This is not the time, Louie, and this is not the place. You're out of line and you should be ashamed. Say you're sorry. He's sorry, ma'am. He forgets even himself sometimes. I'll see to him personally, later. But do we have a deal for you today. Mother's little helper. Feast your eyes!
Ochre Idyls
Poems, Haiku/Tanka, Short Fictions