KB's Basic Blog

There was only one set of headlights traveling down the highway toward the remains of San Francisco on the morning that marked ten years since the end of the world.   To celebrate this day of memorial all three radio stations left in California decided the appropriate course of action was to unironically play R.E.M’s “It’s the End of the World” on repeat, for 24 hours.     Sasha was into it for the first few hours, but after singing her heart out about the fall of New York City, the flooding of New Orleans, the bombing of DC and the rise of Alaska she was starting to feel a bit depressed.   As Sasha dug through the hundreds of loose CD’s in her front seat for something a little more upbeat she heard the tell-tale “thump-thump” of running over something.   Moments later the cloying smell of skunk filled her car. Half choking Sasha unrolled her window and desperately grabbed for  “The Yellow Book: Guide to Safe Travels in a New World” that resided in her visor.    Head half out th

To the Wolf Spider Living in my Bathroom: At the dawn of time humans and spiders struck an accord of which you are currently breaking.   Our ancestors swore oaths that we are expected to uphold.   I have kept my end of the bargain and do well to ignore you and your kind when I encounter you outdoors. Even when one of you grows to the size of a small plate and I find you in my canoe.   You greatly hastened our approach to land, and I appreciate that you were so gracious as to hide under the seat and scurried away so quickly the moment we hit dry land.   It was an accident on both our parts. The accords make room for mistakes. Yet here you are, in my home and clearly in my line of sight.   You flaunt yourself and your size intimidates me.   You are far too large for a paper towel even if I could reach you.   So here I sit wrapped in a bath towel trying to negotiate with an eight-legged terrorist. “Please,” I beg “if only you would move behind the dryer where I could

Deep breath of fresh air between the calms before the storms

Coat room attendant at the Blue Loon was Denise’s third and favorite job.   As a college student the late-night shifts made for rough morning classes, but she wouldn’t give up those slow nights for anything.   On Wednesday’s she could slip out of the darkened room by the entrance and play her songs to the few hard-core drunks that frequented the establishment for open mic night.   On Thursday’s she could watch the double feature with her shift meal, and it was always exciting to meet the big-name bands that came through to play when she showed them to the green room.   She would never admit it to her mother, but one of the highlights of her life was smoking weed with Snoop Dog before his summer show. One night, deep in the chill of January, Denise was inundated with fake Chanel purses that woman in tight dresses insisted were real.   Club nights were the worst nights.   She could never feel comfortable with saying “That will be twenty-five dollars for the V-Jay” which is what t

Mr. Coleman’s spring cart was stuck in the sand just outside a small town deep in the Nabian desert.  He came to strike it rich in African diamonds, but by fall the town would be gone.  The gold rush had moved to the coast. * This is my first ever attempt at Microprose, so feedback is especially appreciated*