Semi-Daily Scribbles

There was a charge in the air. Slate gray clouds hung low over Bridgeview like mutated steel wool. The air felt stiff and bristly. June and Billy had just pulled through the chicken joint to place their order, when sharp pings and meaty thuds slapped against the roof of the Jeep. The young couple knew their spontaneous decision to elope would make both sets of parents want to kill them. This seemed the better option when June and Billy saw glowing coals the size of Volkswagens come hurtling out of a jagged hole in the sky. Billy’s last words, spoken to a menu board, were "…and don't forget the honey-mustard sauce." June knew in a split second that that would have to serve as her I Do.