Beanery Online Literary Magazine

March 23, 2011

WTF: The Church Janitor and the Pigeons

Filed under: WR/BW DMITRI — beanerywriters @ 3:00 am
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BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE
WTF: THE CHURCH JANITOR AND THE PIGEONS
Dmitri

I took a joke I heard, which did not include WTFs, and created a story that did include WTFs.

     A priest noticed many pigeons which were living on the fine cathedral he so fervently loved—pigeons which were, well…. doing what pigeons do. The priest exclaimed WTF (Were These Feathers) those of angels I would not mind their presence here. So he asked the janitor to solve the problem. The janitor said WTF (Wings That Flap) shall no more flap and crap upon your blessed roof!
     The Janitor climbed high to the very tip of the steeple, where he placed the image of an (more…)

December 15, 2010

A Not So Gooey, Syrupy Christmas Tale

Filed under: WR/BW DMITRI — beanerywriters @ 1:30 am
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BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

A NOT SO GOOEY, SYRUPY CHRISTMAS TALE

Dmitri

Christmas is such a warm time of gooey syrupy emotions yet many persons experience just the opposite. Below is my not so gooey, syrupy Christmas story that I just felt like writing. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I submitted it to the Beanery Online Literary Magazine.

     I’m sure I’m not alone in finding Christmas a time to look back to simpler times when family and friends gathered ‘round the hearth after a turkey dinner, pumpkin pie and cranberries.
     Of course, I really don’t remember the hearth. I just remember a crappy fake fire place with some kind of red bulb and propeller that was supposed to go ‘round and flicker.  Yea, that sure fooled me.
     But I could be thankful for a good turkey dinner. Well it wasn’t really turkey—it was meat loaf made with mystery meat. The mashed potatoes were lumpy. And forget the pie, let alone pumpkin pie. I mean really, Grandma, was that too much (more…)

September 18, 2009

Her Gift

Filed under: WR/BW DMITRI — beanerywriters @ 12:40 am
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BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

HER GIFT

Dmitri

From her concealment, I take her measure:

Compliant one she is—I bind her hands.

Her only purpose becomes my pleasure;

willing, waiting, she thrives on my commands.

Held in respect as ought this awesome gift,

I touch her cheek as in her eyes I see

her (more…)