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May 21, 2009

Bad Lucy's Depression Blues

Writing about web page Prompt response


LUCY was a woman of few words.  Most of them were yes.

Credit card in hand, she was mistress of the mall.

Yes to new shoes, yes to blue sky holidays, yes to silver slivers for her wrist.

Yes said Lucy, yes, yes, yes.

Until a big fat NO appeared in her sunny, yessy sky.

NO glowered down on her after Black Monday, Terrible Tuesday, Woeful Wednesday and Thundering Thursday.

By Friday the Footsie had fallen and was hovering over her head.

On Saturday she'd be lowered into a lead-lined coffin of toxic debt.

In walked Steady Steve to save the day.

He spoke fewer words than Lucy.  His best loved word was NO.

NO more silly shoes with heels half a mile high, no more party frocks with petals like petunias.

NO to fizzy pink drinks from long, crystal flues.  No twinkling lights on her fingers, neck and ears.

No to clouds of scent that smelt like midnight in July.

No, Lucy, no, no, no, Steve said.

But Lucy was a stubborn lass and wanted her own way.

She snipped her heels, trimmed her frocks and took to two wheels to wobble around town.

She wove daisies through her hair, bought a dark brown chicken and ate its eggs.  Grew strawberries, lay on hay.

Orgasmic became organic.

And when steady Steve said, I'll have you now Lucy, you are a girl good enough for me.

She delved into her home-made handbag and pulled out her new-found word in reply.

No steady Steve.  No! No! No! Goodbye.

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