Private (a short story)

He had been wondering why the people in the street looked at him funny, 

nudged each other and sniggered softly.

It all became clear very swiftly when he got to work. 

Especially when a colleague could no longer contain himself, 

burst out laughing and asked him: 

'Why are you wearing a pair of women's knickers on your head!?'

Somewhat embarrassed he touched his head with his left hand 

as his right hand was still holding the entrance card to the company building.

There was indeed a piece of cloth on his head. 

Which he grabbed slowly, trying to regain his composure. 

His mind raced and he invented a bet: 

'She will do the washing up for a week 

if I dared go to work wearing her underpants on my head.'

Perhaps he should have told the truth but some stories are better kept private.

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Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

Have we become more stupid?

The other day I shared this picture on Facebook:

All over the world you can find obvious warning signs.

But for some reason you find the most in America:

I fear for humanity if these signs were put up

after several people actually did what the signs warn for.

I have been to that country on occasions and wondered why lighters had a sticker: 'Warning: contains flammable liquid!' (a smoker should hope so), why a fire hydrant had a sign 'This is a fire hydrant' (in case a fireman tries to hook the hose unto a parking meter or a lamp post) and a sign at a railroad crossing: 'Wait for the train to pass before you cross' (because you have to clean up the mess yourself when you drive your car across at the height of train carriage 23c). 

Have we really become so stupid that we need to be told the obvious?

Apparently. Because signs like the above would not be needed if people were clever enough to take of their shirt before they iron it.

Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon

Kiss me! (a short story)

In his head he had a myriad of images from his past. She was on at least half of them. 

Without her, his life would have been different. Easier probably, less complicated. 

But as a result, less beautiful as well.

It wasn't as if he was obsessed, he just thought of her excessively. 

Like someone with bowel problems needs to use the bathroom a lot; 

not because they want to, but because they have to.

Not that thinking about her was a problem, it wasn't. 

He only lost his job due to thinking about her once. 

Or was is twice?

Sometimes he even saw her in real life. Or thought he saw her. 

She hadn't changed much. She still had those deliciously wide hips, 

that cute, slightly oversized turned-up nose 

and that mouth that said but one thing: 

kiss me!

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Want to read (more of) my short stories? My author page: Terrence Weijnschenk at Amazon