I didn't tell a lie!

Okay, so, this is actually ridiculously late given that I said I'd update 'tomorrow' and when 'tomorrow' came, I... well, let's just say that for me tomorrow never came. Which is actually kind of true, since tomorrow never does actually arrive. Um. Yes, I realize I'm trying to justify my laziness. Oh! A good excuse for not having posted when I said I was going to post: I sprained my ankle! Yes, this doesn't stop me from typing, but it does put me in horribly debilitating pain! Or, y'know, enough pain that I have to hobble about and whine piteously to all and sundry who will listen. And offer chocolate. (Which actually happened! I got chocolate and flowers! 'Twas the awesomest of the awesome.)

Anywho, how, what and where, the above picture is in honor of (the now belated) Valentine's Day. Here's hoping everyone had one in some way filled with love! Mine was filled with tests. Two of them. Yeah.

So here is the 1st of the McSweeney Prompts:

Prompt: Write a scene showing a man and a woman arguing over the man's friendship with a former girlfriend. Do not mention the girlfriend, the man, the woman, or the argument.

Table decided it disliked being used as a murder site. Beforehand it didn't quite have an opinion one way or another, but recent experience with spurting blood streaking its veneer and tickling down its legs, coagulating around its feet, decided it. Kinesthetic sense was the only one table had, after all - no eyes no sight, no ears no hearing - and it liked being stroked down with warm cleaning cloths more than it enjoyed the slam of bodies on top of it.

You've got it made, photograph-frame grumbled. Look at my glass covering. It got cracked. Do you know how annoying it is to look at this place through fractured eyes? I keep on seeing multiples of everything, which is not pretty. At all. I mean, you'd think the neighbours would have smelled something by now and gotten this place cleaned up.

Photograph decided not to add to the conversation. It was hard to talk while in pieces; and the fragments of its image that had been smiles had blown out the window days ago. The scraps that were left anchored themselves in clotted blood. A photographic pair of linked hands had long since disappeared.