J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

Ok ladies... you wanted something "50 Shades," so this one is for you... ____________________ He strode out and took his pace as “Number 4,” his eyes strained from the garish fluorescent lights that illuminated the small room. He had never been in a line-up before, and this was no ordinary line-up. Of the seven men that stood with him, he would be considered average. Average height, average build, average weight. Those that joined him probably ranged from 5’6” to 6’4” in height. Two were blond, one was Asian, and one was African-American. He stood at 6’ even, weighed in at 195 pounds, and was relatively fit, especially in comparison to the man that occupied the space to his right. Nervously, he shuffled his feet as he waited. Each of the men jumped when startled by the booming voice over the loud speaker. Unable to come to terms with how he had ended up in this position, it was all he could do to choke back the anger and tears. “Number 1, step forward,” the voice...

The bell rang to signal last call. He didn’t even have to raise a finger. Almost in reflex, Skipper ran the bell, filled another shot glass to the brim with Jameson, and placed it on the bar. Rock reached forward, showing none of the drunken effects the whisky had imparted on him, and grasped the glass. Pausing for a moment before lifting the whisky to his lips, Rock said the same prayer he repeated before every drink, and then swallowed it down in one gulp with his eyes closed. “Damn it,” he whispered aloud as he opened them. “Still here.” “Hey Rock, you ok?” Skipper asked. The young, but keenly observant bartender, had sensed that “Rock,” Rockford by his given name, seemed more melancholy than usual. “I’m fine, Skip, It’s just been a long week.” “Well, in an event,” Skipper began. "You about polished off an entire bottle of Jameson by yourself. You know the rules.” With a reluctant sigh, Rock reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew his keys, and tossed the...

Something on the softer side this time... ~ The wind whispered like a forgotten friend, Ripples in the water escaped to dance, And the sun bowed in the glow of humility. Bathed in the day's lullaby, Rocks glisten with the sea's kiss, And the shore begs for its tidal embrace. Rays fade beyond the horizon, Carrying the evening warmth away, And the chill grasps in desperation. A mind wanders to places unseen, Thoughts serene, memories imagined, And the night takes hold at last. Footsteps drift away slowly, Lost along uncertain paths, And the stones ahead stretch away. A soul troubled follows blindly, Senses calling from mystery, And the longing awakens. A smile emerges reluctantly. Glimmering hope reaches out, And the future beckons invitingly. © J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.  

“Dude, wake up,” Dom said as he poked Cameron with a plastic Ikea shoe horn they had picked up solely and specifically because it was crafted to look like a snake. “Piss off.” “Wake up!” Dom poked Cam again. “I swear to God if you touch me with that thing one more time I am going to beat you to death with it.” “Dude, it’s a plastic shoe horn.” “Then it will be a slow and painful death. Now go away!” Cameron rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head. Dominic shook his head and went to the kitchen for some coffee. Cam tossed and turned for a few more minutes, but the damage was done. Dom’s interruption hand rendered futile any thought Cam had of squeezing out a few more minutes of sleep. Wearily, he rose, yawned, and walked into the kitchen to join his brother. “Morning, sunshine,” Dominic said derisively. Cameron glared at him as he poured himself some coffee. “What’s the matter? Long night?” “Fuck you, Dom.” Dominic laughed. He knew what his br...

[Editor’s Note: The part of, well, you, the reader, will be played by parenthetical quotations in today’s story.] (“What the hell are you talking about?”) Just go with it. Shush.     (“Ok….”) Are you ready now? Good. The answer is applesauce. (“What?”) The answer is “applesauce.” (“You took an Ambien by accident this morning, didn’t you?”) No, no I did not. I was simply thinking. Ok, not so much thinking as I have had too much coffee and I think caffeine is systematically replacing multiple cells within my body and I can’t focus and oh look Grumpy Cat said something sardonically witty and… applesauce. (“You’ve lost your mind.”) This, I know. Frankly I lost that a long time ago. That, multiple pairs of sunglasses, my library card, the little hook thingy for my Bluetooth headset that goes behind your ear, and more pens than I can remember. Actually, I like those gel grip pens, and I don’t think I lose them so much as someone keeps stealin...