Humor
Peacock & Peach
Gerry grew up in a low rental district in southern Ontario, almost ghetto like in the 60’s, 70’s, and part 80’s. They were and still are tough neighborhoods and one had to learn how to fight, run, or hide. High on the introvert scale he didn’t associate much but he did learn how to fight in the streets. Saw the first guns come into the area in the early 80’s via Jamestown, New York when the Crips and Blood began to venture north. By the mid 80’s he finally left the old neighborhood to never return, to start his own life. He thought he left everything behind when at the age of 63 he had a confrontation in downtown Toronto and like Iron Mike, Gerry came out of retirement. He didn’t get paid 5 Mil. but came out on top of a much younger opponent. Robin Hood was his boyhood hero, and he loved to climb trees and later learned archery. Gerry is always for the underdog. His first bicycle was purple. Athletic in many sports he is about to embark in Roller Speed Skating. A runner, past triathlete, like most Canadians played hockey. Learning early in life that a silent standout in a crowd is feared. He stays in shape to protect his children shielded from the life he knows. He has a wife, six kids, one grandchild and one on the way. A mechanic, once a graphic artist and illustrator.
By Gerry Thibeault2 days ago in Fiction
Veggiewood: The Golden Fork Affair
In Veggiewood, it takes more than a golden fork to prove you're a cut above the rest. 🏆 The annual superfood awards Veggiewood's IT crowd of Veggiewood--top nutritionists, Michelin chefs and other culinary elite. It gave the creme de la creme of the vegetable kingdom a chance to see and be seen. Of course, kale, quinoa, avocado, and blueberry had their eyes on the coveted Golden Fork. Kale, the first contestant, strutted her stuff across the stage. She was a mean contender with an enviable list of antioxidant credentials under her green belt. Quinoa demanded recognition for her whole-grain lineage and had the enthusiastic backing of her public relations team. Carrot stood out among the common roots, and feared that she was nothing special. She gazed at the others, orange with envy. Avocado was fashionably late, flanked by a score of blueberry guards. The competition was frighteningly intense. Worried that she was losing her uniquely orange edge, Carrot hired a marketing consultant. She underwent a complete rebranding, emerging fit and toned, a highly exclusive wellness product. Media hype was a natural consequence. The orange root was now no longer a vegetable--she was an exclusive orange wellness experience. She had progressed socially and economically from humble soil to haute couture--and her price had risen faster than her nutritional value. Friendships changed. "You're far too pedestrian for my new image," she told her old friend, Potato. Her tastes, too, had outclassed her earthy origins. The vegetable community kitchen had always been a major contributor to the World Food Day Lunch--their produce status compelled them to contribute regularly. Potato and Onion were enthusiastic participants. Onion brought tears to everyone's eyes with his keen involvement. "Joining us, carrot?" They bobbed up and down as they handed her a pamphlet. "Well... I'd better not." With her new status, she HAD to be wary of what she was involved in. That same day, she passed the kitchen. Everyone was up to their necks in preparations, eager to gaze into the eyes of hungry baby potatoes glowing in anticipation. Everyone but herself. She received the much-anticipated gold-embossed envelope in the mail --the coveted invitation to Veggiewood's Golden Fork ceremony. Just then, the community kitchen realised that it needed an ingredient for soup.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin8 days ago in Fiction
