Picture Prompt #17: The “Plus One” Choice


Your gig line’s not straight darlin’.
The shine on those boondockers is non-existent and, it’s right over left all the way up, understood?
Where’s your cover?
Hair should be high and tight!
I want you to fall out and go square yourself away. Report back to me in half an hour’s time.
First drop and give me twenty.
If your gonna be in MY Army then your gonna play by MY rules.



The Ballad of Penny Rabbit

Alexander Rabbit ducked down the hole and into his mother’s kitchen.

“Look what I got Momma,” he said holding the carrot up so that she could see.

Momma Rabbit looked at her boy. He was holding a large carrot over his head. It was bigger than he was.

Momma put her hand to her breast, her ears popped straight up, and her eyes got wide as saucers, “My god, Alex,” she exclaimed, “where did you get that?”

“Mr. McGregor and another guy dropped it in the clearing. They had lots of them Momma. Lots of them.”

“Where’s McGregor now?”

“Gone Momma; they’re both gone. They took the carrots too, but I got this one.”

“Well wash up, rinse that carrot off real good, and chop it into the stew pot. Then call your sister for dinner.”

Alexander’s shoulders slumped and his ears drooped, just a bit, when she mentioned his sister, “About Penny, Momma.”

“What about Penny, Alex?” his momma asked, “What about Penny, huh?”

Momma could sense bad news coming.

“Uhm, I hate to be the one to have to tell you Momma but; well, Penny…”

“What is it Alex? Tell me please.”

Alex watched helplessly as his mother’s face sagged and her apron began to wrinkle. He saw the tears filling her eyes as she sat down at the kitchen table. He knew that he had to be strong when he broke the news to his mother. She would need him to lean on.

“Penny… Well Penny, she sorta ran off with that hawk. The tough looking one who lives over by the old tree – the lightning struck tree ’bout due east of here.”

Momma Rabbit began doing that thing she does sometimes when she craves attention; flailing her arms about as if she couldn’t see, clearly flustered and confused.

“What are you talking about Alex? He took her?”

“Yes’m he did Momma. Penny told me it was going to happen when we were talking, last night. They’re going to Las Vegas to get married. Eloping.”

Alex fished his pocket square out and handed it to his momma. She dabbed her leaky eyes and blew her nose before she crumpled his kerchief in her hand and stared at her son.

“That’s not all Momma,” Alexander said softly. “You’re going to be a grandmother.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, “A grandma? Me?”

I’m really excited about this one! I had a lot of fun writing it and apparently it was fun to read as well. Thanks!


Wayward Wednesday: Humor Me

This post was originally published in February of 2014 in answer to a WordPress Daily Prompt challenge that asked:
“When was the last time you were embarrassed? How do you react to embarrassment?”


The loud staccato pounding on the door made me jump.  “Aren’t you ready yet honey?” Marie hollered from the other side.  “We’re gonna be late.”

“Almost, I need a couple more minutes”

“Jesus,” she mumbled “Men… can’t live with ‘em can’t live without ‘em.”  I heard her retreat back towards the kitchen.

I put the finishing touches of red face paint around my eyes and checked the mirror.  It was flawless. I really did look like a tomato.  I had worked for weeks making the papier-mâché costume and planning the makeup and it looks like I hit it out of the park.  I was a perfect Roma Tomato. I knew I was going to win the prize for best costume at the Halloween party.

I pulled the door open and got wedged in the frame when I tried to go through.  I backed up turned sideways and tried again.  Still no good.  “Marie, honey, can you give me a hand here?” I yelled down the hall.

“Great costume” she grinned.  “You make a hot tomato!”

“Your lettuce dress is ravishing” I replied, “but I’m stuck.  I can’t get through this door.”

“Can you take off the costume, and put it back on in the hall? I think this door is the only one that will cause any problems.”

“Yeah, I guess.  You will have to help me reposition it when I put it back on though.”

I carefully removed the costume.  There was nothing underneath except red boxers.

We carried the two parts of the costume into the kitchen and I started worrying with the pieces getting ready to put it back on.  I felt her hand on my rear end. “You look kinda cute with those red panties.” She said.

“These are boxers, not panties.  Panties are what girls wear.  Men don’t wear panties.” I said, she was always challenging my masculinity.

“I’m not wearing panties either” she leered, “I’m wearing lettuce. Are you interested in makin’ a salad?”

“I thought you were worried about being late.”

The back door swung open and in waltzed Mom, dressed like a vampire.  She got a little flustered, “Oh, my – excuse me – I’ll, I’ll wait in the yard.”  Her face flushed as she backed out the door.

I looked at Marie.  She was a bit red herself.

And me?  I looked like a tomato.  A tomato with his boxers around his ankles and a lettuce leaf in each hand.


I posted another one last year for a YeahWrite Challenge about a fox. That one got a lot of attention too.

Link to



Word Association: DJ Radish Smorgasbord



We spent a week that summer visiting my Mom’s sister,
Aunt Martha,
and her husband Ben. We got to their house in Austin on Monday afternoon.
They welcomed us with open arms.
Aunt Martha was calling herself Virgie and was tragically hip, spending a lot of time in the parlor teaching herself to scratch and scrub; tearing up the styluses on the twin’s record players.
She encouraged us to tell her jokes
and, promised to steal them.
But only the good ones.

She had been married to Uncle Ben for 15 years.
He was a bald headed accountant, tall and round;
busy at tax-time.
Always supportive of his wife’s creative endeavors, he loved her unconditionally,
and confided to my sister, on that Tuesday, that he was glad Aunt Martha was no longer into ceramics. He opened what used to be the linen closet and showed her three shelves filled with ash trays, “No one here smokes,” he intoned in his deadpan accountant voice.
He listened to a lot of Grandmaster Flash albums from the 80’s so that he and Virgie could talk about things Hip Hop.

Ben had a really big guard dog named Fluffy.
Fluffy looked a lot like a 300 pound lion, had the run of the yard; and adored both Uncle Ben and Virgie.
When they introduced us to Fluffy; Virgie cautioned against kneeling near the pool lest fluffy mistake you for prey.
“He probably won’t kill you,” Uncle Ben warned, “but he sure as hell will push you into the pool!”
Virgie laughed and gave her husband a peck on the lips to show her appreciation of that bit of humor. My sister resolved right then that she would not come into the backyard again.
Not even to swim on those hot Texas afternoons.
She forgot by Wednesday though when she got into a water balloon fight with the twins
and we ate barbecued hamburgers and homemade potato salad at the picnic table on the pool deck.

I remember that we laughed a lot that week. My mom and dad smiled the entire week. They seemed relaxed and twice they disappeared into the back of the house for about an hour at a time.
In the middle of the day.

When the twins weren’t dancing to their mom’s music or exchanging stories with Uncle Ben they were more than happy to play Risk,
or Jacks,
or Hopscotch,
but not basketball.
Bernadette wanted to teach me to play poker but Bernard put the kibosh on that.
“I’ll let him keep his underwear on,” she complained to no avail.

I think that was the week I learned about happiness.
That was the week I learned about family and sharing.
That was the week I learned what love looks like.


Picture Prompt #12: Art & Plastic Surgery – Revisited

I was playing with “The Book Bandits” today. The prompts were:

1. The photo from the referenced TBP posting and shown at the bottom of this page.
2. “Science Fiction Haiku”


First, I wrote haiku


angry colonists
mutinied when it was learned
Mars was non smoking


Then I just couldn’t leave well enough alone –

Melinda was talking when she stepped onto the stage and people soon began to pay attention to what she was saying, “Someone shoulda told us,” she said forcibly to the assembly when she knew she had their attention.

Voices from the mob rose in crescendos as they yelled back to her in agreement.

“Damn right” someone screamed from the back of the crowd.

“Fuckin’ A,” shouted a man in a flannel shirt near the front.

She spurred them on, “We woulda quit before we set out, and never packed all those cigarettes. Just think how much more tequila we could have brought if we hadn’t been packing a lifetime supply of Lucky Strikes and Marlboro Lights.”

The agrarians, among them began to raise their pitchforks and shake them overhead as they yelled in agreement.

The cooks lit torches off the burners on their stoves and the smoke rolled heavily into the dense Martian atmosphere.

“Who’s responsible?” Melinda yelled over the crowd, which by now was getting rambunctious, “The Captain? The XO?”

As one the angry group of colonists yelled back to her, “they all are – Death to the tyrants and militant non-smokers.”

Melinda stepped back from the front of the dais and held her unlit Kool in a smoker’s pose. She watched the frenzy grow and waited for the riot. Her work here was done. Inertia would take care of the rest.


Photo Courtesy of The Blog Propellant
Photo Courtesy of The Blog Propellant



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