PopRelics

caretaker, originally uploaded by The Searcher.

This was the eighth can. The mister would be asleep soon. Every night, it was the same, nearly. The mister would arrive, curse at his day left behind him, and retreat to the bathroom for a time of noise and stink. He would emerge with a grunt, and fall into his chair. Perseus would have his first beer waiting for him, then when ordered, put the mister's food into the humming box and make it hot for him. He despised the humming box; it always stung him when he pulled out the food. But it was what he was trained to do.

The mister would grunt and yell at the box of light for the rest of his time at night. Every so often he'd command for another beer. Sometimes he would throw the empty at Perseus, and make him cry out. But mostly the mister was kind enough. Perseus was fed well and sometimes got a scratch behind the neck or under his chin.

His curses would quiet to a mumble, and the mister would soon pass out. He would often sleep with the lit stick in his hand, dangerously burning down to his fingers. Perseus knew to take away the beer then, and take the lit stick and put it down the sink. It was one of the first things he was trained to do. He was not supposed to eat the mister's food, or drink his drink. But sometimes, once the mister was out, he would breath in the rest of the lit stick.

It was a moment to himself, after he silenced the box of light and pulled the blanket over the mister.

Perseus would sit in the darkness, draw from the lit stick deeply, and think of his family.

# posted by Derek Chatwood @ 12:41 PM

THE. george & dragon, originally uploaded by The Searcher.

The is the "bar" in "bar-art". The place I've drawn virtually every artwork displayed here in the last two years.This is my art studio.

So you can imagine my glee when I was contracted to draw the George for.

wait for it.

a beer coaster.

It's like, fill circle. Full circled circled. and then circled again. Since I drew it. AT the george. It is. in every way. Bar Art.

yes. I spilled beer on it.

# posted by Derek Chatwood @ 1:28 PM

emma., originally uploaded by The Searcher.

You're spelling a letter? You can't spell a letter. It's a letter!

The boy was clearly upset. The girl told him that she could, it was allowed. But the boy was very confused. In all the time he'd spent playing Scrabble(tm), he had never once seen such a thing. Spelling a letter. But the girl promised him it was allowed, that spellings of letters were in the Official Scrabble(tm) Dictionary. Of course she may as well have said they were transcribed on the Official Lunar Scrabble(tm) Plaque, for how likely they were to peruse either things. The quiet, drafty pub was enjoyable to sit in and play a game. But it was worlds away from conducting a Scrabble(tm) Challenge(tm).

The boy sat, stunned. He could not see why the girl would tactic in this way. He really liked her, and he thought she liked him. But she was clearly winning already. One hundred points or more. The boy didn't understand why she would resort to this, with that score. Then she explained. She did not want to beat him, she only wanted to finish the game. So they could go home.

The boy met her gaze when she spoke the last, then followed her eyes down to the board. Her last turns were EMBRACE, CARESS, SENSUAL, and KISSED.

At last, the boy understood. he had been looking at all the wrong words.

# posted by Derek Chatwood @ 4:23 PM