This week’s words: Strange Temerity (reckless boldness; rashness.) Luxury Know Suitcase Frequent Jettison (to cast (goods) overboard in order to lighten a vessel or aircraft or to improve its stability in an emergency. to throw off (something) as an obstacle or burden; discard. Cards. to discard (an unwanted card or cards).) Famish Junction Kinesthesia (the sensation of movement or strain in muscles, tendons, and joints;muscle sense.) Hold Stale
Joan was a strange girl. Stranger if you allowed her to speak for she had the temerity to lash out at you in either the most amorous of ways or the most violent of ways.
One minute she could have you on the floor smothering you with kisses and the next be beating you to a pulp with her bare fists.
It all depended on how she felt about you at the time and wether or not she had taken her hormone tablet that morning.
Joan wasn’t one for luxury in any shape or form. She wasn’t what you’d call a luxurious looking woman and the few people brave enough to know her could attest to her obvious lack of any thing luxurious in her days. She spent most of her days living out of an old globate suitcase she had found on the street one day.
Suitcase Sally had made the mistake of turning her back a second on a day when Joan had not taken her tablet and before she knew it Joan had taken the suitcase and three of Sally’s teeth with her.
So Joan was a frequent visitor to the High street carrying her suitcase from which from time to time she jettisoned anything that no longer held any interest to her.
It had long been held that life had jettisoned Joan as well and on the day it happened had jettisoned most of her brains as well.
Mostly though Joan was a simple soul going about her day trying to survive on the street the same as the next homeless person. She had a catch cry, as she’d stand on the junction around lunchtime: “Spare a penny for a famished old lady?” Of course she made it hard not to give as she’d get right in your face and leave you with very little option but to fork over some cash.
Joan’s knowledge of kinaesthesia was an obvious advantage to her. Added to that was the twitch she developed when she stood on your toes staring you in the eye such that the kinaesthetic result on the victim was to stand still, place their hand in their pocket and retrieve what they could and often more.
I think that most days Joan ate very well. She would be seen holding court outside the Bear Baiters Bar and Grill, regaling all and any who stopped with stories old and new about her days as a gold prospector, at least this week it was as a gold prospector, last week it was working on an oil rig in the Tasman Sea.
After lunch she’d take a handful of stale bread down to the pond and feed the birds that would clamour to get a morsel of what she threw to them.
She was a strange woman was Joan, kinaesthetically challenged but a person who never allowed her jettisoned life to slow her down.