Dona E. Bowens

I would contend, insist, argue to the death that Tuesday is the funniest day of the week and the neck is the funniest part of the body.

She punched him in the neck on a Tuesday.

I’ve been trying valiantly to find an excuse to use that line in one of my scribblings but haven’t managed to squeeze it in yet. It’s an entire plot unto itself. Why did she punch the man in the neck of all places? Maybe she was aiming for the face and could only reach as high as a mofo’s neck? And why on a Tuesday? Probably because all other days have a claim to fame and Tuesday’s just sitting out there, devoid of personality and waiting to get into a little something-something. So of course she punched him in the neck on a Tuesday.

She didn’t run over his foot on Hump Day or bless him out on the Lord’s Day. Nooooo, this bitch woke up on a Tuesday and went right for the jugular—located in the sonovabitch’s neck.

See, “she punched him in the neck on a Tuesday,” is a great opening line to a short story. Sometimes stories come to me this way, just one random line around which I build a glorious lie. The remainder of this tale hasn’t come to me yet…but it will once I crawl into the writing cave and get lit(erature) up! I understand completely why so many creatives have a special relationship with the drink and other substances. Just a touch of something wedges the mind open and let’s the creativity spill out and onto the page or canvas or dance floor or guitar riff.

You may thinking that I came up with Tuesday neck punching while under the influence, but you’d be wrong. Thought of that one while stone cold sober—watch this space for what I come up with following a toke or two. Won’t be long now because I’VE FOUND A HOUSE! The repatriation is nearly complete and I hope to have the writing cave up and functioning in time for Independence Day. Huh? Won’t that be apropos? Back in my own digs by Independence Day? Imagine that…