“Oh for God’s sake, Cheryl, what’s wrong now?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong’?”
“You have that look on your face.”
“The ’till my dying day’ look.”
“Well if you must know, I’m not pleased with your choice for lunch today.”
“You like diners, I thought you would like Buster Browns.”
“Look at this coffee, Ethel, look what happened to my coffee?”
“Oh. Well, that’s one reason I take mine black.”
“You don’t drink coffee, Ethel, you drink tea.”
“Yes, but you don’t see me adding any cream, do you? Just ask for another cup and some fresher cream.”
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This week’s prompts are: 1) What happened to my coffee? 2) Buster Browns 3) till my dying day
I decided to try to use all three this time and here is what I got in 25 mins or less, as directed by tnkerr.
“Hey, what’s continuity mean?”
“I dunno, why?”
“Crossword clue, four letters.”
“You got any?”
“Yeah, starts with a eff.”
“Lemme see. Okay, forty-nine down’s below, so it ends with a doubleyou.”
¿ ? ¿ ? ¿ ? ¿ ?
Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT? Write a story or poem with just 35 words, no more no less, and send it to Sammi Cox.
Oh for God’s sake, Susan!!! That’s what I was going to do with the word ‘muddle’!
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What happens when one of your favorite writers steals your idea? Just post her story on your blog, that’s what! You can see ‘Muddled to Perfection’ and her other stories and poems here… The Abject Muse
Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT? Write a story or poem with just 16 words, no more no less, and send it to Sammi Cox.
Here is a story I wrote in 2012 when I was fairly new to blogging and attempting to be a writer. I was trying to write a Haiku, it was fun, but the story behind it was more fun to write. I bring it back every year in case you have not read it… St. Paddy’s Tacos
“Your assignment this week is to write two hundred words on Miriam Ortiz Uribe.”
“Jonny, you know it’s ‘who is that’, and that is also part of the assignment to figure out ‘who dat’ is.”
“See, you did it!”
“That was an illustration on what not to do.”
“Not to figure out who Miriam Ortiz Uribe is?”
“No, you have to do that, just don’t say ‘Dat’!”
“Is it okay to use Google?” This from Mary Jane.
“Of course it’s okay to Google, how else are you going to know about Miriam Ortiz Uribe?”
“You don’t let us use our phones in class.”
“Do it when you get home! Oh God I don’t care, do it now!!”
A flurry of cell phones light up across the room.
“I know! It’s a woman.”
“She’s works at a radio station.”
“A disc jockey?”
“No you idiot, a reporter.”
“I like her hair.”
“Where’s New Hampshire?”
“It’s not Miriam, it’s Monica”
“Okay stop! Maybe I was wrong, it is Monica, please explore further, learn her history and the work that she does over the weekend and turn in your paper on Monday. Two hundred words at least.
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I hope you liked my two hundred words on Miriam Ortiz Uribe, oops it’s Monica. Your assignment is to learn more about her too. I will save you having to Google… Monica Ortiz Uribe.
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One of the prompts this week was… Miriam Ortiz Uribe … I still don’t know who that is.
Bobby and Little Sally are playing in the backyard, it’s been raining something terrible for a week now and this was the first sunny day.
“🎶Ring around the rosy,
A pocket full of posies,
We all fall down! 🎶”
“Sally!!! You didn’t fall down!.”
“I don’t wanna get my dress dirty, Bobby. No one says you have to fall down.”
Enter Mother, who puts something in the birdbath as Bobby and Little Sally start going in a circle agin.
🎶Ring around the… Mother! What’s that water doing there?”
“The sun is finally out, my new Solar Garden Fountain™!”
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Little Sally thought you might like to see Mother’s new birdbath fountain, so she took a photo for you with her new camera.
When I saw this photo of the fountain, by C. E. Ayr , I immediately thought of a photo I have of my father and his siblings gathered around a pond in their backyard in the 30’s. Like everyone else at that time they did not have a ‘pot to piss in’, but they did have a large garden where they grew food and shared with the neighbors. My father is the big one, Emily to his right and Bill, Laura and Gary to the left. There were goldfish in the pond and they are posing for Pops, I imagine.
I have one other photo, I would like to think it was a fountain, with my Uncle Gary, the youngest, maybe he played Ring Around the Rosy with Emily.
Friday Fictioneers’ Stories Here:
“Billy done what?”
“Billy done what?”
“I dunno, forgot.”
I told Chelsea Owens I couldn’t do it, but she said to try anyway. In case you were wondering if this contest is a real thing, it is, as this is #62. The photo is by abdelkader ft
One afternoon when I was 16 we went to a burlesque house called the Alameda. Three punk high school kids with fake IDs; the big deal was to try to get in the Alameda back then. We were scared shitless we would get caught, they didn’t care just took our money. This was in the late 50’s; it was an old theater that had seen better days, the kind with a little ticket booth out front. Everyone in there was smoking, so you watched the show through a haze highlighted by the stage lights. There was a three-piece band, as I recall, or at least a drummer. We watched some women glide around onstage and swing their breasts to make their tassels twirl. Just didn’t see what the big deal was, so after a few dancers we left. But, we had bragging rights.
I would love to say I saw Tempest Storm, but I didn’t. One thing is certain, I will never forget that experience.
I should tell you about the Moonlight Ranch sometime.
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One of the prompts this week was… smoky stage lights… That made me think of this story.
The Alameda Theatre opened as the Nippon Theatre in 1907 and sat 450. The theatre closed in 1960 during the redevelopment boom in Sacramento. And, Tempest Storm did play there.
Mother’s putting a pie into the oven. Little Sally enters…
“Mother, what big eyes you have.”
“I think it’s grandmother what big eyes you have, Sally.”
“I’m not red riding hood, silly. I mean you, you had big eyes.”
“What are you talking about? And don’t call me silly.”
Little Sally holds out a photograph. Mother stares at the photograph.
“Mommy, why are you crying?”
“Where did you find this, Sally?”
“Sticking out of a poem book grandma has. What kinda picture is that?”
“It’s called a polaroid. First time I met your father, I’m looking at him.”
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The Sunday Muse is weekly photo prompt site for writers, poets, and blogging enthusiasts. Our goal is to keep you inspired and keep you writing.
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I was reading Björn Rudberg’s blog and saw his story, Hardwood Floor, an excellent piece of science fiction. I had not seen The Sunday Muse prompts before and this photo mesmerized me, I had to write a story. Not sure what to do, is it right for Little Sally or maybe Ethel & Cheryl? I thought of Ethel buying a print of one of Margaret Keane’s children and Cheryl being a bitch about it, dismissed that, and from big eyes I had a story. Let me know what you think if you have followed LS. Is there more than meets the eye in this story?
“Hi Cheryl. I’m going to make meatballs, do you have a good recipe.”
“Are you kidding me, I’ve never made meatballs. Ask Mama Margie, she’s a real Italian, from Staten Island.”
“I thought Italians came from Italy.”
“Oh for God’s sake Ethel, they can come from anywhere as long as their relatives started in Italy.”
“Well Betty said she was a good cook, do you have her number?”
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“Hello, is this Margie? This is Ethel, a friend of Betty’s. I want to make meatballs and she said you were a real Italian cook.”
“I think I can help you, Ethel.”
Can you imagine Ethel cooking? I’m not sure I can, but that’s my 100 word story and I’m sticking to it. Friday Fictioneers is all about 100 Word Flash Fiction…
Here is where to find Friday Fictioneers and read leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
The photo prompt today is by Roger Bultot… It will be interesting to see the stories, I’ve already read a few good ones, click that frog to read them…
Here is my story, I was making meatballs last night to go with some spaghetti. There really is a Mama Margie, she gave me a baked ziti recipe once. She is a real Italian from Staten Island, but now cooks in the Show Me State.
I forgot to take a photo of the meat balls right out of the oven, but here they are on a plate with Arrabbiata sauced spaghetti, my favorite sauce. I will have to ask Margie if she has a recipe for Arrabbiata, but she would call it gravy, she is a real Italian after all. My sister Mariya, not an Italian but an Organic-an, steamed radishes, burdock root and broccoli to go with.