by SHEREE SHATSKY
My grandmother tumbles dice from her lucky red martini shaker. The crowd at the Delray Beach American Legion Hall call my grandma the Queen of Craps. She rolls snake eyes.
“Crap,” she says. “A pair of bloody pips.” She shoves the dice at me. “Blow on these quick. For luck.”
Dice remind me of teeth, with cavities. My teeth. Especially a roll of two fours. My mother asked the dentist, “What are the odds of eight cavities in two teeth?” Dr. Dave suggested floss to reduce the probability.
I think about what Dr. Dave said before he filled my cavities. A little pinch to numb the area, keep real still and toward me came a needle as long as the Midnight Train to Georgia. Out of the chair I escaped, hustled back by the dental assistant, a mask cupped over my nose and mouth.
I thrashed and gasped and fought and sighed and ran after a woman draped in glinting gold lamé, Gladys is her name and she turns and tells me she counts Pips among her best friends. God’s lips to your ears child, this is your movie, your show, your world, yours and yours alone.
SHEREE SHATSKY writes wild words. Her work has appeared in a variety of journals, including Cowboy Jamboree, Wraparound South, Fictive Dream, BLACKCACKLE at Entropy and Saw Palm with found poetry at Heron Tree and Harpy Hybrid Review. Ms. Shatsky attended the University of Iowa Writers Workshop summer session 2021 and was selected by the AWP Writer to Writer Mentorship Program as a Spring 2018 mentee for flash fiction. Her work was twice-nominated for Best Microfiction 2020. Sheree calls Florida home and is a Tom Petty fan. Read more of her writing at shereeshatsky.com.