OldDogNewTits












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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{March 30, 2012}   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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{March 28, 2012}   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\

3 a : of inferior quality or worth : tawdry, sleazy <cheapworkmanship>
b : contemptible because of lack of any fine, lofty, or redeeming qualities <feeling cheap>

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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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{March 27, 2012}   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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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




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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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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I did something I NEVER do today. I saw a movie (a BIG one, I might add) on its opening day. I’d give you three guesses as to the movie but, the way I’ve been carrying on lately, I’m sure you know it was Hunger Games. No, I did not stand in line with a bunch of teenagers at midnight. I went with a group of friends, the same ones I mentioned in my second prequel post.

We are adults. So, we did it in a very civilized way. We purchased our tickets in advance for a very upscale, modern theater in New Orleans, where you have to be 18 to enter. Their tagline is Gourmet Food. Full Bar. Luxury Seating.  I took advantage of all three.

We settled into our oversized comfy chairs (akin to the quality of first class air travel) and pressed a button for the waitress. Jen and I split the cheese plate, described as a selection of four cheeses served with breads and fig mostarda, assorted flatbread and crackers.  I also ordered the Angelo Brocato’s Italian Cookie Plate because I’m a sucker for fig cookies. And, for my beverage, I wanted The Dawn Patrol (house-made fig brandy, Patron Citronage Orange Liqueur, sour mix, splash of house-made vanilla cinnamon brown sugar simple syrup and satsuma twist) to complete my Trifecta of fig cuisine. But, alas, they were out of the necessary brandy so I opted for a Trivento Malbec and sat back to wait for the movie.

The food arrived for most of us almost immediately so we began eating (a difficult task, considering it was knife and fork fare and we were in near darkness) over the movie trailers.  I saw one for Dark Shadows, a Tim Burton movie featuring none other than Johnny Depp, that I filed away for my summer wish list. Then, I saw another, the most unusual today, for something called Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Let me just say … I SO wish I had thought of this movie title. It would also be a great name for a band, wouldn’t it?

Anyway … jumping ahead majorly … I really enjoyed the movie, for which I sat on the edge of my seat the majority of the time.  Even though, unlike (almost) ever before in my lifetime, I had actually read the book first and thus knew what was going to happen. Except, of course, when the screenplay strayed from the original story.

The question … Was it as good as the book?  The answer … Is it ever?

There’s always far too much that needs to be omitted when something is culled down from the page to the screen.  Much must be sacrificed. But, then again, the movie affords you the delight of seeing some of the fictional characters come to life through real people like Stanley Tucci, Woody Harrelson and Lenny Kravitz. I so loved all of them in this movie.

Am I going to tell you anything else about the movie? 

Absolutely not. This story is one that no one wants spoiled for them.  I’ve literally shushed and been shushed by total strangers when discussing the book in public. It’s a cult. And I’m a kool-aid drinking, tambourine-beating, bald girl selling flowers at the airport.  I’m all in.

One last thing though … to the women in the ladies room after the show, the main character’s name is KATNISS EVERDEEN, not Candace Aberdeen.  If you read the book, you’d know that. (Look at me … getting all uppity about book learnin’.)

Haven’t seen it yet? Let me tempt you …

Thanks, Ashley, Vanessa, Jen, Melissa and Mignon, for bringing me today.

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It’s Trifextra Weekend Challenge time and this one’s up for a public vote. The polls open for 12 hours starting on Sunday, March 25 at 8pm EST. Click here to view all the entries and pick your top three. The submissions are short so it doesn’t take long to get through them.  I’d love your vote … but it’s just not in my nature to tell you want to do. I am not the boss of you!
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Rules this Week: Trifecta provides the first 33 words and entrants need to complete the story in only 33 additional words. The words provided by Trifecta are in bold and my entry follows.

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Trifextra Entry – The Fight on the Way Home in the Limo

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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.

“Damn it, Angie. The blood vials, making out with James and now this freaky leg thing. You know it’s got its own Twitter page? We’ve got six kids now. Chill the hell out.”

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{March 21, 2012}   An Ode to 1983

Here’s my goofy, little entry for this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge. I often go with the first idea that pops into my head.  This was one of those times.

RULES: All entries must be between 33 and 333 words and need to include the following word using its third definition:

clean (adjective)

1: free from dirt or pollution
2: unadulterated, pure
3 a : free from moral corruption or sinister connections of any kind <a candidate with a clean record>

   b : free from offensive treatment of sexual subjects and from the use of obscenity <a clean joke>
   c : observing the rules : fair <a clean fight>

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A year in the life of my childhood

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The year was 1983

The times? They were so simple

Cabbage patch dolls everywhere

So hideously-dimpled

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Reagan was the president

And Swatch entered the scene

As did jellies, Rubik’s cubes,

And McNuggets as cuisine

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My fashion was inspired by

Madonna, Flashdance, Lauper

‘Cause MTV was everywhere

So I looked like a pauper

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The music was my favorite

Boom box on every shoulder

From Dexy, Prince or Men at Work

(It so sucks getting older)

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For film, we had The Outsiders,

Big Chill and Valley Girl

And Vacation with Chevy Chase

Gave the Griswolds to the world

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But I was still a little girl

My parents weren’t mean

They just wanted to be sure

What I saw and heard was clean

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Enter Mr. Cosby

And his one-man show ‘Himself’

I must have pulled it fifty times

Off our VHS tape shelf

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The jokes, they were all perfect

The dentist chair he faked

I won’t forget the joke about

“Dad gave us chocolate cake!”

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Thank you for the memories

Of this, a lifetime chapter

But most of all I thank you, Bill

For all my family’s laughter

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Please enjoy this little blast from my past.

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et cetera
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