The First 6S Mash-Up!

A Random Collaboration by Twenty-One 6S Authors

As I looked across the table at the perfectly manicured hairline (which I'm sure had to be a toupee) on the forehead of the cheap (non-tip giving) blind date who now made me question if I really wanted to enter the roller-coaster-ride of today’s dating scene, I reminded myself that I like frogs, especially the ones that turn into princes when you kiss them (at least I think I would like the prince-frogs better, but I’m not sure, because so far that hasn’t happened, even though I’ve kissed lots of frogs, and some of them croak right after I kiss them, which isn’t real good for my self-esteem), and then, as consolation, I reminded myself that the crema in a good espresso is reason enough to get out of bed every morning. Silenced, no, strangled by feeling insignificant, I thought I had nothing to say until I wrote my first “six,” and someone out there, surely someone of significance, wrote “nice job” and brought me to life (can I help it if people find me irresistible?) – I think this is what I want, because the more I chew this thing the bigger it gets, plus (please stay with me, I know I’m rambling), I baked these totally decadent chocolate chip cookies this morning that were so sinfully delicious I couldn't eat just one, and when I took them to a friend of mine, she swooned when she ate one; yes, she swooned... no joke (it's an unusual response, I know, but when the doctor gave me the sad news, I could have kissed him, and of all the things to happen on my birthday, I never expected the Plutonians to invade Madrid). Anyway, I couldn't believe that Hayley was drinking again (I waited in the dark for her to come home; up close, I was horrified to see that what I’d thought was an extension to the large tiger’s eye pendant she wore was actually a blob of oatmeal on her elegant bosom); she had six months clean - her longest stretch since we were thirteen and slamming screwdrivers out of Gatorade bottles on the swings in the park behind our houses (I love tequila, but when I drink it, I think you hate me, and then I hate you for hating me), yet there I was, sitting in all my glory on the john, when the window blind suddenly rolled up, giving both the landscaper (poor man) and me a start before I dropped to the floor in spasms of laughter, for there really was nothing else to do. I sent myself to you in what I hoped was inspiration, hoping you’d keep me like some little muse behind your ear, a breeze that brought a song reminding you of me – take a big glass of something dark and soothing; go down to the water by yourself and gaze up at the sky; lie out on the water on your back and let yourself be carried down the beach until you don’t know where you are; take the back road home and listen to your favorite music louder than you have in years – some of my best ideas came to me only to please you and keep me somewhere in your mind, amongst (and some shining times in front of) all those things that you had chosen before me; so, now that I am gone, do you imagine those ideas were yours, ponder how you used to take more time just for yourself, and miss the way you used to be, when I was sometimes there beside you, or at least within the sound of your voice? I have strange dreams at night, some fueled by too many strong margaritas at the neighborhood Mexican restaurant, the two of us sitting on the patio sharing a basket of tortilla chips, the hottest salsa they have between us because my lover is obsessed with all things dangerous, hot and spicy, me dipping carefully into the little white cup and eating slowly, sipping that grande with the salted rim every other bite so my tongue and the lining of my esophagus survive to receive the enchilada plate I ordered; the next morning I sit up in bed, too alert for the abuse I inflicted the night before, alone because it is mid-week and he returned to his wife, remembering the dream, the tequila nightmare: the world had changed (governments collapsed, population reduced by world bank-sponsored wars and epidemics started by virus-contaminated public drinking water and natural disasters made worse by research planes and computers adjusting the weather) and I stood alone in that nightmare, a resister who avoided the programming by surrounding myself with the light of love everyday, even when the world had gotten darker and more evil; leaving my bed I walk with a steady gait to the front door and open it, wondering what strange clouds would greet me this morning, and suddenly I am paralyzed, physically, mentally, more with disbelief than fear, as I lived by looking behind me for too long; a man in military greens, my lover, pokes a weapon at me, and I know I am the last to be taken because behind him the landscape is void of color and structure, the acrid air burning my eyes, the nightmare upon me – the world gone (yet you take my hand and promise to lead me to a place beyond my most secret desires: to a place I seek but cannot reach alone, somewhere that's deeper and darker than I can even comprehend, to a place you promise where lies the essence of my sweetest dreams and my worst nightmares; I ask you to take me there, I beg, even though I know I many never find my way back again). The dark and rain are lowering my spirits, bringing me near to tears as the summer ends without the hoped-for harvest, and then, just great... I felt my toes explode in pain as the car rolled over my foot – the chaos made me uncomfortable until I realized the one universal constant: everything is kinetic, in motion, transforming, expanding and contracting; change is the only thing that ever stays the same.


Twenty-One 6S Authors, promptly responding to a request in the 6S Newsletter, submitted one sentence each, written in the first person. The six sentences above are the amazingly coherent result. And now, without further adieu, let’s have a HUGE round of applause for each of the twenty-one authors! (Shaindel Beers, David J. Billings, Diane Brady, caccy46, Maura Campbell, Nancy Coleman, Chris Conroy, Sara Crowley, Hanita, Anita Hunt, Rebecca Jane, Peggy McFarland, T.J. McIntyre, mgirl, Deborah O’Neal, Gina Perry, Angela Pitt, Quin, Adam J. Whitlatch, writeorbust, and Madam Z) Bravo!