Poem of the Week (12/05/2010)
Hawk Roosting
by
Ted Hughes
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Poem of the Week (11/28/2010)
“Tonight I Can Write…”
by Pablo Neruda
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The Identity of Betty Rubble
Another installment from the Betty & Wilma series. This one serves as a followup to the previous piece. Hope you enjoy!
-J
__________________
The Identity of Betty Rubble
The robberies so far had been calculated risks and calculated successes. A dozen small miracles or feats of fate had transpired to get Wilma and Betty and Fred and Barney away cleanly each time—clean being a relative term. There were descriptions of them in a few newspapers and a little expose had run on television back in Bedrock, calling them the “Bedrock Bandits.” And now that they were four robberies deep maybe a few bastions of law and order here and there were beginning to catch wind of their spree, but the media, somehow, still seemed in the dark. Or maybe they just had bigger fish to fry. Dinosaurs were disappearing by the herdful of late and there seemed to be more theories than assholes and, thankfully, the assholes were good at taking up airtime and keeping little things like small town bank robberies to themselves.
Dive deeper…
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New Wilma & Betty Story (Trailer)
Here’s the “trailer” from the latest Wilma & Betty story (which I’ll be reading at Jengo’s Playhouse this Saturday night–May, 29th; 814 Princess Street @ 7:00pm). A little something to wet your palette.
Come out. Bring Friends. Hear the rest of the story.
-JM
“The Identity of Betty Rubble”
(opening)
There were banks a plenty in Rock Vegas but there were the casinos too. So Wilma was working on a strategy for taking her fair share of the Vegas limelight and the Vegas coin while Betty tried to look up an old acquaintance and Fred and Barney went about the business of developing healthy gambling addictions. See, Betty and Wilma had been here once before. A few years back, back when they first came to see that they didn’t owe their lives anything and, ultimately, every day was only a matter of what they wanted it to be. They’d come out here to Vegas and drank too much whiskey and maybe rode the white horse one time too many and spent too much time dancing with the men their husbands would never be and, now, sometimes, those memories came back to them.
Wilma was good enough about ignoring what this city was telling her. Her plate was full with thoughts on how to get into the Bellagirock vault and make off with a few million. But Betty, being better on the gun than on the planning table, Betty had nothing to do but remember Dive deeper…
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