OLWG · writing

OLWG#139- U & I

This was written for OLWG#139

You and I are somewhat industrious, but less than efficacious
We try hard, but are seldom successful
Like fishermen pulling up stones.

Catching a lot, but nothing we can eat.
At least we have each other
We cling together and carry on.

The prompts were:

  1. we cling together
  2. fishermen pulling up stones

The Blog Propellant · writing

Sorry That I Called Your Dad A Dick


I crushed another empty beer can against my forehead and snagged another handful of stale Cheetos when I realized I was getting pretty drunk. Across the room, the clock on the VCR told me that it was 1:37. The little red light was illuminated next to the time so that indicated AM. It was 0137 and I was drunk, eating stale Cheetos and rearranging house plants.

Before she moved out Clarissa had written directions for proper care of the plants. Each had a little card with directions saying things like “needs a lot of sun,” “needs only a modicum of water,” to wait, wha…what the hell…? This one says never water! It says to keep in a dark room! I can’t believe this… all the plants are all going to die now. I should chuck em out the window. She better never come back, ‘cause if she does I’ll probably have to send her away again. I wish she hadn’t left. I would’ve done anything for her; well anything except apologize to her dad, or get a regular job. I’m an artist, for cryin’ out loud!

She is something. I wonder how long’s it gonna be before she comes crawling back. Before she realizes that she never had it so good. When she calls she’ll most likely be crying and asking me to take her back… and then… and then I’ll tell her no. I’ll tell her I got three or four women over right now, but I may be able to make some time for her next week.

What am I saying? I wish she hadn’t left. I promise to try harder. I promise to get at least a part-time job. Hell, I’ll even tell her dad that I’m sorry. She won’t pick up when I call her though. None of her friends knows where she is. I’m getting worried.

I used your prompts verbatim, then I looked up V.E.R.B.A.T.I.M. I’m so confused!

OLWG · writing

OLWG#138- Insurgents

This was written for OLWG#138

Celia Santamana and Melba Sánchez joined the revolution when they were both 17 years old. They had grown up together in Pilón, on the southern coast and were assigned to the care of Haydee Hernández a slightly older and more experienced revolutionary. Hernández showed her young charges how to drink, smoke, and fuck. Along with a crash course in guerilla warfare, she introduced them to the care and use of all weapons including blades and firearms. The girls were naturals, but she helped them hone their skills. In fact it was Haydee who introduced Celia to Estéban.

The prompts were:

  1. when the revolution comes
  2. desperate and blue
  3. like old lovers

OLWG · writing

OLWG#137- Sugar

This was written for OLWG#137

I was leaning against the streetlight on the corner of Piedras Blvd. and Vista. It was cold and raining hard. My clothes clung wet and heavy. I heard the car long before I spotted it. It rolled up Piedras and slowed to a stop at the curb by my lamppost. The rear window slid down and a hand emerged to beckon me over.

“Why aren’t you working, Sugar?” a big guy whispered from the backseat.

“I’m trying, Diamondtrim. It’s the weather.” I said, “There’s hardly any traffic at all tonight. It’s just me and these streetlights.” I shrugged my shoulders and shivered from the rain.

“Don’t give up.” he said, “This is what Saturdays are for.”

The window buzzed shut again and the car pulled slowly away, a cloud of exhaust following. I moved back to my post and wished for a cigarette.

The prompts were:

  1. In the middle of the kitchen floor
  2. that’s what Saturdays are for
  3. just me and these streetlights


Time for a Change

Written for this challenge – Thank you Peter

Connie looked over her shoulder as Rick eased in through the front door. If looks could kill, he’d be dead now and he knew it, but he still had to try.

She growled at him, “You got a lotta damn gall, showing up here, showing up now.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry, Connie…” Rick kinda let his apology run out of steam. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged his shoulders. Tried to look pathetic. Tried a sheepish grin.

On her part, Connie started flinging everything she could lay her hands on at him. “Are you trying to piss me off?” she screamed, “Is that what you want? Just get out. Get the fuck out.”

Rick took a step forward.

She threw a big book. It mighta been a cooking book, or it mighta been Tolstoy; she didn’t bother to check which. It did the trick though.

Rick retreated back the way he had come. He went out the front door.

Connie leaned back. She needed to get the locks changed, and as long as she was changing things, maybe she’d she should go downtown tomorrow. Change her hair.

OLWG · writing

OLWG#136- Catch of the Day

This was written for OLWG#136

Soft jazz and bebop wafted from the speakers in the restaurant when Cosmo folded his menu as he saw the girl returning. He studied her walk.

Approaching, she pulled a pad and pencil from her apron pocket. Arriving, she put all her sleight weight on her back leg and one hand on her hip.

“Didja figger it out yet?” she asked. She waited.

There was something about her eyes, he thought. She has beautiful eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

She shifted her posture before replying, “Cassiopeia,” she smiled a little crookedly, “Uh, Cassie, everyone calls me Cassie.”

“That’s a ‘stellar’ name Cassie.” he replied, “I’m Cosmo.” The two looked at one another and the music changed. It was Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. It was ‘Hothouse’ from the “Jazz at Massey Hall” recordings. “I’m looking at the catch of the day, Cassie,” he pointed at the chalked specials menu on the wall, “the salmon.”

“Great choice, Mr Cosmo,” she said, “but we’ve run out. I guess they didn’t catch enough.”

“Damn, what would you recommend then?”

“Me? I’d recommend the Cobb Salad at Aldo’s down the street, but that’s just me.” She pushed her curly dark hair back behind her ear on one side. That lopsided smile came back and lit up her face. Her lips were moist. Shiny.

The prompts were:

  1. we’ve run out
  2. Bird on the box
  3. A one ring circus