Strange First Dates, Part 3


Marta approaches Joel’s table and takes a seat. She places a piece of laminated paper on the table. Joel reads it aloud:

“Hi. My name is Marta. I’m not deaf, I just like starting off without speaking. What’s your name?”

Joel looks up at the woman across the table. “Oh. Um, my name is Joel.”

Marta flips the paper over to reveal another. This one has a picture of a cat.

“Is this your cat?”

Marta nods seriously.

“You like cats?”

Marta nods again and flips the page to one with a photo of a car.

“You like cars, too?”

Marta nods and flips to the next photo.

“And pancakes?” Joel asks.

Marta nods and grunts. She glances at him and turns to the next page. It’s a photo of Marta painting her nails blue.

“That’s nice nail polish. You like painting your nails?”

Marta shrugs. She lifts the page slowly and turns it over to reveal a picture of herself painting nails again. This time it’s a foot. A decidedly masculine foot. The nail polish is bright red.

“You… like painting… men’s toenails?”

Marta smiles for the first time and nods.


Strange First Dates, Part 2


Miffy sidles up to Joel’s table and slips into the chair opposite him. She places her elbows on the table, laces her hands together and rests her chin on her knuckles.

“Yes,” she says.

“Okay!” Joel smiles widely.

She stares into his eyes for an uncomfortable length of time but says nothing.

Joel rubs his chin and frowns. “What did I just agree to?”

“I’ll sleep with you,” Miffy says.

“Don’t you want to at least know my name?”

“It’s right there on your nametag, Joe.”

“Joelll,” he says, stressing the “L.” “My name is Joellll.”

“Okay, Joe.”

She runs her foot up his calf; he shifts so she can’t reach him.

“Look here, Miffy, I’m not that kind of guy.”

“Not your average Joe?”



Strange First Dates, Part 1


Fredericka sits at Joel’s table, places her hands in her lap and stares at the tablecloth.

“Hi,” says Joel. “This is my first time speed dating. How about you?”

“I’m Fredericka and my favourite things are daisies, pink-bricked houses with ivy and three chimneys, dogs, and the colour green.”

“Not pink?”

“What are your favourite things?”

“Um…” Joel sits back in his chair and scratches his head.

“Quick! Mama says a man who doesn’t know what he likes will never remember what I like!”

“Okay, cars, apartment buildings, horses, and the colour green.”

Fredericka looks up at Joel for the first time and smiles. “We were made for each other!”


Quest for a Good Life

I remember picking up the keys at the lawyer’s office, opening the front door, and walking in for the first time, my dog, Buster, at my side. I finally owned my own house. It was just going to be the two of us.

I had my mom look after the pup for a few days and I got my brother to help me move stuff in. My mom didn’t like the idea of me, a single woman, living alone, but it was what I wanted. I was strong enough to help my brother lift all the furniture, after all. And I had my hound.

I’d been living there for about a week before I started to get really annoyed with Buster. If he wasn’t outside trying to dig a hole under the shed, he was whining at the back door to get out there. Finally I got my brother to come over with a shovel and help me dig out whatever Buster was trying to get at.

And what do you know? Dead bodies.

So I had a choice. Contact the authorities and lose my house until they finished their investigation–it could be a year!–or drag the bodies out and rebury them so the dog couldn’t find them. I decided on the latter. Which would have been fine if they hadn’t come back to life.

Now my life is all zombies, all the time. They come in and raid my fridge in the middle of the night, I keep finding the occasional limb under my bed – Buster! – and every single morning as I’m getting in the car to go to work it’s, “Hey Julia! How ’bout them brains? When are we gonna get them yummy brains for dinner?”

All I wanted was a nice quiet life in my own house. Maybe Mom was right.

I’m lovin’ it, a 50 word story

“You tryin’ to sell me somethin’ boy? ‘Coz if you are, I got somethin’ to tell you: I ain’t buyin’. M’kay? I just ain’t buyin’ yo crap. I’mma tell you somethin’ else – I ain’t listenin’ to yo crap!”

“Errr… I just wanted to know if you’d like fries with that.”

Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story


So yesterday afternoon, I was surprised with this little gem:  THE Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story.  Being the team player I am, I decided right away to pick up the gauntlet and take it for a spin. Ever been for a spin on a gauntlet? Well there’s good news! If you’re part of Team Pepper, you’ll get your turn!! And if not, read it anyway – it’s shaping up to be a great story!

The rules:
1. Add a new post on your blog with these rules, the story so far, and who’s been tagged.
2. Title and tag the post as Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story.
3. Add at least two sentences to the story.
4. Pick another Pepper to tag (preferably one who hasn’t already been tagged).
5. Add a link to your chosen Pepper’s about page to the Tagged list below.

The story:
Edward walked into the hotel lobby just as the sun began to light up the city. He dragged a large, heavy trunk to the reception desk and rang the bell.

As he waited for someone to answer the bell, he tried to calm his breathing and wiped his sweaty brow with his coat sleeve. He heard a soft thud from the trunk and jerked his head towards it. His eyes had just a touch of fear in them as he listened for any other sounds. He never meant for things to go this far.

when the concierge emerged from the door behind the registration desk Edward stood up straight and tug on the lapel of his coat and says, “Er.” The concierge huffs and says, “Yes, may I help you?” Edward clears his voice and stutters out, “Mr. Maddox told me to deliver this trunk here for him.” Before the concierge could respond Edward abruptly turns and quickly runs out the door.

“What the…,” the concierge half-yelled as Edward cleared the doors and ran down the street of still-waking businesses.

The concierge, Randy, was now more than a little put out. First, he had been interrupted while playing Candy Crush at the end of a dull night on the desk. Now, he was having to deal with miscreants leaving junk in the lobby. He hoped his boss didn’t walk in at that moment and chew him out for it.

“Well,” Randy thought, “I guess I can prop my feet up on this at the desk.” He slowly, but carefully as not to ruin the flooring, started to drag the trunk into the office.

As Randy dragged the Victorian-era trunk with brown leather bound maple paneling and shiny brass studs nailed into the trim, he noticed that the weight wasn’t distributed evenly. Grunting when he tried to lift the heavy luggage over a snag in the office carpet, he finally maneuvered the large object into position. This would be perfect for resting his tired feet, so he plopped his posterior into the cushy high-backed chair and threw his feet up onto the light side of the trunk.

Still bitter about his Candy Crush high score run getting interrupted, he decided to pull up Plants Versus Zombies 2 instead. Circulation returning to his legs, he vowed silently that no zombies would eat his brains tonight. He’d seen “Walking Dead.” They weren’t getting him or his sunflowers. Maybe it was thinking about zombies, perhaps it was thinking about how immobile he was if the zombie apocalypse hit, it could have even been the soup he made for dinner, but something didn’t sit well with him.

And then he heard and felt a thud coming from inside the trunk.

He whipped his feet off the trunk so fast, one of his shoes went flying across the room, knocking over a coffee cup. Dregs oozed out from between the cracks of his boss’s favourite mug.

“Damn it!” Randy exclaimed momentarily forgetting the sounds from inside the container.  And then the screaming started.


Who is responsible for what has happened so far:
Fish of Gold
To Breathe is to Write
Silently Heard Once
Not A Punk Rocker
Amusing Nonsense
Inspiration in Progress

Over to you, Doobster! I know how much you love gauntlets! 😀