Mrs. Thursday :)

She's a crowd pleaser.


Everyone's favorite.


Or at least that's what she's convinced herself.


She's fancy.


Every week a new do.


With the added piece of blue, purple, or green track for "pop".





She prides herself in her shoe collection.


Can't afford Louboutins,


So she settles for Jessica Simpson's


And paints the soles red.





She's in love with the dude that gathers the carts at the grocery store.


He loves her too.

But he stutters,

Has no money,

And works at a grocery store.


Her image is too important to her to love the "grocery cart guy".


Where she's from and who she is embarrasses her.


She has a plan of escape.


She sleeps with city-wide officials.


She loves "politicking".


Throws back a shot of Tequila and drunkenly convinces herself he's going to leave his wife for her.


"Mrs. Mayor it does have a nice ring to it", she says repeatedly to herself in the mirror.


Thursday night is their night.

She accepts the Thursday night intimate invasions as a down payment on her future wedding ring.


But she constantly wonders why he never looks at her face.


See, Thursday nights are done from behind.


"I never want to make eye contact" he told her when they started.


Every Thursday at 11:30 pm he faithfully invades her space like Poland on Nazi Germany.


She is intrigued by his militarism.


He stands at attention and she salutes him in the nude.


Because secretly, she always wanted a reoccurring role on Army Wives.



When he's done he leaves an envelope on the pillow and says, "You done good, girlie. See you next Thursday."


No kiss goodbye.


No cuddling or how was your day?


She lays on her stomach and rests her chin on her hands.


She doesn't want to smudge her red lip on the white feather pillows.


She's grown to love the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.


She reaches over and grabs the envelope.


On it written in what she considers the manuscript of power is: "To: Mrs. Thursday :)"


She's been labeled Mrs. one-day-of-the-week.


She smiles. She loves her nickname.


Inside of the envelope is a note and two crisp $100 bills.


She excitedly hops up and grabs her purse.


She pulls out another envelope which reads: "Wedding Fund"


She adds her newly earned Benjamin's to her stash.


She collapses back on the bed in sheer bliss.


She begins to read the note: "Happy 16th Birthday girlie, you done good. Love, The Mayor."


She kissed the note as if she were kissing him.


"One day" she says, "I'll be your Mrs. Everyday-a-week."