The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.
Dawn learned her relationship with Mark wasn't an exclusive one when he yelled, "Oh, Penny," while they made hot love in the market's meat locker. She took it as a sign they wouldn't be together much longer and wondered if anyone noticed a different taste in today's ground beef special.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
He Hoped She'd Come Around
First published at MudJob
I met Charlie at the first gator wrastlin' contest I promoted. Most of the female competitors looked like they ate airboats for lunch. Charlie was different. She had curves and all her teeth.
I watched her muscles strain against the tail-snappin' beast, saw the determination in her eyes, and fell in love. I chased her around Florida for a year before she agreed to be my wife. That was twenty years ago. We made quite a career together but age was catchin' up, and it was time for us to think about retirin' from the sport, especially Charlie. In the past two years, she lost a pinkie, suffered a dislocated hip, and ended up in the hospital for a week after comin' back too soon from a concussion.
I told her I was tired of the travelin', asked if she'd like to have a baby. Said I thought it would give us somethin' new to wrastle. Her eyes lit up like a volcano, and she stomped around the Winnebago and yelled so loud I thought she'd blow a wall down. I sneaked into the bathroom and waited for the floor to stop shakin'.
A few nights later, while we did the dinner dishes, I suggested we start a gator farm and sell admission. I told her she could still wrastle a gator now and then, as long as it was a small one. I was doin' okay until I got to the small part. She glared at me, picked up a fork with both hands, and bent it into a right angle. That's when I headed back to the bathroom.
Not knowin' what else to do, I spoke to Preacher Frank this mornin'. He's not a real preacher. He dresses like one, shouts preacher-like words, and then swallows fire and spits out the flames. That always gets lots of oohs and aahs and amens--and a few chuckles. He told me to be patient, that it took some people a long time to settle into the idea of retirin'. He also told me it might be a good idea if I didn't use the word baby again.
I can't say he helped much. Well, maybe the baby part. I love Charlie and want her to be happy. Hey, maybe I should take her to Disney World. She's never been there, and she might find a job that doesn't require wrastlin'.
I met Charlie at the first gator wrastlin' contest I promoted. Most of the female competitors looked like they ate airboats for lunch. Charlie was different. She had curves and all her teeth.
I watched her muscles strain against the tail-snappin' beast, saw the determination in her eyes, and fell in love. I chased her around Florida for a year before she agreed to be my wife. That was twenty years ago. We made quite a career together but age was catchin' up, and it was time for us to think about retirin' from the sport, especially Charlie. In the past two years, she lost a pinkie, suffered a dislocated hip, and ended up in the hospital for a week after comin' back too soon from a concussion.
I told her I was tired of the travelin', asked if she'd like to have a baby. Said I thought it would give us somethin' new to wrastle. Her eyes lit up like a volcano, and she stomped around the Winnebago and yelled so loud I thought she'd blow a wall down. I sneaked into the bathroom and waited for the floor to stop shakin'.
A few nights later, while we did the dinner dishes, I suggested we start a gator farm and sell admission. I told her she could still wrastle a gator now and then, as long as it was a small one. I was doin' okay until I got to the small part. She glared at me, picked up a fork with both hands, and bent it into a right angle. That's when I headed back to the bathroom.
Not knowin' what else to do, I spoke to Preacher Frank this mornin'. He's not a real preacher. He dresses like one, shouts preacher-like words, and then swallows fire and spits out the flames. That always gets lots of oohs and aahs and amens--and a few chuckles. He told me to be patient, that it took some people a long time to settle into the idea of retirin'. He also told me it might be a good idea if I didn't use the word baby again.
I can't say he helped much. Well, maybe the baby part. I love Charlie and want her to be happy. Hey, maybe I should take her to Disney World. She's never been there, and she might find a job that doesn't require wrastlin'.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
His Royal Highness
The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.
His aerodynamic ego puzzled many, but not Maeve. She possessed the magic to pierce his armored exterior. As if facing a rival, he stood before her, unmoved by her stare, until she pursed her purple lips and said, "No, you can't go out and play. It's raining you silly puppy."
His aerodynamic ego puzzled many, but not Maeve. She possessed the magic to pierce his armored exterior. As if facing a rival, he stood before her, unmoved by her stare, until she pursed her purple lips and said, "No, you can't go out and play. It's raining you silly puppy."
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The Note
This fun little mystery is up at Kings River Life.
http://kingsriverlife.com/03/10/the-note-mystery-short-story/
http://kingsriverlife.com/03/10/the-note-mystery-short-story/
Sunday, March 4, 2012
The Stranger Amongst Us
The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.
The man's face belonged in a museum, in the section for the not famous, for those whose advice was feared, a concealed room of an antiquated, forgotten period, one where the man's secret would remain just that, where no one would learn he was the unknown artifact from Pandora's Box.
The man's face belonged in a museum, in the section for the not famous, for those whose advice was feared, a concealed room of an antiquated, forgotten period, one where the man's secret would remain just that, where no one would learn he was the unknown artifact from Pandora's Box.
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