OLWG · writing

OLWG# 283- Dinner Out

Written for OLWG# 283

A rhinestone chain ran from her cat-eye glasses to the nametag she wore pinned to her light blue uniform with white trim and turquoise piping.

The nametag read “Marge.”

She had three water glasses in each hand and set them down on the table in front of us. My brother began passing them around. In the pocket of the short white apron that she had fastened tight around her waist, she carried her order pad, at least three stubby pencils, and a handful of nickels and dimes.

“Good evening. Welcome to “The Wild Pigeon Cafe. Can I get you something to drink?”

“What’s the Special tonight?” Dad.

“Tonight, we have a delicate macaroni pasta topped with a provocative American cheese sauce. It comes with your choice of sides. You could opt for a heavy slab of Murray’s famous meatloaf or a lightly breaded and deep-fried fish stick from the refrigerator section at the Farm Store.”

Hmmm, Dad mused, and Mom scowled when Marge flashed her pearly whites at him.

She kept on with her pitch, “The pasta pairs well with Coca-Cola or, not surprisingly, with our sweet tea, too. I’ll give you a little time to decide and then take your dinner orders when I come back with your drinks.

She pulled out her pad and one of the yellow stubby # 2’s and glared back at my mother, waiting for a drink order.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. this was a mistake
  2. a provocative cheese sauce
  3. if you close your eyes



All she ever wanted was to give
birth. She’d longed for a
child to remind her of
Diego. With his high cheekbones, square jaw,
eyes of the deepest blue, and his
feet splayed ever so slightly. What she
got was a girl. A perfect girl, a girl with coal black
hair and a smile so bright that it
inspired the sun.
Just so. The child was named
Never will this child accept less than fair,
or less than
perfect. She never
quarrels. She chooses debate, and is
regal in her bearing and comport.
Soft, yet
Unassuming and unpretentious, Kim’s
veracity may someday be her undoing, despite
what her mother might think. The product of a
xenogamous love affair. Her mother’s 
yearning to be with someone or something else; Kim was
zapped into being, against all odds.

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 282- prosimetric

Written for OLWG# 282

Camila could hear the loud, discordant, hardcore punk music wailing as soon as she steered the 1965 Ford LTD into the sprawling apartment complex parking lot. She instinctively and immediately knew what it was. She parked, left the groceries in the car and scrambled towards apartment 125C, the apartment she shared with her on-again / off-again boyfriend, Floyd, the songwriter. The front door was open. From the stereo, raucous music screamed at a volume adjusted to approximately three dB above the threshold-of-pain. Floyd wore only his “Y fronts” and was seated on the piano bench singing some song that didn’t go with the music, idly plinking on the white keys; an empty whisky bottle lay at his feet.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Camila wailed.

“Floyd?” She yelled, but he didn’t hear her. His attention focused on the television, where girls in miniskirts with beehive hairdos and high white boots were gyrating on screen. She picked her way across the living room floor and turned off the stereo. Floyd looked up at her and smiled. Camila dashed across the room and shut off the TV. The room was silent except for Floyd, plinking on the keyboard and singing an improvisational sheebop bowww bebop woww skiba deba dedo owww. A degenerating dog-end floated in half a glass of whisky that sat atop the upright piano, which, in turn, sat against the staircase.

“Floyd!” she yelled. But she stopped when she heard the knocking at the open door. Two uniformed police officers stood framed on the stoop. Camila rolled her eyes.

opposites attract…
the artist, the conformist
understanding / love

This week’s prompts were:

  1. Oh, no no no no
  2. watching “Ironsides” on TV
  3. counting my toes


ZoZo 20.October.22 The circle of life.

Written in 20 minutes, with the Carrizozo Writers- Raw, unedited, exactly as it flowed through my fingers to the keyboard

Enid had that old red suitcase. She’d had it for years. It had been her Mama’s suitcase before she passed away.

Enid was a trouper, a show girl, an actress, just like her Mama had been. That suitcase had traveled back and forth, across the country, at least a couple hundred times. Mostly on trains, but sometimes in the back of an automobile or a pickup truck; the stories that bag could most likely tell.

It was covered in embroidered patches now, New York, Atlanta, LA, Chicago, and Denver, just to name a few. Enid had made it a point to visit as many of the places that her Mama had done. She worked in many of the theatres where her Mama had worked, too. Even played some of the same parts that she had played, sang the same songs that she remembered her Mama used to sing to her as they rode the rails. Sometimes in first class, sometimes in boxcars.

The show must go on! There was always work, for a talented and versatile performer. That’s what Enid had learned from Mama. Don’t let yourself become dependent on some no good man. She had learned that too.

Enid never knew who her father was. She didn’t need to know. She was an independent woman.

She had spent some time with men, just like her Mama had done when a show ran for a long time. That mostly happened in big cities, Like New York, or San Francisco, or Dallas. Not too long ago she had spent almost six months in Kansas City, of all places. She had met a gentleman there, a stagehand, who claimed to be a distant relative of Wyatt Earp. He had been a kind man and she had allowed him to become a little more familiar than she mighta should have. It wasn’t the first time, but now she was beginning to feel a little nauseated in the mornings. Her appetite was off.

She suspected that she was going to pass this suitcase on to her own daughter soon.


time’s up – step away

The prompts

  1. so kind of you
  2. a battered old suitcase
  3. where we’ve been

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 280- Shame about Ms Chetham

Written for OLWG# 280

Don’t go pokin’ around under the clematis.
There’s a nest of rattlesnakes and firebugs under the pergola.
Ms Chetham found ‘em last week,
She’s still out there.

I called the sheriff’s office, but Sheriff Ventura, well,
he’s at some kind of lawman convention upstate.
Marge tole me, on the phone, that he’s due back in a couple days and
she’ll dispatch him out to investigate first thing, he gets back.

All we can do now is wait. Shame about Ms Chetham.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. rattlesnakes and firebugs
  2. she slipped away
  3. pieces of one another

And because we were owed some prompts:

  1. I’ve lost my St Christopher
  2. change the words to this poem
  3. I guess I do


The House at #4

Harvey moved to Rush Street in January of this year. He had bought the house at number five. It was a good-sized two-story home with three bedrooms and 2.5 baths, a great neighbourhood. An expansive “green belt” out back provided a view of manicured parkland that he could see from the back. The house next door (number four) housed an attractive thirty-something lady named Tessa. Tessa lived alone and liked to bake cupcakes. A different batch each week.

She made red velvet cupcakes, gingerbread cupcakes and chocolate chip cupcakes. She made Caramel Apple, Mint Oreo, Lemon, Chocolate Berry, Churro, and on and on. It was a seemingly endless variety of flavours. Tessa delivered cupcakes to all her family members, friends, and neighbours.

The first time that she delivered to Harvey’s house, she brought Snickerdoodle cakes. The next time was Devil’s Food with Coconut. By the time she brought him the Lemon Raspberry cakes he knew that he was in love.

A whirlwind courtship preceded a quickie service in Vegas. complete with Wedding Cake cupcakes – Iced with Vanilla Buttercream and monochromatic Confetti Sprinkles. They stayed in Nevada for three days after the service for a Honeymoon. They visited bake shops during the day. Places like La Belle Terre Bakery and Café, Patisserie Manon, and Le Macaron. At night they would retreat to their hotel room for an evening of sweet pastries and debauchery.

They returned to Rush Street and the newlyweds sold the house at number five. They moved in together at number four where all the baking supplies and tools resided.

Harv put on almost 75 pounds in less than two years and Tessa found it more and more difficult to look at him. Their love palled. Tessa tried to breathe life back into their marriage, they had been so happy. She changed the way that she dressed, and she cut back on her baking, but it was all to no avail. She had lost him. Tessa filed for divorce and plead, “Irreconcilable differences.” The judge agreed and granted the request. Harv moved out of number 4 and agonized over where to move next, Pie Town New Mexico or Cookietown, Oklahoma. Eventually settling in Oklahoma.

Tessa, for her part, moved to Maine and bought an island in Piscataquis County. She changed the name from Witham Island to Cupcake Island. It has its very own zip code (04414). If you find yourself up there, stop by “04414 Cupcakes.”

Any flavour is wonderful but I usually order anything with Lemon. I love Lemon. And, give my best to Tessa.


Zozo- 29.Sep.2022 Breaking the Ice

Written in 20 minutes, with the Carrizozo Writers- Raw, unedited, exactly as it flowed through my fingers to the keyboard

They say that you can’t go home again, and it’s true. I tried it once and wound up sitting with all my family members talking over the rim of my coffee cup to anyone who happened to be sitting on the other side of the table. It sucked. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I had nothing in common with these people anymore, and I somehow lost my ability to relate a story. Any story.

That first evening, I started telling my cousin Renee about a time when I had the flu and she didn’t really seem interested at all. I figured out why when I learned she wasn’t my cousin, Renee. She was a friend of my cousin who had stopped by to pick Renee up and go to a concert at the Event Centre.

I asked who they were going to see and she told me the name of an artist I had never heard of. She added that they were going to be late if my cousin wasn’t ready soon.

“We’re going to miss the opening act!” she complained.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“Some old group I never heard of.” She told me. “Fleetweed something or other…”

“Fleetweed Mud?” I queried.

“I don’t know, maybe. They’re supposed to be pretty good though. My mom used to like them.”

“Tell you what,” I suggested. “Why don’t you and I go? Renee doesn’t seem that interested, she’s not even here, and I used to like Fleetweed Mud. If that’s the opening act, I wouldn’t mind seeing them.”

“Let’s go then.” She said, and then she introduced herself, “I’m Marie.”

“You want me to drive Marie?” I asked. “I’ve got some weed in my luggage, Let me get it.”

“Oh, not for me, I don’t smoke that stuff.”

“I know, I have some homemade mescaline. I’ll get that instead.”

She smiled and jingled her keys. “I don’t mind driving.”


time’s up – step away

The prompts

  1. have some of this
  2. a dog wandered
  3. had the flu
  4. talking over the cup rim