| this is oh so blue A MAGAZINE OF FICTION, POETRY & MORE! |
| black |
| this is black shadow |
| ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM |
| ISSUE #11 $O.OO |
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| June 2004 |
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| ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM |
| ***BIO*** Bill King says he's wanted to be a writer as long as he can remember, but he got side-tracked when he joined the Navy in 1972 on the spur of the moment. They tried to give him a clerical job but he wouldn't have it. Instead he worked at the air terminal at the Naval Station in Rota, Spain, towing and fueling jet airplanes while on duty and running wild in Spain, Morocco, London, and Greece the rest of the time. He didn't get much writing done at the time, but now he's making up for it with gusto. He doesn't like to give specifics about his past escapades, preferring to let his stories speak for themselves with some blurring between reality and fiction. Bill lives in Jacksonville, FL with his wife, son, and toy robot. **LINK** to Bill King's website: http://hometown.aol.com/billectric/myhomepage/photo.html |
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| © 2004 zygoteinmycoffee Ink. |
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| Developing the World for Profit |
| by Bill King |
| Here's a boy named Khris who graduated from high school and went to college to be a civil engineer. He dreamed of stopping pollution. He got in with some big company which was developing islands into tourist attractions. It didn't matter where the islands were, the US, or near Jamaica, or some other resort area. When he wrote to his parents, it was always in some wacky code or poems, and they are just now trying to understand what he was trying to say. He begins like this: Some people from one island receive rocks, cannonballs, dirt so bright. Their airplane designed by you goes whizzing over your prepared waves. Remember This dream I swim behind the battling backs of our heads. You blow an especially solid foundation for past materials laid, now stay; the future portfolio could be a reason for anyone. Members join Let them back out but not look to the head of the plan. Green gravel has only a limited prince gift, London crossed the road and I saw it; Break for a noise like the Lord. A conversation with Nancy displays origins, The full story is flexible too; One consequence is the worm. Silence simple understood mahogany rain, I used to wake up having spoken; You'll also learn books aren't real. Longer than newspapers, richer than bonds, are sea wheels which start the place without subject. To free without excitement. Phillip had all change data voices faded. He says, "A is review, B is new." Now fires of cast metal. She thanks her money, where underneath the last fireman was broken. Automobiles, local radio, the importance of the front. Once we went through and seen him made the minute, worrying her when he gives four borders. Supported up the beach I saw a street moon, North Jamaica had flowers, Rows attack tours of cathedrals. Cast from acquisition, the telephones ring Timing not as beautiful As ionic column shadows The south coast luncheon unrolled at the end with proved inconvenience onto Ground beginning toward walkers. He built where young beach surfers Investigate the harsh deal Still living in a railway diner paradise. Of that, we didn't find out By his description, tenants It was a great state and of course she knows police. Skyscrapers survived of course On the fittest state roadsides She's at the terminal, we know she's terminal. (His first boss dies of cancer, and he took out an insurance policy on his own life). Besides receiving this evidence from experience, He pointed out physical attempts at authenticity. One was like a British possession, Made of little moral or spiritual show. What was best for the land owner was probably all the Gifted developer chains surrounded by adults who knew Splendid perches, former addresses, The oldest and most romantic leased islands. Developers surrounded lakes, positive about it, To me it was an illness and these children couldn't agree But many more children knew the stuff And the child of a child made the decisions. Khris woke up and walked to the cupboard. Coffee or booze? Things didn't seem real. There was some paprika and instant coffee and tooth picks, and baking soda, and Morton Salt. The Morton Salt girl. A sharp point in the tip of the umbrella, containing a grain of risin (deadly poisonous pearl), assassin girl, salt of the earth, temptress as the boys try to look up her dress. The soldiers felt all soft inside as she spoke. A sublime fragrance reminded him of a girl back home. Smile. They asked a bunch of questions and said stuff. "You can't go in there." "What are you doing with an umbrella when the sun is out?" "What's your name?" The first soldier appeared to be napping in his booth. Dreaming of the salt sea. Dead sea. Went to boot camp in Great Lakes. Salt Lake. Thirsty, he stirs, then succumbs. No one suspects the girl. The three piece suit drops his attache case just outside the embassy. Tumbles and sprawls on the sidewalk, one foot in the road, as the poison risin takes effect. Dead. The doctor said lay off the salt. Assassinated by a little girl with an umbrella and no pants. Those delicious secret recipes almost always include something unhealthy. "Pour me another scotch." Khris is older now. He says, "It's gonna rain for a long time." |