Do you like Lobster jack!

She hummed and hawed, the beef looked over done, there was no obvious blood flowing, the tell tale drops that fall from the piece as you drag it to your plate, when semi rare. The serving lady waited, proper bitch she thought, who does she think she is. A thickly perfumed lobster was before her on a different tray, she wanted the surf and turf affect. And they spoiled it because there was  no blood flowing from it, the beef. The cutlery rattled another fifteen minutes, as the gathering scrapped their plates, apart from her lady ship, who hardly toyed with it at all, like the lobster jack she said under her breath, loud enough to be

heard by those close to her, i’m not satisfied the tone of voice, why did they drag me out of bed for this, she was an aging diva, but this was no ordinary event; it was a fund raiser for the famine effort, organised by one of her oldest friends, her former agent, he didn’t supply parts anymore, other than tacky over cooked beef. She thought it was a call for work, another final role in her startling career. They used to flash them for me, i could leave them waiting an hour and they would still be waiting, for her, the greatest diva of them all.

There is a tingle of glasses, silence, the auction begins, an air of excitement, ready to bid dear, the quite call of many of the celebrity gatherers, you can even have dinner with Donald trump i hear, he’s supposed to have offered it, for twenty five thousand dollars though. I never knew he was so thoughtful says another. Am i offered ten thousand folks, this is the T-Shirt Bono wore on his last world tour, come on ladies cries the MC for the night, imagine the memories and your stories, imagine it he says. Who owns the T-Shirt dear, didn’t i tell you, you mean he was here!.

The Baby lets the jelly flow from the relief packet, it’s a nutrient filled mixture, will keep her alive another week!. Her mother tries to smile, a TV producer is trying to get a smile from her, the contrast, the mothers joy at the food the child consumes, help. Well, make that a common feeling, connect the two. The producer isn’t cold hearted, he’s trying to max the event to the full, connect emotionally with the future TV audience.

Solomon was listening to the radio in his small apartment, another call for help, 24 million starving, hope they react he thought; the Spirit he encountered was not of this world, meant that God was in the game and not going away either. What does he see through the eyes of children, what voices does he hear, is there an extra response expected from the gifted!, pass the lobster Jack, it’ll pass for now. With reluctance she begins to spoon the shell, the sauce is excellent, makes up for the over cooked beef, there are people starving after all.

 

 

 

Moses Blue

Moses gets the Blues

 

Fifteen, sixteen whatever age, whatever the reason, we plan for it, but seemingly do nothing about it, repeated year after year, while the suicide rates among children soar, and nobody seems to notice, just more calls for volunteers, as if the situation is expected to worsen, as it is, any wisdom out there, it does not appear so. Children more vulnerable to adult vices that ever before, copying what they see, have you ever seen a small one learn, how fast they cotton on, we all have, and what do we all say, that’s a smart child, they are all smart children, they don’t all learn at the same speed. As with wine, some get better as they get older, most in fact, provided they have the right start. There was a time when children were considered a Godsend, a blessing, more love to give, that was long ago. Now we have a list of explanations for the child and the role of the adult and society etc etc, and the rights of children

etc.. and hosts of other things, etc etc, all relating to the rearing and well-being of the child. A child just wants to be esteemed and loved, with a little encouragement they’ll work things out.

Solomon met a lot of big children lately, and the still had to recover from their childhood,

Tight Squeeze

maybe, she twirls, the dress does not look right, the mirror is full length, she stands there, head left head right, head up head down, doesn’t feel right, damn, she marches to the bedroom, a bundle of clothes on the bed, she reaches into the press, what now she sighs, four to choose from, she’s a size eight, wants to be a seven, grabs the navy jump suit, quickly changes, returns to the mirror, half an hour later, she makes up her mind. A pout of the lips, cool she smiles, on her way to an awards ceremony, wants to look her best. Whats the hurry, in traffic, taxi driver watches her reaction in the mirror, hyped up chick or what, she is hopping, can’t this bus go faster, is getting nervous, the delay is killing her.  what’s the rush!.

famine chick, in her small tent, the aid convoy hasn’t arrived yet, was promised a week ago, will it hurry up, her child is cramping with the hunger, the water milk diet not sustaining enough. She doesn’t mind, it’s her child she worries about.

I’d like to announce the winner of the new female singer of the year, and the winner is, she bursts in the door, the audience turns around, the noise she makes would scatter a flock of birds. her day is made, she arrived on the stroke of recognition, the fuss with the make up and stuff worth the wait.

She pulls her hair, ringlets, cutie, she fawns for the audience, opens her mouth the way all the bright teeth people do, pauses. i would like to dedicate my award to the ..

The child is crying, she is fraught with anxiety, she holds the baby, one eye on the door, a miracle she pleads, how can i stop the suffering of my little child. She shakes the baby, talking to the wee one all the time, she’d feed him from her breast, but they are hard and tight, no milk in there, she needs to feed to provide for the young one.

i’d like to thank my agent, and my family for getting me this far, without them i would have got nowhere.  She bursts out crying, the emotions too much, success has come at last.

Without food there was nothing she could do. The dead bundle is cold, she sits on the floor, wailing.

Anyone for canapes!