A Sunday morning quickie before I dash off to work, in response to the Regrets prompt at Writingthe200.

Any regrets about my decision to join the circus as a poop shoveler dissipated at the sight of the fire breathing lady.

Oh, the light that radiated from her flaming lips. Oh, the dreams swirling round her gyrating hips.

She promised a show and her spectacle didn’t disappoint. By the end of her act there wasn’t an unedged seat in the joint.

The line for autographs circled the tent. Cost of admission was agreed to be money well spent.

I scooped up as the domesticateds left the stage, herded back to the bread stocked in each separate cage.

She laughed deep from her throat as she headed for the dressing room to remove snug-fitting sequins and wig and fetch her magic broom.

The house lights went dim and we pulled up the stakes. As we headed for the next town I had fresh dirt to rake.

But first came a note from the lady herself. I was to meet her at midnight so I busied cleaning myself.

Expecting romance I arrived with arms full of flowers to a room full of others enamored by her powers.

My fantasies doused, I took my assignment file, worked on another press release pile.

Jackass Alley

In response to the Deserted prompt at WritingThe200

A century after their ancestors were deserted here on an ill-fated mining expedition, the wild asses of Death Valley Junction roam with slow deliberation in the general direction of whatever is tickling the pack leader’s fancy.

Locals pay them about as much mind as city folk do panhandlers. They’re alright…as long as they ain’t shittin’ all over your property and scavenging after food momentarily left unattended.

Tourists, on the other hand, with their out of state plates, are likely to slam on the brakes, veer off the paved road into a cloud of dust as they hotly pursue a small herd like they were the first ones with the bright idea of snagging an up close photo of a donkey being hand fed from a bag of Cheetos while a straw hat is rested on its head.

The wild burros are used to this, and welcome the opportunity to partake in snack foods, digestible clothing, road maps and whatever other roughage they can wrangle before the visitors realize their folly and beat a hasty retreat.

On opposite ends of jackass alley, gas station mini-marts run brisk business selling replacement items and first aid supplies to folks just passing by.