St. Paddy’s Tacos

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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

Who Dat?

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“Your assignment this week is to write two hundred words on Miriam Ortiz Uribe.”
“Who dat?”
“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?”
“Babe alert!”
“What’s NPR?”
“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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P6060014.JPG – Version 2   OLWG #146

One of the prompts this week was… Miriam Ortiz Uribe  … I still don’t know who that is.

Little Sally Gets a Surprise

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© C. E. Ayr

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,
Ashes! Ashes!
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.

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FRIDAY FICTIONEERS 13 MARCH 2020

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. 

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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. 

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Friday Fictioneers’ Stories Here:

 

 

 

 

“Billy Dunnit”

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“Billy dunnit.”
“Billy done what?”
“Billy dunnit.”
“Billy done what?”
“I dunno, forgot.”

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 3/7 – 3/13/2020

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

 

 

The Alameda… OLWG #145

 

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Sacramento Bee Ad July 7 1955

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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OLWG #145

One of the prompts this week was… smoky stage lights… That made me think of this story.

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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, what big eyes you have…

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“Eyes Without a Face” by Digital Collage Artist Robin Isely

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.

“Oh, Sally!”

“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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Sunday Muse # 98

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?

Mama Margie… a real Italian

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“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.”

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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…

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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.

 

 

 

SNOOTY… One Word Challenge

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“Sally, when you are done I want you to put those crayolas back in the box and onto the shelf. I won’t pick up after you today, young lady,” said Mother.

“Put those crayolas away, young lady. Okay snooty,” whispered Little Sally.

“What did you say?”

“I said I will be happy to put the crayons away. They’re called crayons.”

“That’s not what it sounded like to me, did you call me snooty?”

“They were croylas in our day, little miss,” from Grandmother.

“Whatever, it’ll be my duty to put the crayolas away then.”

“You are on such thin ice.”

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 Fandango’s One-Word Challenge    Today’s word is “snooty.”

“Of Course Not, Silly”… Revisited

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This is the prompt for PhotoChallenge #305. When I saw it I was overcome with a great sadness and I knew I wanted to write a story. But, no story came to me. I tried, but it wasn’t right for Little Sally or Ethel & Cheryl who seem to have obsessed me lately. I was at a loss and then realized why… I had already written a mannequin story for Suzanne Purkis the editor of the Speakeasy at YeahWrite. It was for a writing contest, and I won that week. That story is one of my favorites, it’s on my past favorites page, I just couldn’t think. So rather than try to write a new mannequin story I’ll just tell you my old one…

 

Speakeasy#162  “OF COURSE NOT, SILLY!”

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“OF COURSE NOT, SILLY!”

“Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes.” Her last words. She has been in a catatonic state since that day.

Elizabeth Grace had been a promising designer, and her sudden decline had been most disturbing to friends and colleagues.

After graduation, she had taken a position at Albrecht’s Department Store, as an assistant window dresser. She fared well under the tutelage of Miss Bethany, and advanced to first assistant in just months. Feathers had been ruffled.

It was just after Albrecht’s shipment of new mannequins arrived that it began. Elizabeth started talking to the old ones. People noticed. She had not done that before.

Hammered by younger hipper stores and internet shopping, Albrecht’s Department Store had been in decline for years, something had to be done. When Oswalt Albrecht III came on board, all department heads had been instructed to find new ways to bring in shoppers, or look elsewhere for employment. In Display, it was Elizabeth who suggested that changing to more stylish models would certainly bring in younger shoppers. “After all”, she said “they have been here since my grandmother was a child. Besides, they’re falling apart. I had to use one of the men’s hands on a lady, to hold her purse.” Oswalt III thought that was a great idea and authorized a sizable expenditure. Miss Bethany was pleased she would keep her job, and put Elizabeth in charge of all floor displays.

Oswalt III loved the look of the new mannequins, with their sleek unstaring faces, but could not bear to part with the old ones. “Save the old ones. I feel I know each one personally, and could not bear to see them go.” Oswalt II had grown up with them too, but was more pragmatic, since storage space was limited. “Save two dummies and all the heads.” So, the display heads were lined up on top shelves around the workroom, and the two old mannequins set in a nostalgic display.  A different set of feathers had been ruffled.

Elizabeth took her new position seriously, and could be found working late most nights. Displays were constantly being changed and mannequins dressed and redressed. No one could remember when the voices had started, but sometimes it seemed a violent argument could be heard coming from the display office. When one peeked their head in the door, only Elizabeth would be found, deep in concentration at some task. Miss Bethany was thrilled that Elizabeth had taken charge, it had made her life so much easier. When the voices started, she became concerned. The girls had always named the dummies, and she could only imagine how many different names those old mannequins must have had over the years. Even old Oswalt had his favorites, and called some of them by name. But Elizabeth had taken the relationship to a new level. Miss Bethany knew she talked to them, and swore she had heard them being asked for their advice. But try as hard as she might, she could not catch her. When she asked point-blank, Elizabeth smiled and said “Of course not, Silly!” Miss Bethany had never been called silly, but was not going to press the point, since she had been given a raise and was smart enough to know how she got it.  She also was not going to criticize the condition of the work room, which had gotten seemingly messier.

Suzanne in Children’s was the first to notice. Little things at first. A sweater here or skirt there askew on a dummy. Made right, it would be back that way the next day, exactly the same way. Then the switching started. Suzanne asked Mr. Silverleaf, in Men’s, if he had noticed anything strange, he said “Well I wasn’t going to say anything, but if you have seen it too.” They went over to Teen’s and checked with Jessica. Jessica suggested they talk to security, as it had to be happening at night. Mr. Kumar was not aware of any strange goings on, but agreed to have the night guy keep an eye on the displays.

When the mannequins in the windows started losing their clothes the whole store was on alert.  And then, the positions of the dummies started changing.

It was Eric who found her. The workroom was in shambles with heads strewn everywhere, their eyes pried out. Elizabeth was in the center staring down, her body shaking, calling their names.

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http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/fiction-challenge-badges-162/

The Challenge is by Editor Suzanne at Apoplectic Apostrophes: “This week’s sentence prompt, provided by last week’s winner, Bethany, must be used as the FIRST line in your piece.  Reference must also be made to the media prompt, a painting by Albrecht Dürer… Portrait of Oswalt Krel, who was a merchant for the Ravensburg House in Nuremberg from 1495 to 1503.”

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To read other stories on this week’s prompt, go to… THE SPEAKEASY

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Well, I am in shock…

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2020

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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie ~ Photo Challenge #305

I hope you like my story as much as I do and I don’t get kicked out of the Menagerie for submitting an old story… Ted

 

 

Little Sally sings The King

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🎶“Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love” 🎶

“Sally, stop it!”

🎶“Just a… “🎶

“Stop it now!!! Do you even know what you’re singing? Mother are you playing records for Sally again?”

“Sure I know, it’s the king.”

“Elvis, yes. But do you know what a hunk of burning love is?”

“No but I like to sing it, and grandma said that’s what he was.”

“Well he sure was that. Please, try to learn some more verses.”

Little Sally went looking for Grandma.

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Free Verse Revolution

Kristiana Reed is a writer and English Teacher and likes to prompt writers. Burning is her March Writing Prompt #1. I thought of Little Sally when I saw it, and her she is in 100 words of flash fiction.

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The first record I ever bought was a 45 rpm of Hound Dog. I had just been given a record player, and went to Tower Records, before it became Tower Records, and got it. I had been listening to it on the radio and like everyone else, well maybe not Ed Sullivan, loved Elvis Presley. My father told me to turn it down and go get some more records, I was 13.

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