Trick-or-Treat "Tricky" Nicholas, August 21,2011 -January 20, 2020

Trick-or-Treat “Tricky” Nicholas

August 21, 2011 -January 20, 2020

Trick-or-Treat “Tricky” Oreo Nicholas, also known as Twicka, Trix, Trix Nix, entered into rest January 20, 2020 due to complications of asthma and diabetes. Born August 21, 2011, she was homeless as a kitten before joining her furever family on Halloween night that same year. 

At the age of two, Tricky nearly died from an asthma attack. She was attended by Dr. Perry and staff at Perry’s Animal Hospital, the vets at Kanawha Valley Veterinary  Emergency Hospital, and a team of veterinarians at Virginia Tech, where she became an honorary Hokie. Once she was started on an inhaler twice a day, her health stabilized, giving her a total of eight good years with her family. 

Tricky enjoyed spending time with her human and her other best friend, Guinness, the dog. She thoroughly enjoyed slapping the piss out of  her cat roommates. She had a favorite blue string she would carry, meowing every step of the way to get your attention, when she wanted to play. While strings were her favorites, she also enjoyed laser lights and paper bags. Tricky was unable to go outside due to her asthma, but she enjoyed sitting in the window sill taking in warm breezes and watching birds. She got excited when the occasional grasshopper or spider got in the house. 

Tricky was much loved by family, friends, and vets everywhere due to her big purrsonality and super fuzzy cuddles. She will be forever missed. 

The family would like to thank all of the wonderful vets who have been involved in her care and also Cooke Pet Crematorium in Nitro. No visitation will be held because she didn’t like any of you. On the gentlest and fairest day in spring, her ashes will be scattered in Jerry’s memorial guardian.  

Having Words

They see me hanging out,

with all the pretty boys.

They may even see me with their fella,

and call me a ho,

but no.

I could’ve spent the morning 

with a lover,

maybe even your lover,

but it’s sexier to stay in bed with words. 

They find out I write the words,

the words that catch all the pretty girls,

and they call me a lesbian,

but no.

They see me sneakin around on the fringes

and call me a dealer,

and I am.

I deal in words.

Words are smokin hot!

They attract.

Listen to the words from that one! 

Whew! 

He got a turn of phrase.

Is it just us? 

Or you ampersand I? 

Without the words,

you’re at a loss. 

You gotta find the words,

with the roots,

that tunnel down deep

into the soul,

words to make the heart respond, 

“Yes, those words,

from that guy,

in this space and time,

traveled all this way,

because they were meant to fall 

on these ears,

on this day,

and be taken 

this way. 

How you gonna touch me,

if you can’t even reach me? 

And lets get rid of all those weird rules

no one likes, 

such as: 

You are into me except after her.

And 

he always comes before me

especially after alcohol. 

You take my  words,

and slam them shut,

put them on a shelf. 

I’ve made you see

too deeply inside yourself.

If these phrases

that I put together 

just for you 

fall on deaf ears,

then I won’t say

another 

word. 
(c) Trinny Sigler 2020

Mourning Morning

Mourning Morning

Once a year, the ocean and I meet.

I tell him about my troubles, as he caresses my feet.

I tell him all that's happened since I've seen  him last,

of all the good things in my life,

but also of loved ones who have passed.

I talk of people I had a year ago

that I've since lost,

how broken my soul feels without them,

how my heart has been tumbled and tossed.

He gives me shells that have been through the same,

broken, emptied, now polished,

and they still remain.

The sea oats nod with empathy.

"Yes, yes," they whisper as I walk by.

The seagulls hover around,

and sometimes with me cry.

Moody clouds blanket both me and the sky.

The ocean calls out,

"Hey! Look at me!

I'm deep, and I'm blue."

I see that he manages it beautifully,

and I know I can too.

When I get it all poured out

and again am feeling brave,

I call out, "See you next year!"

He says, "I'll be here, dear,"

and waves and waves and waves.

(c) T. Sigler 2019

Creation

Creation

I thought maybe snake handlers,

and the close minded,

weren't the best ones to advise me

about salvation and the cosmos.

The god they spoke of

wasn't a god of love,

so I released him from his duty.

My god looks like Jerry Garcia.

My goddesses are nurturers,

mountain mamas, and healers.

Like violets in the fields they stand,

sucking up the earth's magic

through bare feet on summer nights.

They gaze at stars and don't wonder

but know.

Even the spirits show up to follow them around.

Creators who walk through life

in color,

who write, paint, make music, plant seeds,

make babies, bake bread,

create laughter, or any feeling,

in a soul that has been numb.

This how we are made in the image

of the gods.     

Trinny Sigler

1/13/19

The Warped Sapling

Warped Saplings

T. Sigler

12/29/18

One of these days I'll die,

and the mountains will swallow the place up.

Maybe they'll have a little misty morning tea party,

the leaves cupping dew.

The grass, no longer at threat of being mowed, will flourish.

A bird will fly off on the horizon,

making the sky wink

at the freed vegetation.

He will bring back seeds

and plant his own preferred flowers,

instead of the ones I've chosen all these years.

The trees will head-bang, rocking out to the silence.

Snails, no longer at risk of being stomped,

relax and move in sweet slime time.

The elder pines that surrounded me all my life,

will talk about what a pain-in-the-ass guest I was,

how I destroyed the leaf carpet every fall,

how I broke stuff and burned things,

how I invaded their space, climbed them.

They'll describe me as a warped sapling.

After all this time,

the interloper is gone.

We set out to make our mark on the world,

as if this is a good thing,

but that leaves behind

scars.

We'd do best to not.

Man Trains Pets to Demand Breakfast at 5 a.m. and Other Reasonable Grounds for Divorce

*I pitched this to Points in Case. They said it was more Onion material, but Onion doesn't accept submissions without an agent, so I thought I'd just share it here. 

Man Trains Pets to Demand Breakfast at 5 a.m. and Other Reasonable Grounds for Divorce

Lawmakers look at making divorce easier to cut down on homicide rates

by Trinny Sigler (c)

Betty Lou Guiltenhammer of Pike County, KY, has served five years of her 50 year sentence for bludgeoning her spouse, Jimmy Joe, to death with a high-heeled slipper, after he trained their pets to wake her up at 5 a.m.

"We had five cats, two dogs, and a couple friendly squirrels. He trained them all to wake me up demanding breakfast at five, knowing I don't have to be at work until nine. Jimmy Joe always was jealous because his job started a few hours before mine.

The cats were the first string of attack, and they would start meowing and scratching on the door around four fifty-five. The dogs would bust in next at five. If that didn't get me up, them squirrels would start scratching on the window at five after. It were more than I could take. One morning I heard Jimmy Joe laughing about it, so I took off my slipper and whacked him in the head. I didn't mean to kill him. Who knew I'd hit just the right spot? Reckon our brains are like egg yolks...like puddin'."

Supporters started  the Free Betty Lou campaign to try to get her released. One such supporter was Myra Kendrick who says, "It was an accident. What wife ain't hit their man upside the head with a shoe? They don't usually drop dead. Her sentence shouldn't be more than manslaughter. Maybe even justifiable homicide or not guilty by reason of insanity. Let me ask you something? If five cats, two dogs, and a pair of squirrels woke you up at the ass-crack of dawn, wouldn't that work on you a little? Like water torture, one drip at a time, it  adds up. She broke."

Following Jimmy Joe's death, family and friends of both spouses began pressuring  law makers to make divorce quicker and more accessible. Jimmy Joe's brother, Timmy Bo, spoke about the family's feelings on the matter.

"Marriage ought to be harder to get into and easier to get out of.  Who knew Betty Lou was a psychopath? She always seemed like a sweet girl. Kept the trailer clean. We should've known something was amiss when she did in that rooster during their first year of marriage, but you know...people strangle chickens all the time. But the fact is my brother would be here today, if Betty could've gotten a divorce on the day the pets started harassing her.  He would've kept the pets."

Kentucky is piloting a drive-thru divorce program similar to ordering fast food. Patrons drive up, state their reason, and drive through to pay fees and present paperwork. At the second window, they get the decree. They can write in grounds that are situation specific. Some have included:  Goes running instead of helping with household chores. Spends grocery money on cigarettes, lottery tickets, and beef jerky. Leaves tobacco juice in soda bottles all over the house. Officials in several bordering states are working to devise a smooth, affordable  process. 

"Wish I could've gotten rid of my old lady that easily," said Benny Hogindorf, a local paralegal. "We feel this drive-thru divorce option will be a huge deterrent to first degree murder. Murder is a lot of work, if you think about it. Chasing someone down, killing them, dragging a body through the woods. My ex weighed between three and four hundred pounds.  In those cases you have to have at least one accomplice, maybe two, and good friends are hard to come by. So it's that versus pulling through a drive-thru. No more work than it takes to order breakfast."

While some see it as convenience, others see it as erosion of morality.  

"I think it's an abomination!" says Pastor Effew of the Crystal Methodist Church. "The Bible says that what God has joined, let no man put assunder. Why make breaking the Lord's commands easier? Marriage is a holy covenant. It shouldn't be treated like tacos."

Kentucky is working around this commandment by only allowing women to run the drive thru. The pilot program makes use of abandoned restaurants, in this case, a former fish joint. A pretty blonde pulls up to the menu board, which offers up some example grounds for divorce in case patrons are too tired and agitated to come up with one. She says into the speaker, "Yes, I'd like a divorce, please."

"On what grounds?"

"He routinely takes all the coffee and doesn't make a new pot."

"Any property or kids to divide up?"

"No, he can have it all. I just want out."

"Stop at the first window so the clerk can record this, and then proceed to the second window so the judge can give you the decree. Take the decree home and hang it on the fridge. If he wants to counter, he will have to drive thru himself. Today's drive-thru is free, but each time y'all come back over this, the cost goes up by a thousand dollars. Cash in hand. Enjoy the rest of your day! And if you are happy with our services, my name is Kayla. Will you take this survey? Like us on Facebook!"

Easy Peasy.

Meanwhile from her six by eight cell in prison, Betty Lou Guiltenhammer expresses remorse. "I never meant to kill Jimmy Joe, but if I become the poster child for the rapid divorce, then he didn't die in vain. I mean, if we can do it with tax refunds and mortgages, why can't we do it with divorce too? Why make people wait six months or more? That just gives spouses time to plot each other's demise.

I do think Jimmy Joe set out to drive me crazy when he trained those pets. Well, you got your wish, baby," she says as she simultaneously rubs her locket and points to the heavens, "I took the crazy train down to homicide town. It was a shame Jimmy Joe was on the tracks, but there's consequences for every action. I'm serving mine, and Jimmy's serving his. But no other couples should have to suffer this way..."

The Tea Party

The Tea Party

When Spring and Summer sit down to tea,

the crickets keep them company.

The steam from their cups often fills

the lowly valleys and lofty hills.

The peepers, those little frogs,

pop up from the bottom of their bogs.

Their songs carry on the warm evening air,

and awaken the green infants everywhere.

Once the trees are clothed in their emerald gowns,

mild sister Spring lets her defenses down.

Summer steps in, heats up, and takes over.

The green children run wild from ivy to clover.

They fill up yards and scurry up trees.

They shade the snakes and feed bumble bees.

The moonflowers are an ornery sight.

They come out past curfew and stay out all night.

When Summer’s children start acting too bold,

then she realizes that she’s getting old.

She can’t keep the trees’ gowns clean.

They turn crusty brown instead of soft green.

The butterflies first feel the distress.

They leave to escape the hot, humid mess.

The trees shake their fists at the sky and demand:

“Do something about this parched, filthy land!”

All of the green children start to protest.

They are getting tired and need their rest.

So in order to answer their humble plea,

Summer sends for Autumn and invites him to tea.
(c) Trinny Sigler 1995