(Author’s Note: Just like last week, nothing new. Enjoy!)
© David Stewart
Till The Money Runs Out by Miles H. Rost
“This is moronic.”
Paul Daniels wouldn’t stop grumbling, and his co-worker Jake Byers had enough. “Look, Paul. To continue doing what we do, we need money. They are paying us $5,000 each to set up all these eggs in the lake.” “But it’s stupid. Why does anyone need to have a gender reveal party?” Jake stood up and scowled. “Hey, at least they’re not firing off colored explosives in dry grassland like that family did down in Yucaipa last year.” Paul couldn’t fight that point. “At least we’ll get to rest after this.” “Only till the money runs out.” “Dammit.”
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(Author’s note: Not much to report. Here’s today’s great work!)
© Roger Bultot
Down By The Sea
by Miles H. Rost
“Oi! We’re goin’ for brekkie. Wanna go?”
Laying out in the ever increasing light of the morning sun, Paul was at his glory. He gave them a shake of the head, as he continued to tan.
“That’s on you! It’s gonna be a ripper.”
“It’s going to be over 40 today. I want to get my sun before staying inside and roasting.”
The boys all just left, as Paul took in the sea air that came up from Port Phillip Bay. He loved the morning, when it was sunny but still cool.
This was rest time. He wasn’t giving it up.
(Author’s note: Things are getting little better, and I’m likely getting more time to do writing work. You may see an uptick in original work soon. My job isn’t as tiring as it used to be. Enjoy today’s view!)
© C. E. Ayr
Upstairs In My House
by Miles H. Rost
The scenery was beautiful.
Westgate Bridge was far in the distance, but I could see it’s shadow looming on the water.
The setting sun brought forth it’s bright oranges and reds, a blanket to cover the entirety of Melbourne.
One of the hottest days of the year started moving down into a cooler and comfortable night. The lights of the CityLink, the sounds of Swanston, I could enjoy them all from my own place.
28th floor, looking down over the city. Temporarily. But it was still wonderful. It was a shame to leave it behind.
Such is the squatter’s life.