A dance, a meal, and a kiss

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

I saw another one today. I was driving along a country road and over there on the left, by the well kept farmhouse was another of those rather weird examples of modern art known as the "moonie". Have you ever seen a moonie? No, I am not talking about some earnest and well scrubbed youth in the airport lounge selling flowers for the Korean Messiah, but rather the mushroom shaped and gaily painted depiction of someone's legs and nether regions that are sprouting on lawns all over country like, well like mushrooms.

It was a brilliant moonlit night. The warm weather of the past few weeks had made the nights unbearable for sleeping.
One of those who couldn’t sleep was William(Bill) Clancy. That night he’d gone for a drive down to the coast in his car.

As he topped the crest of a hill, he saw the gleam of the sea ahead. He wasn’t there yet. There was a steep hill to negotiate first.

He carefully started down the hillside. He saw another pair of headlights on the other side of the valley. He judged that the car was heading his way.

“Move it, skank!” Justine moved her hips to the side and shoved Marcy with them. Marcy stumbled and dropped her books and papers she was carrying. She kneeled to pick them up.

“God, she’s such a nerd,” said Linda. “She’s about to cry just because she dropped her nerd shit everywhere!” Tears welled up in the corners of Marcy’s brown eyes and her lips trembled.

I am a model of restraint, I think. You couldn't tell it by looking at me, unless you measure the tensile strength of my corset strings, but you couldn't see that either. In the latest of my temporary jobs I have ended up in yet another machine shop, building yet another machine. With each of these jobs you meet a new group of men - not people, they're exclusively men.

A week and a half later, I was still deeply bothered by Lacey’s revelation about my mind being sealed off. While I had gotten my mind reading somewhat under control, I still hadn’t gotten my emotions under control. And being stuck in this godforsaken tiny house didn’t help me. The old lady refused to let me leave the house. She herself didn’t even leave. Her neighbors brought her everything, or so she said. I never saw anybody enter the house and when I was allowed to walk into the backyard for fresh air, I never saw any neighbors.

A trip of a diplomatic mission to Betelgeuse VII.

It has been brought to my attention more than once that I have a big mouth. I'm sure that you, my readers, have remarked on my talent for fearlessly offering opinion and advice from behind the safety of the printed page. Unlike talking, where my pontifications can be challenged by a loud "Oh yeah, that's what you say!", if someone out there wants to comment they have to take the time to compose their thoughts, put them on paper, find a stamp and mail the thing.

Chatty Kathy

Jonny Steele was “huge,” he was a legend in our neighborhood. He was thirteen like the rest of my friends, but as I said, he was huge; five foot seven, one hundred and fifty-five pounds. Jonny was a lefty at the plate, though I think he wrote righty in school. Anyways, he was at bat, and I was third base coach.