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treading water with walt whitman

October 3, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

The man I met today was a professor. He professed a lot of things but the parts that resonated were the bits and pieces about his family, existing and past. Ten years ago the family he was born into died and he felt (and still feels) like an orphan. His existing family unit continues to grow because that’s all he has…”the original set of kids have grown…let’s adopt some more…” kinda thing. It’s not common on a first meeting to […]

Categories: stories, sugar • Tags: creative writing, dating, Hosiery, short story, sugar baby, sugar daddy

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eat in

August 25, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

Later, after living here almost a year, I learned that the cranky old man who had welcomed me into the neighborhood was right: those messy Chinese were taking over Alameda. When I first met him he looked like he had just beaten up two Chinese men in the Safeway parking lot, for something simple like pulling out of their parking spaces too slowly. Yes. He had probably gotten out of his car to beat up TWO Chinese men in TWO […]

Categories: stories • Tags: Alameda, Chinese, Chinese food, creative writing, racism, short story, spells, to go

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worth describing

July 14, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

The sky was swollen with thick Farrow and Ball Down Pipe clouds. The sky was so packed with them they couldn’t even move. The only thing capable of drifting was my gaze. I looked up towards the top of the hill to size up the hike. It was anything but smooth. There was no sunlight. The tread on my shoes was already worn out from the numerous hikes that came before. The only pleasure I could find in getting up […]

Categories: slumber • Tags: castle, Dream, Farrow and Ball, flood, friends, short story

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verbena

July 14, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

I meet a lot of people. It’s what I do as part of my living. All day, every day, I have a bunch of “first dates” with people to see if we’re on the same wavelength and would be a proper fit for one another. Half the time we are. Half of that time we hug and kiss before our two hours are up. This was one of those times. As I approached her house I saw her watering the […]

Categories: stories • Tags: blindness, cerebral palsy, garden, inspiration, short story

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pick up your britches

July 14, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

“The reason you’re here is because my son is going through a phase where he doesn’t know how to express his anger…well, he DOES know how to express his anger, he’s just ruining the house doing it.” She gave me a guided walking tour of all the holes in the walls and what caused them. “He was asked to brush his teeth.” “We bought him shoes with velcro straps.” “His knees were dry.” After the hole tour we reviewed her […]

Categories: stories • Tags: autism, britches, puberty, short story

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maurice

July 14, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

“God, Maurice, don’t you ever shut up? She’s obviously trying to work and you keep on yacking.” Neither of us could see her but we heard her loud and clear. Their relationship reminded me of my parents: constant bickering with only one doing the actual bickering. It didn’t matter where she was in the house — she was listening to every word being exchanged, and my dad was the same way. You’d think you’d be having a private conversation and […]

Categories: stories • Tags: seismic retrofitting, senior citizens, short story

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chocolate whoopie pies with strawberry buttercream

June 5, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

I knew she existed; everyone has a mother at some point. I didn’t know what she looked like or even her name. I guess that’s the type of stuff only close friends know. Several empty seats were at the table where all the good looking people were sitting. I was dressed well enough to blend in; maybe they wouldn’t say anything. I pulled out a chair, sat myself down, and became part of the crowd. Megan sat near me, moaning […]

Categories: stories • Tags: cookies, equality, gay marriage, lesbians, love, marriage, short story, whoopie pie

1

summer stutter

May 25, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

Last night I was in their kitchen, waiting for my phone to charge so I could go home and feel safe during the drive. I get shifty every time I leave their place and take too long to get settled in my car. They live in one of those neighborhood’s that’s not your own, so you don’t trust it. I was hungry and polite, so I said “yes” when I was offered pizza but took the smallest (square) slice in […]

Categories: stories • Tags: not stammer, Oakland, selfie, short story, stutter

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dream

March 29, 2014 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

It was a very typical “I’m the neighborhood” work day and I dropped in. “Just come on in,” he texted. The door was open. I did. There was no one; the house was silent. Even the four-legged doorbell was missing. A gorgeous day called for outside exploration. This was a different house. It was my uncle’s in Pico Rivera; the house we lived in for a year while they made regrettable life changes in Las Vegas. It had a front […]

Categories: slumber, stories • Tags: boner, caramel, creative writing, dreams, short story

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glendale

September 18, 2013 by whatwhippedcreamismadeof

“I feel sooooooooo bad. I really feel horrible. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Can I take you out to dinner or something? Please. Let me take you out to dinner.” I was kneeling on his floor with a bloody nose, swollen lips, and a couple of cute cuts. (They were cute -small and very happy to be alive and bleeding.) “I don’t even have anything here. Let me see if the neighbors are home […]

Categories: Uncategorized • Tags: bloody nose, Glendale, how to ask someone out on a date, short story

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