Exasperation

by

“Have you finished reading the—?

“Almost. You want the—?”

“Already read them. I’m going upstairs. Would you like—?”

“Only if you’re getting one.”

“Wanna do something?”

“I am doing something.”

“I mean something else?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, think about it while you’re getting the coffee.”

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“No, I want to read.”

“Paper’s not going anywhere.”

“You always do this when I’m reading.”

“You love that newspaper more than you love me.”

“The paper would’ve gotten the coffee by now.”

“So, wanna do something?”

“Yeah, roll up the paper and give you a spanking.”

“Well, finally!”


© 2017 Rose B. Thorny. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

About the Author Rose Thorny

One hesitates to use the word “coincidence” when considering the fact that “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” ‘The Thing from Another World,” and Rose, were all unleashed upon an unsuspecting public in 1951.

Rose recalls her first literary effort in public school, a rambling mini-tome, with commendable illustrations, about a rabbit named, “Puff.” Whilst the salient facts of said bunny chronicles are now lost to posterity, the tangential nature of both her thought process and premiere literary offering was prescient of all her subsequent works, eventually leading to a sizeable collection of prose filed, in archaeological-dig fashion, under two simple, but eminently appropriate, headings “Unfinished,” and “Finished, But Who Cares?”

Even Rose finds herself stopping part way through her pedantic, subclause-ridden sentences to ask, “What was I saying?”

Ultimately, due to her propensity to discard absolutely nothing because “it might come in handy some day,” it became necessary for her husband to construct, with his own hands, a Rose-designed house large enough to accommodate her outstanding monument to the North American pulp and paper industry, himself, enough books, videos, DVDs, CDs, and vinyl LPs to fill a small-town library, plus a menagerie that has varied from a single cat to eight cats and four dogs, the current number being four and three respectively.

Upon discovering ERWA, and the magical people therein, through a chain of events best left to the imagination of those who care to ponder such things, true to her basic nature, she leaped into the fray by “flashing,” where, despite the length of this bio, she finally absorbed the message, “Get to the point,” without taking it personally and stomping out in a huff.

For now, Rose has decided to operate under the nom de plume, Rose B. Thorny, noting that the “T” is often silent and implying that the word “ouch” does not necessarily signify a negative sensation.

When not staring glassy-eyed at her monitor, myopic and bespectacled Rose stares glassy-eyed at the television, preferring to watch classic movies of any genre, fantasy, sci-fi, and murder-and-mayhem action/adventure flicks, and a variety of commercial TV programming provided it does not involve the adjective “reality.” Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Lawrence Block, Ed McBain, John Sanford, J. K. Rowling, and Tanya Huff top her mainstream must-read list. Warning Do not get Rose started on any incarnation of Star Trek, particularly TNG.

Rose, who hopes this literary effort is not the longest she will ever submit for your reading pleasure, is now off to analyze to death, as she is wont to do with just so many things, the sudden and rather disturbing tendency to refer to herself in the third person, and concludes this epistolary bio with her oft-heard query, “Is it just me, or is it hot in here?”

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