Brinkinfield

I Need New Glasses, Frying Pan and Kitchen Bin

While at the time of buying the last frying pan, I swore to myself that I would maintain and clean after every use, until pristine… I did not. Now, that sad, browned pan with a wobbly handle, sits on the hob praying for disposal.

Do Not Disturb

Who the fuck is that knocking on my door?
It’s Sunday morning.
I am in bed.
My head hurts.
And now this fool has pressed the door bell,
releasing a bright and happy fairground tune inside.

I listen.
I am still.
Gone away, yet?

81 Words Flash Fiction Anthology

81 Words Flash Fiction Anthology
1,000 Stories by 1,000 Authors – A World Record Breaking Book
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Why I’m Searching

I’ve been searching
Through a black and pink coloured cave
Trying to see my way ahead
Trying hard to be brave

But now I’ve reached some
Big old dusty dead end
and I realised way too late
Just how to be good friends

The New, New Normal.

“In case its passed anyone by,” Professor of Psychology Daniel Moccasin said, as he tapped the knuckles of his left hand against the wall-mounted presentation screen-still displayed in front of the small class, “things have changed. And by this, I mean things have changed again. We now face a new, new normal. One that no one could have predicted, not even if they’d had a crystal ball could they have done so, no…” He paused and looked around at the clueless expressions tied to the front of each student’s face. A hand went up, emerging confidently from the back row of the classroom. “Yes, Butterley, isn’t it? Stand up, what have you got to say for yourself?”

Dead Giveaway

“Alright, Oliver I am totally fed-up with this conversation.” Charlotte said, her smouldering eyes staring out one thousand yards across the vast void that was their marbled dining hall. Beyond the red Jarrah hardwood dinner table and chairs, the mirror-panelled wall reflected back her expression into Oliver’s view. He felt a twinge of sorrow for her, which he kept to himself.
“Great! I’m relieved, its felt like an intensive interrogation for over the last twenty minutes.”

Should Men be Forced to Shave Their Legs?

The first man to shave his legs out of habit,
Sits before me in a deckchair on the seafront promenade,
Lifting at the hem of his sky-blue linen trousers,
Aiming an unnecessarily surreptitious wink my way.

Old now, greyed and wrinkled, the stare of a rabbit,
He explains how this came to be.
“It was all a misunderstanding, see,
Entirely on my part, naturally.
For when ‘the shortages’ kicked-in and trousers went to shorts,
I’d thought,
We must all now shave our legs,
Same as the wimmin do.”

I’m Sorry About the Bracelet Gift

Do I wear the bracelet?
I avoided answering your question.
Easier, via text, after enough time has elapsed
The truth is: the volcanic beaded bracelet
Pinches the hairs on my skin

It doesn’t actually remove the hairs
Therefore, it returns to the same positions frequently
and pinches the hairs, all over again.

CoMiNG SooN: aN iNterView wiTh aN arTisT

Shortly re-tune-in and come back soon, not waste too much time to find out more, about this magnificence from a lowly background, in this openly revealing, world premiere interview especially rearranged for orchestra by Brinkinfield. What follows in the form of an excerpt, is a teaser trailer type of thing.

Brinkinfield: We’ve worked together for nearly over five years now, you’ve contributed all the artwork for all my writing since then apart from once, when we fell out. Over all that duration of time, I don’t believe that I’ve ever read an actual interview with you.
Can you explain to your fans, where exactly, your inspiration origins?

pedrov_dog: Well, first-off, hello to everyone, it’s a pleasure to be here within such palatial surroundings. And secondly-off, that’s a very good question.

Natural Blue

1.
If you take a jolly good look around – and I mean a rootin’-tootin’ jolly good look around, there aren’t many women in the world with naturally blue hair. Very, very, few, as evidenced by the facts. Hair scientists say this rare phenomena occurs due to a specific genetic defect caught unawares, buried deep, about halfway down within the spiral structure of our DNA.

Conversely, as a committed appreciator, I say naturally blue hair is the eighth wonder of the world, a biological miracle, invoking a sense of much awesomeness. No less, I say, than a heavenly blessing from God’s can’t-leave-it-alone tinkering fingers. Still, to this very day, I can recall in reasonable-to-fair detail, the circumstances as a young teen, when I saw my very first one.