Random Scribbles · writing

Still Not Yet?

TBP



Dug in,
Crouching in the trenches;
“Not yet,” the Lieutenant told us,
“Wait for them to get really close.”

##

“Do you have that new book by that wonderful new author?” I asked.
“Not yet,” the shop assistant said, “they sold out the first run in less than an hour. We all have to wait.”

##

“Are we there yet?”

##

“Mom, Dad; this is my new boyfriend, The Abominable Snowman. I call him Yeti, not Yet, but Yeti. He doesn’t like it when people call him Yet… too informal.”

##

“Jimmy, have you finished your homework?”

##

“I’m famished. Is dinner ready?”

##

Somewhere in this house, there’s a plate that holds my past.
Irene says that if we put it in the dishwasher we can have a new life.
Maybe a better life.
I like my life just fine…
When she tries to clear the dishes, I ask her to wait a while.
“Not yet.” I plead.

##

I don’t have a job.
Denise is the breadwinner of this family.
She calls me a freeloader.
She says I’m irresponsible.
She wants me to pawn my guitar and get a job.
“Not yet.” I tell her.

##

I wiped the sweat from my brow and hold the cutters close to the wires. My heartbeat is a Taiko rhythm inside my chest.
Blue or red? I have a 50/50 chance.
Murphy says that when you have a 50/50 chance you’ll choose wrong 90% of the time.
“We’re running out of time. Have you disarmed it?” Murphy asked.
“Not yet Murph; and I blame you.”

##

I peered into the shop and saw them in there. They weren’t doing anything important so I tapped on the glass.
The woman with the big hair looked up at me from her desk.
I pointed to my watch, “Are you open?” I ask through the locked door, with the “CLOSED” sign hanging inside.
“Not yet,” she said and turned back to her colleagues to tell another story.

##

I spied the pile of oily rags piled in the closet.
“I’m amazed this place hasn’t burned down already.”


“Aren’t you done with this prompt, TN?”

“Not yet!”