“Hey, pusha’!”

Winnifred leBrenne turned on her stiletto heels, pointed to herself, and mouthed the word “Me?”. When the greasy man nodded, Winnie shook her blonde curls out of her eyes, shook her head, and walked towards the man. He leaned up against the dirty brick wall and took a drag of his cigarette. She stopped two paces away from him and planted her tiny hands on her hips.

“Pusha’, I’ve got diamond necklace that says you won’t make love to me,” the man said, and he pulled a strand of gaudy jewelry out of his pocket. A couple stones were conspicuously missing. Winnie rolled her eyes.

Faux diamonds, she thought to herself, badly cut glass, what a joke! Even if I was a prostitute, I wouldn’t fall for it.

She twirled a blonde curl around her finger in an illusion of interest as fake as the jewelry. She looked the man up and down, raised a carefully shaped eyebrow, and stared into his shallow eyes. They smiled with overconfidence, so she narrowed her eyes and pushed further, up his optic nerve and into the folds of his brain. There, settled into the crevasses of his mind, she found a thousand secrets his lips would never utter, especially if he was expecting her to release all his pent-up steam. She blinked and pulled her energy back into herself, and smiled. A small part of her was satisfied with the way her cherry-painted lips teased his loins. She knew what inappropriate, disgusting images flowed through his mind.

“Aw buster,” she said, the arsenic on her lips tasting sweet as wine. “I just couldn’t accept that, see. I’ve got a ‘sease. Last man I was with is suing me, all because his pride just done rotted off, see.”

The man’s waxen skin paled a few shades. He slipped the jewelry back into his pocket, tipped his warped bowlers hat, and moved down the street, away from her. Winnifred grinned and watched him go, his legs clenched together so her moved like a penguin. He must have thought that if he did, his pride may fall off too. She tapped her toe on the ground for a moment, watching him, until he disappeared into the crowd. She turned around and tucked her purse inside her long beige coat, letting the click-clack of her heels on the pavement serve as a warning to the next gigolo who tried to pick her up.

Sometimes, telepathic magic was wonderful.


Word: Pusher.  ||  Time: 15 minutes.  ||  Character: Winnifred leBrenne.


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something to think about

"You know, I don't know if you'll understand this or not, but sometimes, even when I'm feeling very low, I'll see some little thing that will somehow renew my faith. Something like that leaf, for instance - clinging to its tree despite wind and storm. You know, that makes me think that courage and tenacity are about the greatest values a man can have. Suddenly my old confidence is back and I know things aren't half as bad as I make them out to be. Suddenly I know that with the strength of his convictions a man can move mountains, and I can proceed with full confidence in the basic goodness of my fellow man. I know that now. I know it." ~ End of Act I in the musical You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

competing for the house cup

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