"Haggis? What the hell for?" Why didn't she just go?
"For a change, it's nice to try a recipe or two from home." His grandfather had moved over to Toronto from Scotland many years ago, and the family liked to keep old traditions alive.
"Home? Home! I've had enough of home!" He stormed out of the lounge and grabbed his jacket. The slam of the front door almost broke a hinge as he left.
Before he knew it he was at the river, sitting on a bench. He didn't remember getting there.
"Hey, hello. James, isn't it?" A woman with a dog came up to him.
"What?"
"James, yes, it is you. From 8th Grade? It's Henriette, HenrietteThicket? Remember me?" The woman now stood over him, smiling. What was there to be happy about.
"No, I bloody don't! Clear off!"
"Oh dear, are you okay? We were school pals once, don't you...?"
"I said clear off!"
"What happened to you, James? You used to be so charming..."
"And now I'm not!"
The dog barked and the woman walked away, muttering under her breath.
"Dear, are you okay?" It was his mother. She'd followed him.
"What the hell! Leave me alone!"
She put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off.
"Look, dear, I know what happened was a terrible tragedy, but you have to move on, we all do."
"Why? Why do I have to move on?" He tried not to think about it.
"Yes, there's a time to mourn, yes, but then there's a time to heal..."
"Heal? Will they heal?" He stood up, wanting to walk away but he was rotted to the spot.
"No, dear, they won't. But if you don't let it go..."
"Let it go? How can I let it go? They were my family! Mine! And I lost them forever!"
"Lost them forever? Dear, you couldn't have stopped..."
"Yes! Yes, I could have!"
"Shall I call Mary? Maybe she..."
"Who? Who the hell is Mary?"
"She's your wife, dear, and mother to..."
"Yes? Yes? Mother to who, Ma! Mother to who? Nobody! They're gone! Gone, d'ya hear! While I was inside with my measuring tape, working out the size of a cupboard for their room, they were outside, playing tetherball in the front garden! Next thing I knew, I heard it, the sound of brakes and a crash outside!"
"Look, son, I..."
"I lost everything that day, everything!"
His mother gently sat him back down on the bench.
"Yes, you did. But we all did, James. We all did. I lost two fantastic grandchildren..."
"Who cares?"
They sat silently for a while.
"James, you're not the only one who's suffering. I also lost a caring daughter-in-law who you've just thrown out of your life, and I think I've also lost my wonderful son."
"I'm still here, aren't I?"
"I'm not too sure about that." She stood up and left.
Weekend Quickie 86 (90) - Sweet tooth
(Edible underwear, Godzilla, a mannequin that looks like your mother, Victoria Secret. 150 words)
"Hey, Simmons! That mannequin looks like your mother!"
He gave Johnson the bird and continued to stare at the lingerie window display. The dummy in question was wearing some line from Victoria Secret. At least that's what it said on the tag. He wondered whether they stocked what he was looking for.
"The Porno shop is down the street, Simmons! Go get yourself a film or summit! Ha!"
Ignoring his classmates' taunts, he stepped into the shop, passing by a couple of women searching through the bras. They gave him evil stares. The shop assistant at the counter seemed a little surprised to see a small uniformed boy standing before her, but she smiled.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"Yes, please. Do you have edible underwear?"
"What?" The shop assistant looked at him like he was Godzilla.
"The sweet shop down the street is closed. I'm dying for some candy..."
Weekend Quickie 87 (91) Sunday Edition - Them Brownies
(RPaticorn (Robert Pattinson), a brick, a palm tree, a Japanese fisherman 150 words)
Down by the river, I watched the ducks and swans fight for what crumbs were left from the kids who'd stopped there for a break to or from wherever they were going or coming. A fisherman sat close by and mumbled under his breath.
"Sorry?"
"Sorera no imaimashi kodomo-tachi wa, karera ga sakana o hanarete obie!"
"Erm..."
"Anata no eigo, anata wa nani no tame no keii o motteinai!"
Confused, I moved on quickly, only to trip on the edge of a brick which was set higher than the others in the newly-laid path near the river and found myself hugging what looked like a palm tree to keep from falling. Images of Robert Pattinson in a pink unicorn costume came into my head, 'RPaticorn'. The fisherman held up his fist and said something.
Next time I'm gonna lay off those double choc chip brownies from my mate in Amsterdam.
"Escribe de'Trois" Challenge - Up in the Trees
(a tree stand, star dust, edible underwear)
by Spanky Strawberry Slokovich
Gark the bear settled himself down in the undergrowth under the star-filled sky, munching on some berries he'd picked up earlier and watched his weekly hunter entertainment. Dave, tall and lanky, was over in the tree on the left, while Bob, a fat ball of a man, on a tree to the right. They both sat there in their state-of-the-art-the-best-money-can-buy tree stands some twenty feet up, their guns loaded and ready as they scanned the forest for movement. Not a soul was about. They'd already been up there half the night and looked about ready to quit.
"What does it all mean, Bob?" asked Dave, lowering his gun and staring up at the stars.
"'It's a pronoun, Dave," replied his overly-chubby partner.
"No, Bob, 'it', the ultimate question."
"Oh."
"Looking up at that sky, it makes me feel?insignificant, you know."
"You are insignificant, Dave."
"Shut up, Bob."
"Right."
"No, I mean, I feel like we're all just 'cosmic dust' in the universe."
"Oh yeah, right. Deep, Dave, real deep. Like star dust, you mean?"
"Stardust? That was a shit movie."
"Come on, Dave. Any film with Michelle Pfeiffer in it is worth a look."
"Good point."
Gark scratched himself and accidentally snapped a twig. Both hunters aimed their guns out into the forest below, searching, but finding nothing. He heard Dave's stomach growl louder than his Aunt Nellie's.
"So, what have you got, Bob?"
"Eh?"
"The food, the food. What have you got?"
"Erm?nothing?"
"What? But it was your turn to bring the food!"
Dave's shouting upset an animal some distance away, causing it to flutter and squawk away into the night.
"Shhh, we're not gonna shoot anything if you shout like that."
"Are you telling me that you didn't bring ANYTHING?"
"Erm, well, I do have something."
"Great. I thought we were done for. What have you got?"
"You won't like it."
"You didn't bring dry roasted peanuts again, did you? You know I hate them."
"No, not that."
"Well?"
"Erm, well..."
"Yes?"
"Well, you know, I hadn't actually planned on being here with you tonight."
"Yeah, I know. You had that date with Maisy, the bird at the diner. But she had to change shifts at short notice. Sad."
"Yep."
Gark looked on as Bob sat in silence and Dave came to some hideous realisation, one he truly didn't like.
"No."
"What?"
"No, Bob, don't tell me."
"Come on, at least it's something."
"I am NOT going to eat them!"
"Very nutritional, you know, edible underwear."
"Oh, come on
!"
Bob had already reached into his camouflage trousers and ripped off a large chunk of candy-tasting pink boxers. Dave's stomach roared once more, one Gark would have been proud of.
"Oh, go on, then. Throw me over a bit."
"What would you prefer? Front or back?"
Gark choked on his berries, only to lift his head to find two barrels aimed straight at him. Ever heard the joke of the bear crapping in the woods? No rabbit this time.
The "Weekday" Quickie #1 - Lunar New Year - The name's Dieter
(Rules: you may only use the letter a four times in your story. There will not be any mammals in this story. 250 words. Chinese Lunar New Year, the name Dieter, a carrot.)
(25 words)
"The name's Dieter, I am a carrot. I was grown before the Chinese Lunar New Year. You may know me from such movies as...AHHH!"
103 - Retribution
(Iron handcuffs, barn owls, a light bulb salesperson, a bumper sticker)
How is it that straw can always find a way under your clothes and scratch you to death?
"It's a jeep. If I wanted a Hummer, I'd call your sister." He threw my ripped off bumper sticker at me.
"Hey! That wasn't cheap! $1.99 at the drive-through!"
"You were robbed."
I was assaulted. Driving down Highway 10 past Phoenix, I noticed this pick-up on my tail. I thought nothing of it until it rammed me and pushed my car off the road and into a ditch. Before I could recover, a fist came through my window and that was that. Now I'm lying in some farm building, dead of night, trousers missing, tied to a strut on a chain with iron handcuffs, with only a couple of hooting barn owls and a crazy to keep me company.
"You think you can disrespect my sister like that, you got another thing coming!" It wasn't his loud manner that was disturbing, it was the shotgun under his arm.
"It's only a bumper sticker! Hell, you knocked me off the road for that? Unchain me right now!"
"You're in no position to order anyone around! Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!"
He paced up and down, glancing at me and toying with his gun.
"Look, guy, I'm a nobody. If it's money you want, I've got some in my..." He'd taken my jacket.
"Yes, I know. I've got all your stuff."
"Then...what? What is this all about?"
"Don't go playing the fool with me!" It isn't the weapon that hurts you, it's the person holding it. A gun butt hurts when placed forcefully against your head. Took me a while to get up from that one.
"So...it's not money, you've got my money. It's the bumper sticker? Seriously?"
"No, of course not! But it shows your shallow mentality!"
"Do...do I know you?" I would have recognised this monster of a man with a gun under his arm if I'd seen him before.
"No. But I know someone you've met."
Met? I'm a light bulb salesperson. I meet a lot of people, sometimes in dark rooms.
"Who? Who do I know?"
"My mother!"
Crap. I'd done a few dodgy deals with some old ladies in the past week. Even sold a tonload of LEDs to an old girl down in Ajo. About $200 worth. What she was going to do with them, I had no idea. Perhaps make a disco ball from all her chandaliers. Nice town.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Does Mavis Henkell ring a bell?"
"Err..." That was the one. Damn. He threw a large opened cardboard box in front of me and aimed his gun.
"Remember her now?"
"Err...yes, yes, I do. I'll reimburse her, I promise. I'll give back double she paid...really, really, I will. I'm sorry..."
"What? Reimburse! No, you dumbass! You gave her the wrong box! She wanted pink and purple lights, not blue and green!"
He locked and loaded.
Weekend Quickie 88 (92) - Terrible
(200 words. A priest, a rabbi, a cowboy, a photo of a roller skate disco)
"Hey, the other day I saw a cowboy, a priest and a rabbi going into a roller skate disco," started Bob.
"What is this? A joke?" asked Ted.
"No, really! They were doing some fancy dress roller skate disco up at the Rec. I went as a gorilla."
"No change there, then. Did you at least get it cleaned this time?"
"The smell and moss give it authenticity!"
"It gives you no friends!"
"Whatever. But you know what?"
"What?"
"There was a terrible accident a few hours later, you know, all those costumes, people can't skate properly."
"Uh-huh. Anything on the telly?"
"Anyway, a lot of people got hurt. Cuts, bruises, even broken bones. The cowboy broke both legs."
"Ride 'em cowboy?oh good, some QI repeats on 'Dave'."
"Are you listening?"
"Trying not to."
"Well,do you know what?"
"I guess I'm gonna find out?why isn't this remote working?"
"Hit it."
"Right."
"You know what? The guys dressed up as the priest and the rabbi?"
"Yeah?"
"Everyone else got hurt?"
"Let me guess, they came out of it unscathed, due to some 'godlike' force?"
"No. They died on the spot. I told you it was a terrible accident."
Weekend Quickie 89 (93) Sunday Edition - Chuck
(200 words Ice Cream Sundae, Weight Watchers, horn-rimmed glasses, a donkey)
"What about that one?" Bob tucked into his chocolate ice cream sundae. I glanced over to where he'd pointed.
"Whoa! Who let that dog out?" I was at it again, scouting for birds at our local summer fete. Not one of them would touch me but that wouldn't stop me from looking.
"Nothing wrong with her," he slurped.
"Nothing that six months at Weight Watchers couldn't solve, no. The monobrow and moustache are a bonus, I guess, eh?"
"Okay, she's not the greatest thing on four...two legs."
"Not much fashion sense, either. I mean, horn-rimmed glasses?"
"Come on, Retro! It's the 'in-thing'."
"Yeah, but I think they're original. And the long, swishing summer dress don't set her natural curves, all seven of them, off well."
"More to grab hold of, Ted."
"You know how to make my day, don't you, Bob?"
"Oh yes."
"Face it, Bob, she's a swamp donkey to the highest degree." He got hurt with that last remark and forlornly placed his spoon back into his bowl.
"Okay, I'll go over there and tell her the engagement's off." He walked away, a broken man.
"Break it to her gently, now. You don't want to get crushed!"
104 - Word Blind
(The next to the last person alive on Earth, image of woman reading a book in a windowseat in a house, you have written the best story you could have ever wrote. Tell me about it. A lawn mower blade)
(50 word special)
She quietly sat there in the windowseat, reading the best story I've ever written about the next to last person alive on Earth, when a lawn mower blade smashed through the window and cleanly sliced off her head. I had told Bernie not to cut the grass in the rain!
(500 words)
She sat there, cuddled up with my new manuscript in the windowseat as the rain came down outside. We were alone in the cottage, no phone, no television, no electricity. Our closest neighbours were miles away across the valley and the nearest shop was in the next county. We'd been couped up in this place for almost three months, both trying to write our own masterpieces of literature, with no contact from the outside world. It was as though she was the next to last person alive on Earth.
"I'm telling you, Dorothy, that is the best story I have ever written and could ever write," I said, breaking the silence.
"Uh-huh." She continued to read, turning the pages slowly.
"I think I've caught the essence of what I was looking for, a little Eliot and Faulkner, some Williams and a hint of Salinger."
"Uh
-huh."
In my lap was her manuscript, well-thumbed and earmarked. Not only had I read and reread it a dozen times and left scribbled notes on every page, I'd also left some Post-its in places I thought needed some drastic attention. Hers was a romance, a story similar to Austen and Bront? mixed into the 21st century. A little too quaint for my liking but a good effort.
"Well?" She'd been at it all day, reading and rereading parts of my story, but not saying a word, writing one note, giving any indication of what she thought of it. I was becoming increasingly frustrated.
"A minute," was all she'd say. That was over three hours ago.
I sighed and went to make another tea. When I came back, she was looking out of the window, watching the rain. My manuscript was on the table, lying there like some unwanted beast.
"Ooo, I'd die for one thanks." She took my tea and I went back for another.
"Well?" I asked once again.
"It's good."
"'It's good'. It's good? Is that all you have to say?"
"Yes. It's good."
"Right." We sat in silence. The clock ticked on and the rain hit the window.
"I do, however, have a few questions," she said, clearing her throat.
"Yes?" Finally, some feedback from three months of work. I sweated over this story, stayed up late to complete my daily quota, until I finally finished the first draft. It was then a grind as I drove through my first edit, finding my spelling mistakes and continuity errors, and a pleasure tweaking the melody of the piece until I came to the finished article.
"Yes. What's with all the blood?"
"Blood?"
"Yes. And the lawn mower blade? Why a lawn mower blade?"
I was confused. What lawn mower blade? And blood?
"I...well...erm..."
"Yes, why does one of your main characters die from a spinning lawn mower blade?"
"Poetic justice? She hated mowing the lawn?" What had she read? Was this my book? I picked up the manuscript and flicked through the pages. I could believe it, I had written a zombie clone.
The "Weekday" Quickie #2 - Hail to the Chief!
(Write a poem about the President of the United States. Grey Matter, Mars, Insurance, Chunky Chocolate Chips and Guitars)
With tons of chunky chocolate chips and flashy sleek guitars,
And more grey matter and health insurance on the red planet of Mars,
The President of the United States sits and wonders at the stars,
At why his loving caring wife didn't buy more Hershey bars.