Horse Smarts

The decomposing rancid odor of death suddenly punched our nostrils while heading up the overgrown logging road. If I screamed, no one would hear me while alone in the bottom of the desolate canyon. Somewhere concealed in the shadows, branches cracked, and a hasty spin had us headed back down in a controlled trot. I kept glancing back to ensure we didn't need to sprint.

Wanderlust

W A T E R

Survival hinged on those five simple letters inked with black magic marker, in bold block print, on a shard of cardboard torn from a beer box . Recycled twist ties from dumpster diving behind a forgotten bakery were looped through the top of the advertisement, attaching it to the back of his backpack. West Texas gusty winds fanned the sign like mud flaps on semi trucks as the thirsty man trudged forward along the dusty shoulder of Interstate 10.

Hokas & Hornets

Holy smokes, look at those things!  They look like Frankenstein boots with an athletic flair!  Who in their right mind would buy such an absurd looking tennis shoe?

Well...I did.

Moustache Unplugged #27

hehehe...undetected, I seize the opportunity to work on my letter.....

Dear Uptight Trail Runner,

You took an absolutely magical moment and, with your sourpuss attitude, wrecked it. Fortunately, your nonsense is not contagious as I still embrace the beauty, grace and artistry of the moment.

Everybody Needs One

Alone, crouched down on a rotten landscape timber behind an abandoned strip mall, he tips up his 24 ounce can of Hurricane High Gravity malt liquor and pulls another hearty swallow. It's quickly emptying as he stares off into the distance. Sloppy graffiti, dumped furniture and rubbish strewn about the area are invisible to him as tears well up on his lower eyelids while lost deep in thought.

Surprise Endings

Knuckles rapping with purpose on the old wooden door sounded miles away in his hazy stupor.  Persistent pounding on the peeling paint invaded his fog-like trance stemming from a 3 day meth binge. He secretly hoped someone else strung out in the living room would address the piercing racket, but no one flinched from their catatonic states. Haggardly, he stood and rubbed his bloodshot eyes, scratched skin so itchy that it felt like ants were crawling all over him and yanked up his baggy pants that used to fit. Greasy hair was pasted to his forehead as he staggered towards the front door.

Moustache Unplugged #26

hehehe...undetected I take the opportunity to work on my letter...

Dear Vail Resorts,

Your huge, land grabbing, resort hoarding, guest focused conglomerate really disappointed me last fall. Having knowledge of some of your massive holdings, I know that you know better...and you failed miserably.