Wednesday March 19th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the impersonator.

Work this evening was fine, other than being problematic in the sense that we're leaving first thing tomorrow morning and I didn't get the chance to pack before my shift. Oh well, that stuff is mostly taken care of now, with just a few last minute things to toss in our bags before we go.

I'm scheduling a post for tomorrow night and then after that I'll hope for internet access and time to write. We'll see how it goes.

Hey, I might even get caught up on comments again...


A stutter here,
Some makeup there;
A change of clothes
And hey, who knows?
They might be fooled.

I hate to go,
I feel so low.
Perhaps, my dear,
I'll reappear
Once tempers cool.


Greg said...

I'm sure that Kat thinks your packing hasn't changed from when you have lots of time to do it ;-) Hopefully it all went well and you arrived safe and sound!
Heh, great little poem that brought a smile to my face! I rather like the last line, which suddenly casts the whole poem in a radically different light.

The impersonator
The man in the brown leather jacket leaned in and smiled, and Jordan smiled back. He had said that he was his Uncle Dave, and he certainly looked, sounded, and even smelled like him -- Jordan hated the lingering smell of tobacco mixed with shaving foam -- but there was something just subtly off.
"The keys, kid?" Uncle Dave held his hand out, four fingers and a thumb wiggling every so slightly in the universal "gimme" gesture. "It's my car, after all."
And it was. It was absolutely Uncle Dave's car, and it was, Jordan knew, the only way to find the money that Uncle Dave had stolen and buried; what he still didn't know was how the car was the clue to it all.
"I haven't got all day, li'l man." Uncle Dave had called him that since he was four. Jordan looked at the outstretched hand again, and finally his memory woke up and handed him the reason why he was feeling bugged. Uncle Dave had six digits on his left hand, not five. Whoever was stood in front of him was a very clever impersonator, but not quite clever enough.
"They're in the kitchen," said Jordan, with a faint smile.

Marc said...

Greg - fair point. But it would have been nice to do my last chance packing without having to work first :P

Ah, your impersonator went to great lengths to fool his target... just not quite great enough. Now you've left me curious as to what happens next!