Monthly Archives: March 2012

Never Go to Bed Angry (for Trifextra)


Here’s my second (hopefully blood … or at least milk … curdling) entry for the Trifextra Weekend Challenge. Rules: Entrants must write a horror story in 33 words exactly, without the words blood, scream, died, death, knife, gun or kill.

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Trifextra Entry #2 – Never Go to Bed Angry

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“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’m sorry, too,” she said, kissing his check. Finally releasing the hammer, she climbed into her side of the bed to spoon his still warm body. “Things will be better tomorrow.”

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Clueless (for Trifextra)


Thanks, Trifecta, for the 3rd place nod in your regular contest this past week. I had so much fun writing Waterproof that I just might actually expand on it a bit. (See! That’s the good thing you do for people like me, Trifecta.)

But now it’s time for the Trifextra Weekend Challenge. Here are this weekend’s rules: Entrants must write a horror story in 33 words exactly, without the words blood, scream, died, death, knife, gun or kill. CurrentlyI’m playing with a few ideas.

Oh, look! Here comes one now …

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Trifextra Entry – Clueless

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“Wait! Miss Scarlett … with a rope … in the conservator—“

She lunged and tightened the rope around his neck until he slumped to the floor.

So close,” she said, walking out of the library.

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Waterproof (for Trifecta)


Dear Reader, I’m reposting this short piece in the hopes of reminding myself that it needs finishing. I’ve actually already begun working on continuing the story and have high hopes of seeing it to fruition in the “not-so-distant” future. I would love your feedback. Thanks.

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Following is my entry for this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge. As is usually the case, I went with the first idea that popped into my threadbare brain. RULES: All entries must be between 33 and 333 words and need to include the following word using its third definition:

cheap adj \ˈchēp\

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Waterproof

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I live in a town called Waterproof. Yes, I know it’s a strange name. It’s supposed to mean we’re protected from floodwaters and, around these parts, that’s a good thing. So nobody ever dared to change it.

Waterproof is right on the Louisiana-Mississippi border so it’s no surprise that we’re one of the poorest cities in the state. The last time anybody checked, the average income for a family around here was about $15,000, and that’s usually supposed to take care of three or four people. More than half of us live below the poverty line. And I say “us” because Daddy and I are probably scraping the bottom of that bowl.

We’re also one of the smallest cities in the state. The sign on the highway says we have 693 people living here, but it’s wrong. At least, I know it’s wrong by three. My best friend, Josie, her mother and her little brother, Dewey, moved away last year when Miss Eileen got that job offer in Tuscaloosa. She said she just couldn’t pass up a chance to move her family to a big city with good schools and restaurants and more than one supermarket.

All I know is that it’s 300 miles away, according to Daddy. And that means no visits, just letters. But I have to sneak the stamps. Daddy says stamp prices are so high that you can only mail two letters for a dollar these days. He says when he was my age he could mail six letters for that same dollar and still have a dime in his pocket for bubble gum.

That’s Daddy.

He’s always looking for ways to stretch his pay. I remember eating potatoes for dinner a whole week once because it’s how he got paid that time. He says the only things you shouldn’t scrimp on are shoes and tires. Daddy says you don’t want anything too cheap coming between you and the road. He says every man deserves at least that.

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My first real job after college was in Louisiana Tourism. I got to see a lot of small towns in the state with which I would not otherwise even be familiar. Fun fact – my salary for that job was below the one quoted in this story.

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Yes, you CAN humiliate a cat


My girl has a genuine and unconditional love of all things cat, kitten and feline. Her room is full of stuffed cats, cat calendars, cat statues, cat posters, books about cats, cat games … you get the idea. And she’s shared many a cute picture of these animals, especially in baby form, with me over the years.

One such photo of a mother Singapura cat and her kittens is below.

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                 My daughter was clearly touched by this heartwarming picture of nature at its best …                       so much so that I guess she felt the need to replicate it.

And so it happened that, over the weekend, I came across this little scene in my home.

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Not only are these creatures (a sock monkey, a dragon and a spotted pink rabbit) not feline in species but, I will remind you, Milo is a male. I have never seen a cat look more undignified.

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I turned down a job today. It’s really not what I’m looking for.


At exactly 2:23am this morning, the following message was sent to me:

Not everyone will survive. An ancient alien race, known only as “Reapers,” has launched an all-out invasion leaving nothing but a trail of destruction in their wake. Earth has been taken, the galaxy is on the verge of total annihilation, and you are the only one who can stop them. The price of failure is extinction. You are Commander Shepard, a character that you can forge in your own image. You determine how events will play out, which planets to explore, and whom to form alliances with as you rally a force to eliminate the Reaper threat once and for all. How you wage this war is completely up to you: go into combat with guns blazing or use cover to plan a more tactical assault. Utilize your squad to full effect or take a lone wolf approach. Rain death from a distance or go toe-to-toe with enemies using devastating melee attacks. Mass Effect 3 will react to each decision you make as you play through a truly unique experience of your own creation.

I thought about it a lot, but followed up with this firm but kind refusal:

Dear Selection Committee for this Ominous Position,

Okay, first of all … What the hell, man?

Can I just say that I feel GREAT PRESSURE to save the Earth for a Monday morning?!!?

Why am I the “only one” who can prevent this “extinction?” (Yes, you DO hear whining in my voice!) Geez, even on a fat day, I’m still only about 120 pounds. And if you ever heard me say I was 5’4,” then I was lying.  I’m 5’3.75″ at best. Plus, um, I get winded pretty easily. Ooh, and don’t even get me started on bruising. I am like a banana when I so much as brush against the footboard of my bed.

Is this appeal coming to me because of all the Hunger Games/Katniss nonsense I’ve been putting out there? Dude, there is a real difference between reading about powerful females and actually being one.

So, to whomever is in charge of tapping a ‘Commander Shepard,’ PLEASE KEEP LOOKING. I am whole heartedly disinterested. I’ve already got my hands full with two kids, a husband (a term many women would liken to a third child. Ladies, am I right?), a cat who can’t decide if he really likes me or not and, you know, lots of other stuff. I wouldn’t have the first idea who to call to form these so-called “alliances.” Neptune? Jupiter? I don’t know anybody on those planets. I’m still working off basic cable and a couple of VCRs in this house. Seriously, I really think you’ve got the wrong guy here.

It’s true. I can spin a good tale from time to time. But what good is that going to do all of us really when our bodies are somehow suspended in time while the ‘Reapers’ attempt to replicate and/or alter our DNA? (See! I know nothing about science fiction. I can’t even come up with a good illustration of what they’ll be able to do to us with me in charge.)

My point? I can’t emphasize enough how inappropriate I am for this global responsibility. Perhaps you should consider someone better qualified like, I don’t know, Barack Obama …. Leon Panetta … or, ooh, even Clint Eastwood maybe. Or … if it has to be a woman … how about Queen Elizabeth … or Ellen DeGeneres? The common denominator of all of these people is that they are well-connected.  They have resources. And people listen to them.

In summary, I’d really re-think the decision to put me in charge.  Just my two cents.  But if you need help finding someone else, this job sounds important enough that I’m happy to offer my assistance in recruiting someone. Else.

Thanks for asking though. You can’t imagine how flattered I am.

Sincerely,

Michele (ODNT)

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read to be read at yeahwrite.me

How Bad Could He Be? (For Trifextra)


Trifextra Weekend Challenge

Rules: Trifectra gives the first 33 words and we supply the last 33.

Voting: This week is open the public! Visit this link starting at 8pm EST on 3/25/12 to pick your top 3.

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Trifextra Entry #3 – How Bad Could He Be?

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“There’s nothing cute about it,” he said. The register of his voice indicated decision more so than discussion.

She disagreed heartily and privately, staring past his head and out the window behind him.

“Seriously, what the hell’s wrong with you? That beast would eat our kid in one bite.”

“Aww, Stephen. He’s a St. Bernard. They’re trained to rescue people. And Tad really wants a dog.”

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He’s probably the reason I have Milo.

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Good Kitty.

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A Collaborative Effort (For Trifextra)


Trifextra Weekend Challenge

Rules: Trifectra gives the first 33 words and we supply the last 33.

Voting: This week is open the public! Visit this link starting at 8pm EST on 3/25/12 to pick your top 3.

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Trifextra Entry #2 – A Collaborative Effort

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“There’s nothing cute about it,” he said. The register of his voice indicated decision more so than discussion.

She disagreed heartily and privately, staring past his head and out the window behind him.

“I was trying to save the house, Daddy.”

“By pretending it was haunted?!!?”

“Annie said to.”

“Who’s Annie?”

“The girl in the attic. She said this house belongs to just me … and her.”

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