Lucien & Frenchie

As she flattered herself with an unoriginal song he stood patient like a good editor who knows just when a line has run on too long. His head bowing to the future, hind limbs cocked on a hair trigger.

The misleading stance must have appeared a humble, deep-seated curtsy. And from such a high perch, made use only by her, what other gestures could she have seen?
The sun that morning painted greens along the length of her neck, and the conditioned air whispered through the yellows and golds. These maids-in-waiting warned of nothing, just brought in this day as they would have the next.
Singing the last notes of her phrases, wings opened, her head twisted slightly to the doorway and she remembered the young woman who called her by name.

He knew everything after that was superfluous, he took out his red pen.

"We don't need these commas, exclaimation points and conjunctions!" he hissed. "We don't need these cliches and dangling participles! We don't need the redundancy of this feather over that!"

He stripped her story to the bone and left only the dust jacket to thumb through.



I wrote this after hearing that Elise's parrot had been killed by Georgia's cat. No one was there to see it, only Todd had documented some evidence. So I thought a crime report should be created.