire department did not respond, I did not write up an incident report that night. I figured the next day I would tell Steelers management what an idiot the cleaning guy was.

  I, of course, did not do another set of rounds until after the cleaning guy left.

  The next day, when I arrived at work, the head of Steelers security (not really my direct supervisor) told me he needed a report of what happened. So, I wrote up a version of the events, and included 27 8 by 10 color, glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what it was.

  To this day, only one person from the Steelers organization has ever said thank you.

Two Haiku

By Bud Koenemund

Muse
For Lindsay

Her body sates lust;
but her bright green eyes ignite
imagination.


Human
For Lindsay

Lust makes me a fool;
love makes me an idiot.
Both make me human.

Lessons Unlearned

By Bud Koenemund

For "The Three"

My inebriate
heart too often overrules
sober intellect.

Sunshine and Rain

By Bud Koenemund

You, Love, are sunshine.
I’m rain. But, I am content,
for flowers need both.

Goodbye Democracy

By Bud Koenemund

(With apologies to Margaret Wise Brown)

Dedicated to those who would not look past their own wallet

In a great white house
There sits an orange man;
With an enemies list,
A Diet Coke, and bucket of chicken.

Oh, how he’ll brag, and spout, and lie –
A ManChild nothing short of bratty –
And set about doing the only job he has:
To destroy us from within for his Sugar Vladdy.

Goodbye NATO;
Goodbye Ukraine;
Goodbye Paris Climate Accord;
Welcome back acid rain.

Goodbye Supreme Court
And women’s rights, it seems;
So, too, LGBTQ protections;
Welcome Heritage Foundation’s religious wet dreams.

Goodbye to bodily autonomy;
Goodbye to abortion;
Goodbye to proper health care;
Welcome, once more, medical burden.

Goodbye to equal rights for People of Color;
Goodbye to those lost in mass deportations;
Goodbye to non-partisan government employees;
Welcome back those found guilty of insurrection.

Goodbye Social Security;
Goodbye Medicare;
Goodbye prescription drug caps,
And Obama’s Affordable Care.

Goodbye independent DoJ and FBI;
Goodbye Department of Education;
Goodbye school breakfast and lunch;
Welcome the dangers of deregulation.

Goodbye student debt relief;
Goodbye teaching history;
Goodbye to the truth,
And banned books they call “pornography.”

Goodbye to diversity;
Goodbye to voting rights;
Goodbye to clean energy;
Welcome to Mango Mussolini’s free speech blight.

Goodbye to overtime;
Hello to tariffs on every nation;
Goodbye to taxes for the rich;
While the middle class suffers inflation.

Goodbye Democracy;
You had a pretty good run;
Achieving so much good;
But, by ignorance, undone.

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.

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.

Salvation

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

Inspired by J.S.

  He found something almost religious in making a woman cum; something beyond her calling out to a deity who may or may not exist; beyond the sound of her breathing; the taste of her; the smell of her; the feel of her body. It was the look on her face as an orgasm consumed her – the purity; the erotic symmetry of pleasure and pain twisting her features – that promised salvation.
  Worshiping at her altar – knelt between her legs; his prayers kisses along inner thighs; fingers and tongue eliciting hymns of praise; bodies entangled – their holy spirits discovered ecstasy transcending flesh.

Confessions

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Every eye in the hall turned to seek the source of the explosion of laughter filling the air. Their attention focused on the most beautiful woman in the room – suddenly the most beautiful woman in the world – clinging tightly to his right arm. Her smile, and the slowly fading giggles she struggled to control, ignited a fire in his soul, and proved that she was the right one for him.
  Just moments before, she’d leaned close and whispered, “I’m not wearing panties tonight.”
  He’d carefully considered this confession for a second, gazed into her eyes, and said, “Neither am I.”

Busted

By Bud Koenemund

A 200 Word Story

  The two agents sat side by side in a pair of dark leather chairs. The Director of the Office of Professional Responsibility frowned as he stared at them from behind an impressive, hand-carved, mahogany desk. Half a dozen Bureau lawyers, and the agents’ union representatives, filled the rest of the room.
  “Normally, we don’t care if co-workers conduct a consensual relationship; as long as it doesn’t become a detriment to job performance,” the Director said. “Though, we do try to discourage partners from dating.”
  “Sir,” one of the union reps began. “We recognize this situation…”
  “But,” the Director continued, cutting off his response, “this will, in all probability, result in a lawsuit for cruel and unusual punishment.”
  The lawyers nodded in an almost comical unison.
  “While we do acknowledge… an unfortunate equipment mix up… due to the agents being called into service after their office received a tip in the middle of the night,” another union rep offered, waving his hand toward the two, “these agents did manage to apprehend one of our ’10 Most Wanted’ fugitives.”
  “And, they brought him in,” the Director exploded, “wearing fuzzy pink handcuffs!”
  Agents, union reps, and lawyers fought to muffle their laughter.

Love

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Exposition

  Love begins as the most perfect, pure thing in the whole world. Maybe in the entire universe. But, loving someone – even purely – is imperfect. Being loved by someone is imperfect. Doubt creeps in, weaving through every thought and action; playing tricks on the mind. Its shadow gathers – unnoticed, at first – ‘til trust and affection are obscured in darkness; strangled in a shroud of gloom.
  Once tarnished – its purity sullied – that perfection is lost forever. And, while love may be discovered again – may be tried and treasured – the heart knows its flaws. Still, despite contamination, our hearts long for love again.