Inspiration: Dry Erase Markers

A:
Who thinks they can have MY dry erase marker? Get your own! I wasn't one for sharing. No, I'm not an only child. Far from it. But father left me and my 6 siblings nothing. Every one of us for ourselves. You can say we've all got the only child syndrome. And if you ask the lot of them, I've got it the worst. They'd say, "She used up all the hot water in the house." Or "She used up all the TP and didn't bother to refill it." They'd say I was selfish that when father had been around, I turned him against every single one of them. He'd loved me the most and gave me the best presents... well, better than the ones he gave them. That's what they'd say, anyway. And you know why they'd say it? 'Cause they're jealous. I look more like him than any of the rest of them. They wish they had green eyes like us. They were stuck with plain old brown. They were nothing but God-awful regulars. And no one wanted to be like them. They didn't even like themselves because they all looked the same. And they all thought the same. They were jealous of me, always jealous of dad's little crush on me. But dad didn't throw anyone a bone... especially now that he's dead.

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A:
The one thing I remember most about dry erase markers... my boss. She used to sniff those suckers like they were flowers. Only... those weren't nearly as beautiful as real flowers... by no means. I don't know what her fetish was. Why she'd have to remove the cap from a blue one, sniff it, cap it, set it down. Pick up a green one, sniff it, cap it, set it down. Pick up the red one, sniff it, cap it, set it down... As if they all smelled different! Really? They were all the fucking same, woman! I wanted to scream at her. And that look in her eyes, her mouth twitching, everything grimaced, then relaxed. She knew she wasn't smelling the daisies... unless it was a dead one gasping for its final breath. And she was this way. Sniffing those things as if they were the last time she'd ever sniff. I wonder if her nose even functioned after this. I came in one day, wearing some pungent odor of a perfume. She didn't even notice. The wheels and cogs in her ol' olfactory stopped producing a scent. But they had a soft spot for dry erase markers.

5 Minute Writing Exercises

I write a lot in my notebooks, so I thought to translate them to digital format so I know where I can find them. (I haven't been very organized lately.) So stay tuned for some 5-minute writing exercises.

Winter Time by Charles Mee

Some online reading:
http://www.panix.com/~meejr/html/wintertime.html