Twittering Tales: Trina Makes Up Her Mind

Trina Makes Up Her Mind

Trina learned the power of ones and zeros from the
elephant God, Anjana.

Anjana took ones and zeros to make mice.

He taught Trina to use them to make minds.

Trina studied her mind for flaws; she trimmed it to
perfection.

When she finished, she used it to fly to New York.

239 characters

This is an entry for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #152–– 03 September, 2019

Twittering tales Kat Myrman
Twittering Tales Kat Myrman

Rob Goldstein 2019

Twittering Tales: The Televangelist

The Televangelist

The raging Televangelist stalked the stage like
a angry dragon and roared:

“You will atone for your sins or the god
of vengeance shall surely pierce your heart
with the sword of eternal anguish!”

I rocked the cradle so hard the baby fell into
supper.

226 Characters

© Rob Goldstein 2019

This is an entry for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #151 –– 20 August 2019

Twittering Tales Kat Myrman

 

Trina: Trina Tells a Story

This is the last entry in a series of stories that began with three prompts from D. Wallace Peach.

In the first story, Trina meets Anjana, the elephant and his family of white mice.

In the second story Trina meets a shadow boy who is separated from his ‘boy’.

In the third story the shadow boy and Trina find a golden android but lose him.

The May #PhotoPrompt from Myths of the Mirror
The May photo prompt from Myths of the Mirror

After that Diana stopped the prompts for personal reasons but the story continued.

Trina decided she needed more adults in her world so she made an adult doll.

An Illustration staged in virtual reality depicting the character of Trina designing an adult doll
Are you terribly grown up or grown up terribly?

Later, Trina and the shadow boy find the golden android on a display stand in Macy’s.

A photograph staged in VR depicting a little girl and a shadow boy standing in front of three robots
Trina and the Shadow Boy find the Android

Trina takes the android to her workshop, scrubs him up, and makes a new skin.

A digital photograph of a little girl and an android in a workshop for dolls
Trina Takes the Android to Her Workshop

In this episode, Trina brings the android and her doll to life.

The character of Trina is loosely based on the character of the Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

Caution: The story contains what some might consider ‘adult’ material.

People don’t dress like that in the past.

Trina Tells a Story

Trina pulled a picnic table out of her bag and placed it in front of her bench at the duck pond in Central Park.

She added her tea set and Madison, and her new doll, Felicity.

Madison scowled at Felicity’s outfit. “People don’t dress like that in the past.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a doll! How the Hell would I know? They just don’t.”

Trina sighed, opened her bag, pulled out her sewing machine, and set to work.

A few seconds later Trina had a new outfit for Felicity.

Trina dressed Felicity and asked her to stand. “Do you like it?” She asked.

“Very much.” Felicity replied.

“She looks like a tart.” Madison frowned.

Trina stuck her tongue out at Madison.

The shadow boy emerged from the shadows. ‘I think she’s pretty.”

The shadow boy emerged from the shadows. ‘I think she’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” Trina said to the shadow boy: she opened her bag, pulled out the android, and stood him next to Felicity.

Trina stepped back to admire him.

The little shadow boy tugged on the android’s arm, “How do we turn him on?”

Trina reached into her bag and pulled out a button. “With this,” she replied. She aimed the button at the android and pressed it.

The android whirred to life.

“Do you know the Android’s name?” Trina asked the shadow boy.

The little shadow boy thought for a moment. “His name is Roger.”

Trina turned to Madison, “Do you think he’s handsome?”

“He’s a stud.” Madison cackled.

The android, now named Roger, cocked his head.

Felicity silently agreed.

Trina pulled a desk out of her bag and sat to write their story.

Anjana and his mice appeared and everyone quietly gathered to watch.

Arjunda and his mice appeared and everyone quietly gathered to watch.

Somewhere, wrote Trina, by Marcy Bloomingdale of Queens New York

“Who is Marcy Bloomingdale of Queens New York?” asked Madison.

“It’s my pen name. Do- You- Mind?”

Madison scowled; Trina returned to her story.

Somewhere

by Marcy Bloomingdale of Queens New York

Felicity sits in a big red chair on the murky waters of
the Long Island Sound, she sings a song of seduction.

Roger cavorts on the shore, he is a straw man scattering breadcrumbs.

Tonight the moon rises as if this was some kind of night
in Hawaii.

Roger is transfixed.

The End.

“Somewhere” by Marcy Bloomingdale of Queens, New York

Trina stood for applause.

Anjana watched two of his mice play an intense game of tennis.

Madison scowled harder than ever.

The shadow boy cleared his throat. “I thought you said they were gown ups.”

“They are,” replied Trina.

“I think you should make them do ‘it’?”

Trina was baffled. “Why?

“Isn’t that the only thing grownups do?”

Felicity stifled a smile.

The android raised his hand:  “What is ‘it’ and how is it done?”

Trina was lost.

Anjana raised his trunk to whisper what he knew:  ‘Now, I’m no hominid,’ he
began…

A mortified Trina returned to her desk.

Somewhere

By Marcy Bloomingdale of Queens, New York

Roger and Felicity are doing ‘it’ on a big red bed on the murky
waters of the Long Island Sound.

“God!” Roger sighs , as he fills Felicity’s robust aperture.

“God back,” Felicity grins.

At last, unable to restrain his ghastly lust, Roger trumpets and ejects the squirmy substance of his love.

The End

Anjana stood up on his hind legs and gave Trina a standing ovation. “Bravo!”

The shadow boy did a somersault.

Felicity blushed and glanced at Roger.

“That was mighty fine!” said Roger. “That was mighty fine indeed!”

Trina curtsied and said thank you.

She packed everything except Felicity and Roger into her bag.

“Remember to forget you’re not real.” she said.

Then Trina picked up her bag and vanished.

Roger and Felicity

 

(c) Rob Goldstein 2019

The characters are fictional,  anyone resemblance to anyone other than me is
purely coincidental.

 

#FlashFiction: Shoot me for Jesus

In this piece, a homeless vet writes to a friend. I used a composite of the stories I heard as a therapist who worked with homeless vets in San Francisco.

7/04/2012

Hey Kev

Thought I’d drop you a few lines since this week makes
five years since we left Iraq.

I know you say you ain’t the same without ur leg but I hope
ur feeling better.

I’ll feel hella better when I throw out these pills for crazies.

Why does the fuckin’ V.A. give me pills when I say I need food?

Why don’t shrinks know people go crazy from hunger?

My partner died of AIDS last year, so I got no one to talk to, so I
went to Reno last month.

The ticket was a free one way, so I figured I’d go see family.

That was a big mistake.

My bitch of a sister wouldn’t let me meet my nephew ‘cause I came out gay.

Her Holy Roller husband kept sayin’ he’d shoot me for Jesus.

I told them to kiss my faggot ass!

I spent the rest of my money for a one way back to Frisco.

That’s life for uppity fags and burnt out war heroes.

I keep hoping you’ll send me a card so I know ur alive.

I’d call but I can’t buy a phone.

I get $300 a month General Assistance and it costs $200 for a week in a crap hotel, so’s I won’t have a place for the next three weeks, but please write to that address I sent anyways.

Please.

Love,

Zack

Homelsss people leave messages of anguish on the walls of alleys.
Homeless people write on the walls when they bed down to sleep in Clarion Alley.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2018 – revised August 2019