drunk(en lion)

What’s so unpleasant about being drunk?
Ask a glass of water!

– Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

swirled, and shaken,

not, stirred

grappa, gripped, grasped and gratuitously groggy

swallow

me

don’t,

remember

me

is your

thirst,

quenched?


for laura’s literary lion – drink me with a nod to the shout out for my previous (and punctuation free) dip into the  maw of the lion 

pool

the pool had been there almost as long as he could remember but as his brain battled with the theory of surface tension he struggled to remember just how long he had been aware of its existence and what it had come to mean and as all this bubbled up from the recesses of his mind he realised that the inky black depths were calling to him and despite knowing that this could never have a happy ending he could not resist leaning ever closer trying to focus on what he thought he could see reflected in its cold meniscus


a story in one hundred words for laura’s literary lion – pool