humour

Stylish

“What, in the hell, are you wearing?”

Ginny looked down at herself and back up to her BFF, Miffy. “I know. My mom made me put it on for picture day. She thinks it’s ‘stylish’. Can you believe it?”

“We HAVE to get you out of that… thing. What is it anyway? Overalls with a skirt? Your gym clothes would be better.”

“It’s a ‘pinafore.'”

“UGH!”

“I know! She did give me this to put on over it, if I really wanted to.”

“What is THAT?”

“A cardigan.”

“Oh. My. God. Ginny. You’ve got to go home and change.”

“I can’t. My mom will kill me?”

“How would she know?”

“I don’t know. But she will. I just know it.”

Hike, Part 2 – Silence

Read part 1 here first.

George sat on his rock well past twilight and into night time, but Rod Serling didn’t show up, despite what his brother, Rob, had said. The silence was heavy, the lack of insect voices or small animals shuffling about in the underbrush was unnerving. George felt like he was the only person left on earth. Perhaps he was.

He got off his rock and sat on the ground with it at his back. Eventually he dozed off. By the time he awoke, to a tapping on his shoulder, his neck ached, his rear-end was numb, and the sky had turned a deep indigo.

“George!” said a voice. George opened his eyes and saw it was Rob.

“What are you doing back? And why didn’t your brother show up?”

Rob shrugged. “Maybe because he’s dead?”

“As good an excuse as any, I guess. Hey, do you know the way back to town? I think I’m a bit lost.”

“Why didn’t you ask last night? I just came from there. Not planning to go back.” Rob looked up. “Oh hey, there’s Rod now.”

Rod Serling, or the ghost of Rod Serling, crawled out from behind the rock and sat beside George.

“George,” Rod said, “have you ever considered that bump on your head from yesterday might have made it unwise to go to sleep?”

“I’m beginning to think so,” answered George. “Am I dead?”

Rob spoke up, “Is this the new show, Rod?”

“Rob, it’s what we call, the Dawning Zone.”

Flowers

“Why doesn’t she want a pot of flowers? They ‘cheer up the kitchen’ just as much as a long-stemmed rose that will die in a week.”

“Don’t ask me, man. Women are crazy. Hey, did you see that guy burn out at that intersection back there? So cool.”

“Pfft. Yeah. My wife doesn’t like it when I do that. Says it’s a waste of tires.”

“Haha. That’s women for you.”

Pler-plerpex … perpul…

“So, I gotta… I gotta say. I’m juss not happy.”

“Want another beer?”

“Ssurrre. Thanks, Buddy.”

“No prob.”

“Hic!”

“So you’re sayin’ you’re not happy. I can understann.”

“You can? ‘Coz I can’t. I don’ know how she coulda done it. How could she mess ’round on me?”

“I dunno, Bud. I mean look at ya. You’re a good-lookin’ guy.”

“I know, righ’? I’m juss plerpex… plerplex… plerplexed.”

“I think you mean perpulx…pexed. Perpexed.”

“Perpexed? Nah, it’s plerplexed.”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, I’m convused.”

***

The word of the day at The Daily Post is pler… plerpex… perplexed.

The Chronicles of Mary, Part 9

Mary was good at her new job in the kitchen of her former accounting firm boss’s country club. Not only that, she enjoyed going to work every day for the first time in her life. At least up until the incident.

Right from the time she learned how to use a knife as a little girl, Mary’s enthusiasm sometimes got the better of her. She perfected chopping at a very early age, much to the terror of her mother, who couldn’t keep her away from the cutlery. And so it was that Mary believed she was genuinely helping when she decided to teach the teen volunteer how to slice a carrot in under fifteen seconds.

After that, Mary was reassigned to washing dishes.

***

At A Story A Day today, we were to write our protagonist’s flaw.

Cake

Baking a cake for the twins’ bake sale at school should have been easy. Thousands of moms did it every year. At least that’s what Winnifred told herself as she threw the cake mix into the grocery basket along with orange juice, yogurt, and the cookies she suddenly had a craving for. Cravings were a stress thing she was very familiar with.

Her first clue that things weren’t going to go as planned should have been the fact that there was no money in her account when she tried to cash out with her debit card. The money should have been there – she’d just been to the bank to make a deposit. So she dug in her purse for cash to pay for her groceries and then went straight back to the bank. As it turned out, someone had stolen her PIN number. She filled out a bunch of forms and got a new bank card, and the bank reassured Winnifred that she would get her money back within the next few days. So off she went home.

Winnifred read the instructions carefully. She preheated the oven and added the exact amount of water and eggs to the mix that the recipe on the side of the box called for. But when it came time to pour the batter into the pan, she realized she had no pan. Of course she didn’t – she wasn’t the sort of mom who baked. So off she went to the store again. This time, she had to really scrape the bottom of her purse for change, since she forgot that she had no money in her bank account.

Finally, Winnifred got home and managed to bake the cake. The kids got off the bus and came clamoring through the door just as she was finishing off the icing.

“There!” she said to her twin girls. She turned the cake for them to admire her work. “You can take this to school tomorrow.”

“But Mom,” one of the twins said, “the bake sale was today.”

That night, Winnifred enjoyed cake with her cookies.

***
This story was prompted by a Story A Day, where our prompt for today was “when your character is like you.” I hate baking!! 😀

Expert

There are a few things I’m very good at, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert at anything. For instance, I can fly a helicopter and rescue people from the ocean, I can paint a landscape and sell it for six figures, and I can stand on stage and sing to crowds of thousands.

You can see for yourself, I’m good. I think not calling myself an expert at anything is what makes me so humble.

Obvious, Part 2

“Oh look, here comes a witness. You were behind me at the intersection. What do you think? Was it obvious I was going to pull out?”

“Obvious you were going to pull out? What the hell are you talking about? Before you did move forward, you backed into me!”

“See? I told you. We collided because I had no idea what you intended to do. You, Sir, are up the river without a paddle.”

“It’s up the creek, shithead.”

“Indeed.”

Obvious

“I think it was obvious I was going to pull out into the intersection.”

“I disagree.”

“Is that all you can say? You ‘disagree’?”

“Indeed it is. If it had been obvious you were going to pull out, we wouldn’t have collided.”

“Wouldn’t have collided. Wouldn’t have collided.”

“Why are you making fun of me?”

“Because we didn’t collide. YOU hit ME.”

“We should just wait for the police to get here.”

“Why? Why can’t we just exchange insurance information and go about our lives?”

“Because what you believe is obvious, isn’t. And besides. I think you’re drunk.”

“If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be standing here waiting for the cops. Would I, smartie pants?”

“Well at least we agree on one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m smarter than you are.”

“That’s not… Oh fuck it.”

Romance – The Learning Curve (Fiction)

In romance, there is a learning curve we all must traverse.

First kiss may seem like the ultimate in excitement, until it happens and we find ourselves liplocked with a drooling boy, with something hard shoved down his pants.

That first alien experience when we girls discover what that hard thing feels like directly. It drools also, much to our amazement.

The first time we let him fumble around – who knew bra straps were such a mystery?

And then, when we finally let him go all the way. For me that was to be with the altar behind us. Our wedding day was exhausting, with an evening spent socializing with everyone but him. I was nervous, naturally. Mostly because, despite the fact that all my romantic experiences up ’til then had not been what I expected, I had dreamed this moment would be perfection. Just like all the romance novels I’d read, where the heroine is worshiped by her man. Things always go so smoothly, don’t they?

I suppose my first mistake was thinking that a limo was a good idea, so he would be free to drink and not have to drive back to our hotel. Suffice to say my learning curve is complete: bra straps are even more a mystery, floors are hard, and drooling and snoring also go together.

This virgin bride will try not to step on him when I get up in the morning.