By Dean Steadman
Dew worms bulge on the sidewalks. Long and veiny. Their musk permeates the spring air. Darlene thinks of her personal trainer.
She’s walking to the gym, trying to ignore the worms squashed by tots in oversized rain gear. She focuses on her morning workout. The floor exercises, recumbent bike, her trainer’s evident manhood. Darlene’s lost 10 pounds in 2 weeks.
During today’s routine, Darlene’s trainer advocates a carb-free diet. “No pasta,” he proposes. “Your lips have slurped their last noodle.”
Heading homeward, a chill wind blows. Plump redbreasts bounce about with worms dangling from their beaks, content with all things wiggly.
Hi Dean,
I like how you used worms and noodles. Reminds me of a child refusing to eat one because it looks like the other.
I was a bit lost because I thought she was walking to the gym, and thinking about her routines. But then she was homeward bound and it threw me.
Nice way of describing the trainer. Seems like they are the same no matter where you go.
Lisa
There was a lot to like about this. The writing, the imagery. For me it was sad. Women believing that only thin is beautiful. Wiggly can be sexy.
There are three wormy noodles in this story. Only one is “evident.”
Is there supposed to be irony here or what?
sorry, but even the comparison with worms doesn’t put me off pasta. Nice try though.
Great story. Very well done! I read this every day, and have even contributed one myself. This is up there with the top of the heap. ?