Friday, October 1, 2010
It's Wordzzle time again! This week I decided to do all three challenges, but the last one is perhaps my lamest attempt ever. Perhaps. At least I've finished the mini story. You can read the other two bits here and here.
Go to Raven's blog here to read the other stories – we have some excellent writers participating (and, you know, you too could be one of those writers – you know you want to, & it's addicting!)
Words for the mini: march, bald headed man, bones, photo album, mail box
Phyllis flipped through the photo album before she put it in a box. Why had she saved the picture of that bald headed man? At the time she thought he looked like Yul Brynner, but now she can't really see the resemblance. She needed to quit going through every blessed thing or she'd never finish packing. She put herself on autopilot – and then smiled as thoughts of her conversation with Bill started to march through her head. She'd told him that she'd been accepted to a graduate program in Massachusetts and that she'd be moving at the end of this month. And she'd tried to break up with him – knowing that the distance would drain all the life out of their relationship, just leaving bare bones. He had said she was being a dramatic ninny & unless she had some other reason to break up with him she was stuck with him. He figured there were jobs & bars with dart boards in Boston too. Ever since she had received the acceptance in her mail box she had agonized over leaving Cincinnati, and leaving Bill. Apparently her mother had been right after all – don't borrow trouble. Stop worrying and just maybe you'll have a pleasant surprise.
Words for the 10-word challenge: church, tongue in cheek, butterflies, charcoal, neurotic, save our schools, candles, solitaire, matches, chatter box
Karen tried to tamp down the butterflies in her stomach. Even though she had left her usual neurotic hour early she was running late. How was she to know that there'd be a "Save Our Schools" rally on Church Street? Now her charcoal gray suit had dark splotches under the armpits. Couldn't be helped – but the dampness wouldn't inspire confidence in her new clients. Oh lord what were their names? David & Janice? Brent & Sandra? Ken & Barbie? Her brain was such a chatter box that she wouldn't hear the answer even if she remembered it. "Calm down Karen, deep breaths, it'll come to you…" Oh yes – James and Theresa! Whew!
After spending the appropriate amount of time admiring Theresa's diamond solitaire, Karen got right down to business and spent the next hour talking about unity candles and whether or not boxes of matches with their names and the wedding date would be good favors. Karen mentioned having been at a wedding once where one of the flower arrangements on a table at the reception had caught fire. Perhaps, she suggested tongue in cheek, they should give away mini fire extinguishers instead. James and Theresa thought that was a grand idea, which left Karen with the job of searching for cute fire extinguishers in the bride's colors. Apparently her brain wasn't the only chatter box – she needed to muzzle her mouth too!
Words for the mega: church, tongue in cheek, butterflies, charcoal, neurotic, save our schools, candles, solitaire, matches, chatter box, march, bald headed man, bones, photo album, mail box
I am going to march right into that church and light a few candles for my mother. I don't care if I'm Catholic or not – it couldn't hurt. All right, where are the matches? I see the bones of a bunch of used matches, but not any fresh ones. Oh well, I'll just sit in a pew and pray. After a few minutes I notice that a bald headed man has interrupted my reverie. He had apparently noticed that I was playing one handed solitaire (shuffling is loud in church). With my usual irreverence, I make a tongue in cheek joke at my own expense. I can be quite a chatter box when I'm embarrassed. But before I can ask him where the matches are his charcoal eyes look deep into mine and he tells me to be quiet. I'm nervous about this, all my neurotic tendencies can be easily seen in my eyes – not just a window into my present soul, my eyes are a photo album, showing my past as well. What would he see in them? Finally, he speaks. "Save our schools! You should receive a flyer in your mail box, but you can work to save them now!" All my nervous butterflies disappear in a wave of hysterical laughter. All righty then – perhaps I'll just stick to the Baptist way of mourning the dead, which I think involves more chocolate and less fruitcake.