OLWG · writing

OLWG# 196- Devil of Fire

Written for OLWG# 196



I pushed open the swinging door and, the place got real quiet.

It took a little time for my eyes to adjust to the low light. There were six tables, all filled. An empty stool beckoned from close to the centre of the bar. A tall, dark-haired girl stood behind a row of beer towers; she leaned against the chill boxes and wore a white collared shirt with black jeans. An apron hung loosely from her hips.

I threaded my way to the empty stool, hoisted myself into the seat and put my right foot on the brass rail, where it’s supposed to rest. Nodding to the woman behind the bar, I looked at the rest of the punters. First, I glanced over my right shoulder, then my left. Still, no one spoke. The only sound was Gary Stewart, woozily singing low about an Empty Glass from the torn speaker of an AM radio perched at the end of the bar. All eyes were on me, the stranger in the room.

“Can you get me a shot and a beer?” I asked the girl. I spun the stool around and looked at the other customers. We all studied each other for a moment until I broke the silence, “Don’t look at me,” I said, “I voted for the other guy.” It seemed like forever, but finally, a deep-throated laugh began. Slow, it emanated from somewhere in the back, far from the front door. Others joined in as if I had just told the funniest joke in the world. The whole place was chuckling, giggling, belly laughing.

My drink came, I heard her set it on the bar, and she whispered, “This one’s on the house.”


This weeks prompts were:

  1. the wetness of his soul
  2. I voted
  3. overcome the legacy
The Blog Propellant · writing

TBP New Prompt #5- Kids Today



mini-tbp
TBP

 

I was in High School when I met Krissy (with a K) at a taco stand on night in El Paso. Me, Stevie, and Mike were out cruising in Stevie’s 1959 Cadillac convertible. It was a long, powerful automobile that was good for attracting chicks.

Krissy and her two friends didn’t require much prompting to crawl into the Caddy with us for a cruise downtown. Krissy came with a fat bomber, the size of her middle finger and I was pleased that she chose to sit in the back seat with me. On the way downtown we drank, smoked Krissy’s fattie, rolled up some Mexican weed so we could keep partying, and, most importantly, we stopped at the Piggly Wiggly on Montana where we bought a package or Oreos to stave off the munchies. I learned that night that Krissy could easily fit three whole Oreos into her mouth at one time.

Eventually we wound up near the University and lied our way into a Frat party. My smart mouth very nearly got us all into a fight but fortunately, my adversary developed a sense of humour at the last minute and we escaped.

The years have passed and been kind. Krissy and I have two high school aged children of our own. I don’t understand the kids today. They are not at all like their mother and I were. They’d rather play video games than throw up and hallucinate. I can’t figure it out. Can you?



Written for The New Blog Propellant Prompt #5

The prompt:

Use the theme “prompt,” or one of its synonyms to create a story or poem
(Some synonyms: incite, arouse, cause, convince, elicit…)


OLWG · writing

OLWG# 195- Jacob and Jenny Plan an Adventure

Written for OLWG# 195



When Jacob went to Jenny’s house on Christmas Eve, the excuse was to spend time with old friends and exchange holiday gifts. Both of them wound up filled with Christmas spirits; they split a punch bowl filled with Jingle Juice that Jenny had made from a recipe taken off a Martha Stewart website. Martha apparently believed in making Jingle Juice with both Vodka and Tequila. At least that’s what Jenny told Jacob that night.

As the evening progressed, the two fell deeper into a spinning well of intoxication. Pauses in the conversation grew longer, and their heads sank closer and closer to the table. It was about a quarter after two when Jacob suddenly sat up straight and focused his attention on Jenny.

“Jenny, what are you doing on the 6th?” He asked.

“Dunno, why you ask?” she answered her eyes at half-mast.

“Me and some of my boys,” he paused and stared through her. When his eyes focused again, he continued, “Me and some of my boys are thinking about going to DC, taking over the capital building. Wanna come?”

Jenny ladled out another cup of Martha’s Jingle Juice. She took a long drink and said, “that’ll be fun.” She seemed to consider it further, “Maybe not,” she continued, “I’m supposed to go to a work retreat in Mexico sometime in February, and I’m looking forward to that.”

“Won’t matter,” he assured her. “We prob’ly won’t get caught anyway.”

“Well then, sure. I’d love to go.”


This weeks prompts were

  1. you born in a barn?
  2. if I don’t go I’ll never know what’s there
  3. that’ll be fun
The Blog Propellant · writing

TBP Redux #14- Mouse



Back in the day, Felix used to hang out with a chick who called herself Mouse. She was a skinny girl; hardly had any tits or hips to speak of. Looked a lot like Kate Moss at the height of the ‘heroin chic’ wave. Felix and I had grown up together on East 3rd. His ma and my ma used to play bridge together on Saturday nights. He used to be just Felix, but now he’d begun to think of himself as a … I don’t know … maybe he’d have called himself a high roller. Perhaps he thought he was about to hit the big time.

I remember I ran into them both one night about a week before Christmas at the 24 karat klub on Ashland Street. They were sitting in one of those velvet booths, up high where they could see the dance floor. Mouse was wearing one of those gold metallic gown things with a loose low neckline. Eye candy for sure, but her downside was an overpowering reliance on cocaine. She said it made her feel happy. She said it made her feel horny. She liked it a lot. I hadn’t seen them when I’d come in, but it hadn’t taken long to notice them once inside. I caught Felix’ eye and, he motioned for me to join him and Mouse and a bunch of other people I didn’t recognize. There looked to be a favourable ratio of women to men, so I stopped a nurse, pointed to the booth where Felix sat, and asked if she could bring me a single-malt to that table. I made my way up to join the party.

I had recently done some work for Felix and, he’d been happy with the results, so I was in his good graces. At the table, he stood. He clapped me on the back with his right hand as he wrapped his left around my shoulder, giving me one of those funny man hugs that homophobes seem to do in public. Mouse stood and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. I stared straight down her top at what looked just like two fried eggs on a plate. Then I took a seat at the end of the table, next to Felix. He smiled and motioned down the table. A girl came over and sat next to me. That night the air was thick with a perfumed nostalgia, a smoky intimacy that slowed everything down, impeding thoughts and motion.

The nurse brought my whisky; I stared at Mouse’s chest and watched her snort coke off the tabletop next to Felix. I talked to that other girl whose name I never caught, but she didn’t seem to have anything interesting to say. Eventually, I tuned it all out and watched the couples on the dance floor. My head began to spin from the run together sultry voices of all the people with whom Felix, Mouse and I shared a table. I still didn’t know who any of them were. It wasn’t long before I could take it no longer and decided to leave.

I took a cab home and made my way up the walk. I fumbled with the key until I opened the front door. A buttery yellow light glowed from the kitchen, and the clink of cutlery caused me to slink down the short passageway and peek around the corner. It was that girl, the one from the 24 karat who never told me her name. She sat at the tile bar separating the kitchen from the dining area. I had a thousand questions. How had she gotten here so fast? What was she doing here? Why was she standing in the kitchen? Who the fuck was that guy she was with? On the other side of the bar was a man with a bald head, short red hair around the sides and back, freckles on the top. I didn’t recognize him at all.  He was feeding her with his fingers, white cake with white frosting. They laughed. She looked up at me.

“Mr Cardona,” she welcomed me in my own home, “come on in. We’ve been waiting for you. This is Mr Smith.” She gestured towards the bald guy with red fringe hair. “I didn’t get much chance to speak with you at the club so we thought it best to come meet you here.” She raised her eyebrows and waited.

“I don’t know you,” I said, “I don’t know your name. I’ve never even seen this guy.” It was my turn to gesture at her companion.

“Oh, sorry; my bad,” she said, and then she looked into her purse, she fished around a bit before pulling out a black leather wallet. Opening it, she showed me a badge. “Special Agent McKitrick, FBI. This is Agent Smith.”

“How did you guys get here so fast?”

She grinned, “That’s not important now, is it? We need to ask you some questions about your friends Felix and Mouse.”



This week’s prompt:

You walk into your home and find two people you don’t know eating cake. What happens next?


The Blog Propellant · writing

TBP New Prompt #4- More Inspiration than Aspiration



TBP

 

animals

a well-turned phrase

anyone who does, or has done, something well

beautiful days

artists

beautiful girls

bravery

blank canvas

breezes

colour palettes

clouds

colours

a well prepared meal

a near miss

a well-turned ankle

could be any given situation

community

dogs

generosity

farmers

goals achieved (my own, or my loved ones, or friends)

children

charity

chivalry

health

having the right tool

honesty

ideas

ideas

kindness

mountains

manners

nature

notebooks

northern lights

paintings

perseverance

passing trains

photos

poems

plans that works as they should

poets

San Francisco

rodeos

science

libraries

language

machinery that works and works well

selflessness

sculpture

sharing

something almost heard

smiles

something almost seen

sometimes a drink

something almost understood

song birds

southern cross

song writers

stars

storytellers

stories

talent

the golden gate bridge

the arctic

the purr of a mountain lion

theatre

the sea

understanding

words

well-honed knife’s edge

writers

writing implements



The prompt:

“Inspiration,” in English has had the meaning “the drawing of air into the lungs” since the middle of the 16th century. This breathing sense is still in common use among doctors, as is “expiration”…However, before “inspiration” was used to refer to breath it had a distinctly theological meaning in English, referring to a divine influence upon a person. The sense of inspiration often found today (“someone or something that inspires”) is considerably newer than either of these two senses, dating from the 19th century. (from Merriam-Webster.com)

Author’s note:

aspiration? Hmm…


OLWG · writing

OLWG# 193- женщина (zhenshchina)

Written for OLWG# 193



I was at my desk, headphones clamped to my ears so I could listen to Mrs Lagounov gossiping with another woman, I assumed to be her neighbour, and who went by the name Voronin.

Voronin’s daughter, called Masha, had recently become engaged. I took careful and thorough notes of the ongoing conversation between the two. The wedding sounded like a blast; they had gone over the guest list and discussed the dinner menu. Just two older women talking, and then I heard this…

Mrs Lagounov inserted an off-topic observation into the conversation, “My garden is full of weeds this year, and the herbicide isn’t working.”

Voronin replied with no change in her tone, “Perhaps you should use a shear to clip the weeds.”

Lagounov said, “Shears are too indiscriminate; besides, weeds must be pulled out by the roots. Perhaps you could come and remove them, for the standard fee?”

“I’ll meet with you tomorrow, in the usual place, we can discuss the details. I was thinking of serving Kissel for dessert. What do you think?”

I wrote down what they had said, verbatim, and pressed the yellow coloured button that would alert my supervisor. In almost no time, my supervisor and two managers were at my desk. The two subjects whom I had been surveilling were already returned to discussions of Masha’s upcoming wedding.  Voronin was questioning whether or not it was appropriate for her daughter to wear white.


This weeks prompts were

  1. just shallow socializing
  2. and then I heard this …
  3. she’s already cooler than me