Spiral Coffee
“There’s a spiral in my coffee!” Luke protested.
“Don’t you like spirals?” His sister, Mandy, replied.
“Not in my coffee.”
“Where do you like them?”
“In my…”
“Eyes? Your words? Your mind?”
“Wherever you want them to be, sis,” he droned.
“I want them in your coffee.”
He nodded and continued drinking his orange juice.
I don’t drink coffee. I don’t like it. I do love orange juice though. I also love writing snippets where perception isn’t what we think it is as I’m sure you’ve already noticed by now. My first thought was to have this one be an Alexandra Ryder piece but as much as I love Alexandra (I have no choice but to love her given how hypnotically entrancing she is), Mandy Walker stepped in and said this was her show. I’m not going to be caught up in a mesmerizing debate between powerful, hypnotic ladies so…
I may have also used the image below as a basis to it all, even though it’s more of a swirl there than an actual spiral. It’s still something neat to look at it if you have a fascination for hypnosis (or even if you don’t).
Portugal Day
“Why are you so happy, Rose?” Connie asked.
“It’s Portugal Day!”
“So? Do you have Portuguese blood or something?”
“No. I never hypnotized a Portuguese man before. Seems like the perfect day to start, don’t you think?”
“I guess, but where are you going to find a Portuguese right now?”
“Well… Hello there, Mr. writer…”
Yesterday, I wrote I wouldn’t get caught in a mesmerizing fight between hypnotic women but, for some reason, my characters every now and then decide they want to hypnotize me or something. I wonder why?
Yes, I’m kidding, and simply having some silly fun with it all because without fun none of this matters in the end. June 10th is Portugal Day and I’m Portuguese so it’s appropriate to write something concerning it in some fashion. I chose a humorous piece, a little breaking of the fourth wall because it’s something I enjoy a lot. Characters interacting with writers, winking at the audience, realizing their nature as puppets in a larger tale, etc. All of those things are fascinating flights of fancy and I love flying in my mind. If you tell me you do too, we can be great friends.
Anyway, I have to stop writing now before Rose catches up with me. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.
Alchemy
“Why do you call yourself an alchemist?” Jackson asked.
“Because I turn everything into gold,” Marla replied.
“Really?”
“I turned your sorry ass into an obedient hard-working slave of mine, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” he sighed.
“Now imagine what will happen if I hypnotize you right now,” she cooed.
He did and his mind went blank.
Hypnotic women go by many names and/or titles. Some change your thought patterns overtly, others do it covertly. One thing is for certain: if you let them do what they’re good at, you’ll eventually become a better person because of it.
I wrote this piece to emphasize just that. Domination isn’t just about whips and chains although that aspect of it all can be fun and sexy as hell. Real dominance is something that sinks deep inside your brain and your soul, giving you strength and courage to try something new every day or simply cope with the existing daily aspects of your life. The alchemist metaphor is hardly new but it came to me precisely because I was listening to a piece of music entitled The Alchemist when I began writing it. The music is by Enigma, from the 2006 album A Posteriori.
Deflated
He felt the pressure rising, rising, rising so intently, like a balloon about to pop.
She licked her lips, he gulped. Green eyes burned his defenses.
No thoughts, no ideas, no resistance, forever deflated on command.
“It’s time for you to suck, horny boy,” she purred.
What happens between her legs stays in her legs.
I would be lying if I didn’t say I’m feeling a bit deflated myself at the moment. Just a temporary mood drop, I’m sure of it, but it’s there. Inspiration is like a balloon. You slowly fill it but, if you stop for a second or two and aren’t careful enough, the air starts to leak out little by little.
There are a lot of balloons just outside my house at the moment for there’s a birthday party going on. I saw one of them slowly began to fade, I saw a man assume an almost kneeling position to pick it up. A woman stood next to him and, even though there was nothing erotic about the whole scene, my mind thought differently and wandered into Metaphorland. It can be a weird place to be, but at least it’s never boring, deflated or not. The party is going to continue throughout the afternoon. I wonder what will happen and how many balloons will eventually pop.
If this was too weird for you, perhaps tomorrow’s piece will be more to your liking. I hope you’ll look forward to it. See you then.