“eat all of our food? Rude.” By Julia in N’s kitchen

Friday February 16, 2018
8:03pm
5 minutes
Flushed
David Delisca

When Harley stays with us on Tuesdays and Thursdays cause it’s closer to the hospital
he buys us hot dogs and
orders pizza
He doesn’t want us to make him anything special simply
because he’s dying
He’d rather eat out of the garbage
can than put us out any more
than he thinks he is already
On Mondays and Wednesdays
Mitch goes out to pick up
the groceries he thinks Harley
might like to snack on when
he thinks the rest of us aren’t
paying attention
Fruit by the foot and Reese’s
Peanut butter Puffs
Organic strawberries and Oreos
We stock the cupboards just
in case

“Popeye was right!” by Julia on the reading chair


Friday June 16, 2017
9:36pm
5 minutes
La Dolce Vegan
Sarah Kramer


It was the night he bought two bags of spinach for five dollars. He waved them in the air like soft trophies. I thanked him for thinking ahead. He had already congratulated himself for scoring the deal. Later, because all bad nights start somehow, he asked if I was planning to make dinner at all this week. I said no. He thought I was kidding. He came in for a kiss. I bit his lip. Then I blacked-out.

“Is the crisper only for lettuce?” By Sasha at the CSI Coffee Pub


Wednesday, October 2, 2013 at the CSI Coffee Pub
9:42am
5 minutes
Susan’s warm-up in the these five minutes: resident writing group

Kath splurged and went to Whole Foods. She bought artichokes to roast and a big slab of parmesan cheese. She bought organic face cream and a bar of dark chocolate with cranberries for Jerry. When she got home, he was napping. He’d fallen asleep with his glasses on, and she carefully plucked them off of his nose and put them on the bedside table. She was glad. She was glad that he was napping. She put the groceries away, wiping the fridge shelves beforehand, just how she liked. She preheated the oven for the artichokes. “Hey, honey,” said Jerry, stretching wide. This round of radiation had made him look like a different man. “Who did I marry?” she thought. She couldn’t get used to his baldness.

“As Aristotle says” by Sasha at her desk


Tuesday, April 23, 2013
10:45pm
5 minutes
The Screenwriter’s Workbook
Syd Field


Jasmine wrote down the list for Barry, like she always did, on a scrap of paper. Maybe an old receipt, or a piece of the newspaper.
Lettuce
Tomatoes
Cucumber
Marmelade
Cat Food
Spaghetti
Cottage Cheese
Toilet Paper

“Don’ forget the cat food! The wet kind! We got enough of that kibble to last us til’ Christmas!” Jasmine called, as Barry tied his scarf and opened the front door to go. She’d had her license taken away. She couldn’t help herself. Barry, thank goodness, was as patient as an owl.

He returned about a half hour later. Jasmine was making tea, watching as Burt, their grey tabby, sitting on the windowsill, licked her back. When Jasmine heard his key in the lock she rushed to the entrance way. He produced the list. She took it to the kitchen. He followed with the grocery bags. She unpacked each item, crossing it off the list.