Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Daily Prompt; Nightmare

Daily Prompt; Nightmare



Marisol was having second thoughts. She was getting worried about agreeing to this blind date her cousin, Annika, had arranged. This might really be a nightmare!

Annika really wanted to go out with Travis and Travis had scarcely believed it when she agreed to go to the dance with him, but Travis had to take his cousin along. Travis’ mother had decided that Travis’ cousin Johnny, who was new in town, needed to get out  and meet people, this was her way of making it happen. Travis had asked Annika to the dance and explained the problem. It was Annika who had suggested that Marisol might be convinced to go on a blind date with Johnny.

Nobody knew what Johnny looked like. He had just moved to town, after all. He hadn’t even started at the new school yet.

When Travis, Annika, and Johnny pulled up in front of her house Marisol struggled to take a look at her date from the window but it was impossible, she couldn’t see him. Too much reflection on the car window glass. Annika ran up to the front door and crashed through the way she always did.

“Mari,” she called. “Come on, we don’t want to keep the boys waiting!” she spotted her auntie, Marisol’s mom, through the opening to the kitchen. “Hi, Aunt Donna,” she called.

“Hi Annie,” she looked at her niece and shook her head, “Does your mother know how you’re dressed? That skirt is sooooooo short!”

“Please don’t tell on me, Aunt Donna,” Annika implored.

“Go on,” Donna said, “you girls have fun, but be careful.” The girls went out the front door and walked quite elegantly and unhurriedly down to the curb.

“Johnny’s pretty nervous about meeting you,” Annika told her as they moved down the sidewalk. When they got to the curb, Annika opened the passenger side door of Travis’ mother’s Ford Taurus.

Marisol leaned down, “Hi Travis,” she said.

“Hey, Mari,” he answered back, “this is my cousin, Johnny.” Marisol swiveled her head towards the back seat to take a first look at her date.

Johnny was certainly dressed for a dance. He wore bright green trousers, with a white button down shirt. A red and green plaid sport coat with sleeves that were just ‘that much’ too short topped it off and the entire outfit was accented with a blue and black Swiss dot bow tie. He wore thick black plastic framed spectacles that he kept pushing up on his nose, and had a zit on his chin that resembled an angry volcano.

Marisol smiled, stood up where the boys couldn’t see her face and shot dagger eyes at her cousin. Then she pulled open the back door and with a sigh, climbed into the back seat with Johnny.

She sat in a chair next to Johnny, in the gym for the entire dance. He talked to her, they didn’t dance. He told her stories, they talked about music and movies. They talked about books that they both had read and enjoyed. He laughed like a donkey. Marisol realized she was having a great time. Annika and Travis disappeared and when the dance was over they were nowhere to be found. Johnny offered to walk her home and they talked the whole way. She told him some of her stupid jokes and he actually laughed. He told her jokes and she laughed. She even snorted a few times and wasn’t embarrassed when she did so.

When they got to her house he shook her hand, “I really enjoyed meeting you,” he said. “I hope I can see you again.” She rifled through her bag and found a Sharpie that she used to write her phone number on the back of his hand.

“Call me tomorrow,” she ordered.

He snorted, “Really?”

“Please,” she said. “How are you going to get home?” she asked him.

“I’ll walk.”

“No,” she said, “wait here.” She ran inside and when she came back out her mom was with her, she looked a little sleepy and was jangling her car keys.

“Me and Mom will give you a ride.” Marisol told him.

“Mom and I,” Johnny corrected her.

“Yeah, right.”

Mom took the driver’s seat and Marisol sat in the back with Johnny. They told each other stories and jokes, snorting at all the appropriate places. Mom watched in the rearview mirror and smiled.


Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Daily Prompt; Storm

Daily Prompt; Storm



At PD, the boat pitched and rolled violently, “Quartermaster, do you have a fix?”

“Aye.”

“Very well, make your depth 400 feet, 5 degree down bubble.”

“400 feet aye – make your depth 400 feet, maintain 5 degrees.”

“Seas are rising, last look shows, hmmm, I’ll call it ‘state 6’ let’s go under this. It’s getting ugly. Down scope.”

The movement of the ship lessened slightly as we went deeper, below the storm. I picked up my coffee and moved aft through upper level ops. I took the ladder outside ESM down to the crews mess, refilled my cup and sat down. I watched Beast and Uncle Jerry play a few hands of  hearts and felt the boat level off at 400’.

For the next three days we stayed deep, only sneaking back to the turbulence of periscope depth in order to catch the periodic broadcast. We waited for the weather to abate. There was no surface traffic to speak of, no sonar contacts, the seas were too heavy.


 

Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Might be OK, I Gues

Daily Prompt; Guest



I wanted to spend some of my prize money

I’d won at the quiz show on the TV, so

I asked Miss Imogene to be my guessed

For dinner at the roadhouse

Steak,

fried potatoes,

and beer

How’d you know the answer to that question, she asked me

I didn’t, I just guest

She shook her head a bit – grinned

I used my napkin to wipe a bit of A1 sauce

That had squeezed from the corner of her mouth

Will you come back to my house after dinner, I asked her

I don’t rightly know, what are your intentions

My intentions are honorable, I replied

I just want to show you my etchings

Well, that might be OK; I gues


 

The Blog Propellant · Uncategorized · writing

On-line Writer’s Guild #21

  1. It’s good to see you Bernice
  2. A handy blade
  3. I need a crowd to get lost in

TBP’s On-line Writer’s Guild #21



I pushed open the door and stood inside letting my eyes adjust to the lower light level that was in the restaurant. The hostess greeted me.

“Good evening, sir, how many in your party?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered, “I’m supposed to be meeting someone. Can I go in and look around?”

She nodded, and turned her attention back to the iphone that rested on her podium. Sticking my head around the divider that separated the dining area from the entry, I scanned the tables. There she was at the other side of the room. Waving, bouncing up and down in her chair, I expected her to yell or whistle. Thank goodness that didn’t happen. I crossed the room and slid into the chair opposite her; she took my hand.

“Thanks for coming, David.”

“It’s good to see you, Bernice. What’s up?”

“It’s Danielle. I think she’s…”

That was when the waiter showed up, demanding our immediate attention in order to recite a litany of menu items we could order that were not on the board. Bernice ordered a Bouillabaisse and a glass of Chardonnay. I settled on a long neck beer and a cheese Panini because it was the closest thing to a grilled cheese sandwich that I was going to get here.

As the waiter turned to leave and go bother another group of diners I took the time to look at Bernice. She was a handsome woman and I had been her second husband. Our relationship, while it lasted had been solely physical. We couldn’t keep our hands off one another. Danielle had been the product of her first marriage: her marriage to Chet.

She had enjoyed the company of two additional husbands since she had left me. Danielle was her only child and had been two years old during my brief marriage to her mother. That seemed to have been a long time ago.

Danielle was the reason I had stayed with Bernice for almost a year. After the shine, the gloss, of the physical relationship wore down we both realized that we had nothing in common. We had nothing to talk about, except for the fact that we both adored her daughter. I used to delight in taking Danielle down to the park to feed the ducks in the pond, or push her on the swing. She loved the swings, I think she would have happily spent her life on the swings. I had stayed in touch with Danielle but maintained only limited contact with her mother over the ensuing years.

“Are you listening to me, David?” Bernice trilled. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Of course, I heard you,” I answered.

“Well, what should we do about it?”

“Do about what?”

“Honestly, you haven’t changed, and you’re such a shit, you’re not listening to me at all. I said that I think Danielle is pregnant.”

“Pregnant? Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure. A woman can recognize the signs, you know.”

“Have you asked her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I was hoping you would do that.”

“Sure, I’ll come over this weekend and take her to the park. We still go to the park a lot. I’ll ask her then.”

Bernice and I didn’t speak to one another for the rest of the meal. When I left I drove downtown. I needed people. I needed to become just another anonymous face in a faceless throng of people. I needed a crowd to get lost in.

Instead I called Danielle.

“Hi, David.” She said when she picked up.

“Hey Danielle, I just had dinner with your mother. She tells me that congratulations might be in order.”

“Thanks, I’m about four months along.”

“How you feeling?”

“I feel great but I’ve been worried about how I should tell Mom. Guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore, huh?”

“Don’t tell her that I called. She wants me to ask you about it this weekend. I told her I would come by and pick you up so we could talk about it. Want to come to my place for a barbeque? You can bring your young man if you want.”

“That sounds great. Saturday?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up in the morning, around ten. I’ll grill burgers for lunch.”


 

Daily Prompt · writing

Daily Prompt; Desert

Daily Prompt; Desert



Warren stepped off the train and pushed his hat back on his head. Damn, it was hot here. When he’d gotten the telegram from Billy he jumped at the chance to fall back in with the old gang, but in the old days they’d pretty much stuck with Missouri and the surrounding states. It could get warm and humid there, Lord knows he’d complained about the weather enough but it was nothing like here in Yuma. He had never felt a heat like this except those times he had stoked his mama’s woodstove, as a boy.

He made his way under the awning and took a seat on the wooden bench in the shade and waited. Billy had said he would send someone to meet him.

The day wore on and the crowd on the platform dispersed. Warren had his Henry rifle in a leather case leaning on the wall next to him, the case was soft and shiny; from countless cleanings and oilings. A matched pair of six guns, with ‘mother o’ pearl’ handles was strapped to his hips, and saddlebags perched next to him on the bench. Warren sat still, studied the horizon and endured the heat. He sat for hours, just waiting. He dozed on an off but it was too hot to get any real sleep.

It was early evening when a young cowboy stepped onto the platform from around the side of the depot. Warren had heard him coming but stayed still and watched him. He wore chaps and a canvas duster, with a wide brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. His hair was long and unkempt, tied at the back of his neck, he needed a shave. When he turned towards him, Warren spotted a black patch over his left eye. He spat a wad of tobacco towards the tracks.

“You Warren?” the young cowboy asked without coming any closer.

“Might be,” Warren replied, “Who’re you?”

“Name’s Angus. Billy sent me to meet somebody named Warren, take him back to camp. Would that be you?”

Warren stood up, satisfied that Angus was who he claimed to be. “Yep, that would be me. Did you bring a extra horse?”

Angus smiled, “I got you a horse, sir and I’m sorry I’m late.” He said but offered no explanation.

Warren picked up his rifle, and threw his saddlebags over his shoulder. “How far we goin’, Angus?”

“It’s ‘bout a five hour ride, we’re going south inta Mexico. I figger we got a couple hours of light left tonight. We can camp in the Tinajas. It’ll be a little cooler there. We can finish the ride in the mornin’. Billy’s anxious to see you again.”

Warren simply nodded and started walking in the direction from which Angus had come. The young cowboy fell in step and walked along with him.

“Billy’s told me about some of the things you two got up to in Missouri. He told us about that time when you was boxed in, just southeast of Independence. Did that shit really happen?”

Warren paused, “Billy told you about that, did he?”

Angus stopped and looked back at him, “Yes, sir. He did. He says no one’s better with a long gun than you.”

“Billy said that?” They started walking again. Neither one speaking.

Rounding the corner of the building Warren spotted a pair of horses. A Palomino, that was obviously Angus’ mount and a Bay that he assumed was for him. He grinned. He could tell that these were Billy’s horses. Billy’d always had an eye for a good horse. It was gonna be good to ride with Billy again. It was gonna be good.