August 26, 2009


A cat’s eye marble, crystal clear with a neatly centered yellow ribbon twist, rolled across the rug and came to a stop next to a short heavy club which leaned against the wall in the corner of the room nearest the fireplace.

“Excuse me, club, are you tall enough to see the clock? I’d like to know what time it is,” said the marble in her small round voice.

“Cudgel,” replied the club shortly.

“Pardon?” said the polite little marble.

“I’m not a club. I’m a cudgel! I smash, bash, and break! I crush! Oh, how I love to shatter things! Shatter, I tell you, shatter!” said the short heavy club with much emotion.

The cat’s eye marble rolled quietly away.


A proud boulder, an agate shooter nicely nicked with many a battle scar on its cloudy blue, white and moss green surface, rolled across the concrete floor of the garage, climbed the curled edge of the corroded cookie sheet under the neglected Pontiac, and came to a rest on a lovely thick slick of amber oil. The aged marble blissfully sighed.


The pure clear crystal marble, proud and haughty, allowed herself to be gilded by feathery brushes and lifted to assume the position of honor at the apex of the centerpiece on the Royal Table in the Hall of Kings there in the Queen‘s Castle. Jack came by at 10 to make certain all was in readiness. All was.

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