Lipstick on a Pig.

By Lisa Luz

Lipstick on a pig is a "micro-stories" concept. It's fast, and it's easy. It allows readers of all levels and attention spans to enjoy a quick ride into adventure. So if novel reading is outside your wheelhouse, and you grow impatient with book buildups, check out the titles of the stories from Lipstick on a pig. And if one looks interesting, go to that page and begin an instant journey. Minimal investment for immediate entertainment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Jul 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662937033

Book preview

Walk the Plank

Thanksgiving Day. It's a time to give thanks. It's a time to reflect on your blessings of friends and family. However, for an officer, it's a time to referee the once grateful family that has now had too much sugar to eat and too much alcohol to drink. As I receive the call for a domestic dispute between roommates, I sigh deeply, pining for the solace of my home and a home-cooked meal. Once I arrived, I had to settle my nerves before knocking on the door. I would always need just a moment to collect my thoughts because it triggered me to deal with other people's holiday problems instead of sitting in my home and being genuinely grateful for my family. As I began to knock, my mind took me to a Thanksgiving when I was ten years old, and I watched my step-father, in a fit of rage, throw our turkey and dressing in the trash can.

The door began to pop as the rotted paneling scraped over the seal and violently opened. And I am drawn back into the moment as I meet face-to-face with a drunk white male whose country twang took me back to the dueling banjo scene in the movie Deliverance. As I refocused, I entered the home, a trailer with two fold-out chairs in the living room in front of a massive state-of-the-art TV because entertainment is at the priority forefront of any home, and we wouldn't want to miss our shows. He points toward the kitchen and tells me his roommate drank the last beer. As I round the corner to the kitchen, I abruptly stop. There was no kitchen floor, just two planks of wood that ran the length of what would be the floor. The fridge rested snugly on what was left. He glided across the planks as if he was born to do so. Myself, not so much. So I stood there and balanced the best I could as I looked in the fridge to bring some validation to his story with the base of the trailer looming underneath me.

I could see the cinder blocks it rested on, other assorted unrecognizable things, and perhaps a dead possum that accounted for the smell. I snapped back into attention when I heard his voice raise as his tone twanged, Ain't 'cha gonna take any pictures? I wasn't planning on taking any photos of the so-called evidence. The evidence was a six-pack of empty plastic rings where beer once was. I rolled my eyes as I reached into the depth of the fridge and pulled out the rings. Gave a disingenuous grin and told him I would do even better. I would put the plastic rings into evidence. That seemed to appease him as he gave a big, wide toothless grin that looked like Mr. Grinch when he stole the last can of Who Hash. Out of curiosity, I asked, Where is your roommate? He replied, In his room, passed out. Of course he is. I sharply retorted. I peered into an empty bedroom and spotted the alleged perpetrator lying face down on a sheet crumpled across the floor that served as a mattress. I decided to let the sleeping bear lie. And with that, I was headed towards the door when my daydream of getting out of the trailer was rudely interrupted by the toothless terror waving the six-pack rings in the air and telling me not to forget them. I grabbed the rings, gave a faint and, I'm