Emerald Dragon Archives

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Posted on January 9, 2011 at 5:46 PM Comments comments (2)

I pledge my allegiance to the Late Great America and pay my taxes to stay out of jail.  One nation, many aliens and welfare for all, of thee I sing.  I dare to fly over American sky without crying or profiling.  I will work without raises or medical insurance to support CEOs, banks and defunct automakers.  I will eat Hamburger Helper and toil in my vegetable garden, while prisoners eat steak, watch color TV and pump iron.  I will keep my children and my children’...

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Thirty Words

Posted on October 21, 2010 at 11:42 AM Comments comments (5)

Author’s Note:  Interesting challenge.  Thirty words, no more no less.



“I dare you,” I say.

He stoops low, runs forward and jumps.  The lake drinks him and burps.

“William!” I scream, but the water does not puke him back up.


The List

Posted on September 17, 2010 at 2:02 PM Comments comments (7)

A train whistle snaps me out of my trance, and I slow my run to a bouncing, stationary trot with my tennis shoes still pounding the dusty trail.  Every day, nearly every day, I run the three mile circuit down the River Trail and back again.  The short jog keeps the spare tire around my middle pared down to a flat donut.  Most of the time I keep my head down and my mind on the physical act of moving muscles and tendons.  This gets me from point A to point B, but I seldom st...

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Suing a Deity

Posted on August 31, 2010 at 8:46 AM Comments comments (10)

Author's Note:  Rated PG.  (So you guys have been funny lately.  I can do funny.)


The courtroom hummed. A hundred private and hushed conversations overlapped, as people adjusted their belongings, staked out their seats and prematurely opined on the outcome of my case.  A few snatches of gossip stung my ears, as the whisperers suggested that I didn’t stand a chance, yet none seemed to doubt the validity of my claims.  Voices sw...

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The Perils of Multitasking

Posted on August 12, 2010 at 5:56 PM Comments comments (12)

Smoke billowed from the vent eaves—wavy, boneless, grey arms, reaching for the sky and signaling for help.  Discombobulated by the sight, Harry eased his car into the driveway, anyway.  In a matter of seconds flames burst through the roof and a section of lumber, shingles and insulation plunged into the living room.  The fire inhaled and then roared back out.  Tiny bits of his house, charred red and still hot, pelted down and rolled off the hood of his sedan.  H...

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