15 March 2014

15 March 2014

victoriansansalpha 760x100This one is dedicated to my fellow “Book Bandit”, James, who is preparing to depart on a solo trek up the California coast in a couple of weeks time.  He will be hiking from Orange County to the Golden Gate Bridge and anticipates it will take about 40 days.  He made the mistake of inferring he was going  to lash a a Barbie doll to his backpack.  Today, several of us had a little fun at his expense.  This was my skewer!  All in fun.

The prompts are:
1. She moved like a breeze
2. Now that’s funny
3. I’m not your problem

Begin Writing
After a week on the road I discovered Malibu Barbie had stowed away.
She wouldn’t go home and I couldn’t just leave her.
I decided to let her come along for the trip.

After ten days on the road I found, to my surprise, that
I like having her around.
I just wish she’d talk more.
It’s lonely out here.

When the wind comes up she moves with the breeze. So graceful.
After two weeks on the road I told her that I loved her.
I told her how much I enjoy dancing with her as we work our way up the coast.
“Now that’s funny,” she said, “keep walking.”

After three weeks on the road I begin to suspect that she is stealing food and putting something in my water, but I have no proof.
I resolve to watch her more carefully.

It’s been four weeks and that bitch is really getting on my nerves.
Constantly humming and singing that song. Over and over again.

She has a way about her. Power that I could never have imagined.
I believe she even controls the geography and the very road that we traverse.
She has made it all uphill. There is no respite from the climb.
I hate her. She has to go.

There is a high bridge in Big Sur.
I made good use of it
Her final plea was, “Wait James, I’m not your problem.”

It was peaceful in Monterey.
It was quiet in Moss Landing and I treated myself to lunch at Phil’s.
I waved to the hippies in Santa Cruz.

Sausalito, at last. There are doctors to meet me here and a friendly policeman.
The doctors tell me that they are going to take me somewhere to rest. They say I look like I could use a good, long rest.
The policeman asks only, “What did you do with Barbie?”

Time is up. Put down your writing implements and step away from the paper.

Daily Prompt: Pour Some Sugar on Me

Daily Prompt: Pour Some Sugar on Me

 What is your favorite sweet thing to eat? Bread pudding? Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies? A smooth and creamy piece of cheesecake? Tell us all about the anticipation and delight of eating your favorite dessert. Not into sweets? Tell us all about your weakness for that certain salty snack.


Hell on earth.  That’s where I was.  I knew it too.  I knew as soon as I walked into the house and heard them cackling in the kitchen.  Quickly I spun and reached for the door – too late.  It slammed and immediately I heard my mother, “David, honey, is that you? Come see who’s here.”

I didn’t have to go see.  I could hear them in there.  My mother’s sisters, my aunts; Beryl and Moncine had come to visit.

I knew I had to venture into the kitchen.  I didn’t want to.  I wanted to turn on the TV and watch Sea Hunt or Flipper.  I wanted to go back outside.  I wanted to hide under the bed but, I summoned up all my courage, stood as tall as I could and shuffled into the fiery depths of hell.

When I got to the kitchen, my aunt Moncine was leaning into the refrigerator, her oversized derrière pointed directly at me, Beryl was standing by the stove with a cup of coffee and a huge smile stretched across her skeletal visage.  My mother was leaning against the sink, a cigarette clutched in her talons, beaming at me.  Everything slipped into slow motion. My aunts heads slowly got big then small, then big again as they leaned in on me pinching my cheeks, tousling my hair, and slapping wet kisses all over my face.  It was horrible.

Silently, I screamed trying to send a telepathic message, “Help me Mom, protect me!” But, she encouraged them laughing the entire time.

I heard her telling them about my achievements at school: student council, art club, youth choir.  It was all a blur.

“David’s Social Studies report was selected to be hung on the wall in the cafeteria at school.” Cackle cackle.

“Look how big he’s gotten.” Caw caw, Nevermore!

“A real little man.” Bwah ha ha ha.

“Come here honey and give your Aunt Beryl a big hug.”

“Boil, bubble; toil, trouble.”

Then they delivered the coup-de-gras.

“Isn’t he sweet?  I could just eat him up!”

I dropped my school books and ran.


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