Good Morning.

"There is no such thing as Friday."
Who said that? She opened her eyes.
Lying beside her on the bed was a bureau with one long row of small, flat drawers. It looked familiar, though she couldn't remeber where she'd seen it before. She squinted to read the labels, punched out in plastic label-tape and placed perfectly symmetrically below each handle. Sunday. Saturday. Friday. Thursday. The other three were too far down the bed to make out.
"There is no such thing as Friday."
The voice came from beyond the bureau. She couldn't see anyone, but the air looked less dense there than usual. It was sparkling. Small specks of dust, or whetever they were, danced outwards towards the open window in an appealing, beckoning way. She smiled. Why not? It was Spring! She began to untangle herself from the bedclothes, feeling light as air herself. Suddenly, a harsh sound sliced through the room. The dust specks froze. The bureau expanded before her eyes. She felt the weight rush back into her arms and legs, and her head was pressed down against her pillow. She grabbed the bedclothes as the bed slowly tipped, and the huge drawer labeled Friday slid open and swallowed her. Inside was the alarm clock.


Here You Go, Ma'am.

A rare Liberty Steak and a small portion of Freedom Fries.



The first fly of spring rounded the house, turned left at the open window. and dove into my sleeping ear.

Further fly tales to follow. Among others.