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Wind slams the trailer. Dolores and Marty cook through the Nor’easter. JJ’s late. “He ain’t coming,” Marty says. “Time to sample the goods.” The blade slices the white mound, tap-tap-tapping crystalline lines on glass. “JJ’s gonna be pissed.” Dolores malt-liquored breath scatters the powder. Marty shrugs, rolls the twenty. Saliva gushes. The door blows open. |
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SNOWSTORM by Linda Simoni-Wastila
Filed under Linda Simoni-Wastila
Ha ha ha … I laughed out loud reading this, expecting something awful to happen but not quite that. Very funny and so succinct. Admirable.
I wondered if someone would go the drug route with Long Lines. Good job.
I had wanted to go with these particular lines but couldn’t figure out how; having the scene take place during a snowstorm was a particularly nice touch.
Really like the play on words.
Great play on words. nice!
Ticket to ride, white line highway
Tell all your friends, they can go my way
Pay your toll, sell your soul
Pound for pound costs more than gold
The longer you stay, the more you pay
My white lines go a long way
Either up your nose or through your vein
With nothin to gain except killin’ your brain.
Neat!
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