picking strawberries

12 Mar

I’m reaching into the STRAWBERRIES box. I’m digging down deep for the odd little scraps of paper. I’ve got two… okay, that made me smile in a different way than I expected. Because they’re notes I might actually use myself someday. But I know there’s stuff dumb enough to share in there. Try again. Ah, here’s an old spiral notebook missing its cover; most of the few pages that remain long ago had their least bad lines surgically removed. Yes! We have a simile:

It had a hole in its side, like a black olive pitted wrong.

Poor it, whatever it was. We also have a freestanding bit of dialogue:

“That’s exactly the way I feel about honey mustard!”

And an exclamation point, no less. Because there’s nothing more exciting than honey mustard. People, this stuff is literary gold. Better than that: it’s literary honey mustard!

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