The original challenge was to write 33 words in which the word “lost” appears in the title but not in the story. Today’s challenge is to add 33 more words to the original story.
The Day Frieda Flerf Got Lost in a Bag of Skittles
While eating Skittles, Frieda Flerf suddenly found herself inside the bag, pinned between a red one and a yellow one. As she began gnawing her way to freedom, she heard mama calling, “Frieda!”
When Mama Flerf heard Frieda Flerf’s screams coming from the Skittles bag, she carefully lifted Frieda out, chastised her firmly, then made her clean Barbie’s entire Dream House for eating between meals again.
Hello Dear Readers. As you may recall, from time to time, this blog takes it upon itself to try to cheer up America’s most famous Gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe.
“At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon.”
“Uh . . . Edgar, what are you doing outside at midnight? Don’t you realize it’s 1835 and antibiotics haven’t even been invented yet? It’s almost like you’re trying to catch cholera. For god’s sakes, Edgar, go home and go to bed!”
“An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim.”
“Okay, I hate to be the one to break it to you, Edgar, but the moon doesn’t have a golden rim; plus, I’m pretty sure the moon’s a boy. I really must insist you put down your pipe now and go in the house.”
“And, softly dripping , drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top”
“Now that’s a nice upbeat phrase. I like it because it’s positive. Why don’t you tell me another one while I lead you into the house. I’m just going to take you by the hand! Yikes your hand is cold!” What do you have ice cubes in your pockets?”
“The rosemary nods upon the grave; the lily lolls upon the wave”
“Sckrrrreeeechk . . . record scratch! There you go again with the graves. I don’t care if ALL your friends are dead, Ed, sitting around the graveyard moping 24/7 is just going to make things worse. Oh, and are you sure lolls is a word? You might want to double check it with your friend, Daniel Webster — if he’s still alive, that is. Ha ha. No! No! Edgar he is still alive I was just kidding. It was a joke Edgar!”
“All beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies; Irene, and with her Destinies”
“Irene? What happened to the Lenore your raven was always flapping his beak about? Oh, so now that you’re a big fancy poet you just cast Lenore aside for Irene? Lenore who stuck by you when you were a nobody? And now that you’re a big shot writer you just cast her aside for some floozy named Irene?”
“The Lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, which is enduring so be deep!”
“Hey lookee here, Edgar! I bet you’ve never seen this before? It’s called duct tape, and I’m just going to stick it over your mouth like so! There now that’s better. That’s much, much better!”
Dear Readers! What fruitful weekend I had at the Thrift Store. I was lucky enough to find this Heinz Ketchup cookbook from 1957!
Let’s take a peek inside the pages of these 1957 Heinz Ketchup Prize winning recipes and see if we can get a glimpse into the food lives of people from the past:
And the fact that Mother seems to be flirting with a gigantic tomato man wearing a manacle isn’t helping Heinz Ketchup’s credibility either . . . oh well let’s just keep moving.
Mother’s husband, Father, is probably a Nuclear Physicist who sometimes brings home radioactive isotopes from the office to put in the Ketchup bottle to freak Mother out!
That Father always with the pranks! (Too bad Mother didn’t even notice!)
Ha! That Father!Which Mother did, of course, and while she was at it decided to do a little fishing.
Of course, as you can see the radioactive isotope has caused the Heinz Ketchup bottle to fuse permanently to Mother’s hand. Father. Could. Not. Stop. Laughing.
Oh that wacky Father! He made both Boy and Girl these Ketchup bean sandwiches and is now hiding behind the Frigidaire spying on them as they try to eat their Ketchup bean sandwiches.
Right about now Father is probably thinking about how he should see if Milton Berle needs any more comedy writers!
But that’s okay because Father found and married New Mother later that day! And New Mother has just cooked Father a tasty dish of Green Beans with Ketchup!
Little does New Mother know that Father has just stuck two radioactive isotopes into the casserole dish she’s holding and Father can’t wait to see the look on New Mother’s face when she tries to set the dish down but finds that it’s fused to her hands!
Unfortunately Father didn’t get to see the look on New Mother’s face because just then the phone rang and Father ran to answer it because — who knows — it might have been that all important call from Uncle Milty!
And there you have it, Dear Readers, a glimpse into the food lives of people from the past.
The Rule of Three is a writing principle that asserts that, in writing, groups of three have the most impact. This week’s Trifecta challenge is to write 33 words using the Rule of Three somewhere among them. It is up to you to interpret the rule, just make sure to use exactly 33 words.
Dear Readers, Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Dudes and Dudettes, Babes and Babies, Presidents and Prime Ministers:
It’s time for us to say goodbye to awkward moments! Turn our backs on social faux pas and bid adieu to obnoxious behavior. For I have managed to procure for us, Dear Readers, the answers to all our problems:
Amy Vanderbilt’s Complete Book of Etiquette!
Let’s flip through some pages . . . Ah here we go!
A Guide to Tactful Conversation!
“In greeting people we say, “how do you do?” we do not really expect an answer, but it is all right to reply, “Very well, thank you,” even if it is a blue Monday and you feel far from well.” No one wants a clinical discussion in response to this purely rhetorical question.”
Amy will illustrate what she means by doing a little role playing with a Typical Person.
Amy: How do you do?
Typical Person: Does your stomach stick out like that because your preggers or are you just fat?
Amy says sorry but it is never polite to answer a question with a question. Amy says try again:
Amy: How do you do?
Typical Person: That depends . . . is that mildew smell coming from me or you?
Amy says this is better, but this reply is still in the form of a question. Amy says try again:
Amy: How do you do?
Typical Person: Who wants to know Funyun breath?
Amy says this reply is trending towards tactful but is not quite there yet. (She also says this typical person reminds her of someone but she can’t think who.) Amy says try again.
Amy says: How do you do?
Typical Person: I like Funyuns.
Yes! Very good! Amy is so proud!! Now Amy will move on to the next part of the tactful conversation lesson which covers not remembering names:
“If you are warmly greeted by someone whose name — or maybe whose face, too — you can’t recall say something harmless such as “nice to see you”. Then while looking quite attentive, let the other person do the talking until he or she gives a clue as to identity.”
Amy: Nice to see you.
Typical Person: You do not have a clue who I am, you are just pretending to look attentive but you have not been listening to a word I just said about the en-vi-RON-ment.
Amy says she likes this response because there are no contractions in it. Amy says this person reminds her of someone but she still cannot think who.
Amy: You are looking well.
Typical Person: It feels like we have been talking for one thousand, billion, million trillion hours.
Amy: Al? Al Gore? Is that you?
Typical Person, Al: Yes. Yes. Yes. It is me Al Gore. Yes. Yes. Yes.
Amy: Thanks for standing me up the other night! You have some nerve!
Typical person, Al: Sorry I cannot do anything but stand up. Plus I was out of Funyuns. Do you want to go to get some Funyuns with me?
Amy: Of course Al! You know, I cannot resist a man who does not use contractions!
Amy says that concludes our Guide to Tactful Conversation lesson one! But Amy is sure she will be back real soon to teach us more etiquette because she just cannot help herself!
This week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to take a beautiful piece of writing and “move it along” with our own 33 words. Well, OK, but it isn’t going to stay as pretty I’m afraid!
The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction. She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.
Suddenly three burly men thundered in.”We’ve come for the last strains of sunlight — F. Scott Fitzgerald is having a literary emergency!” And they began prying sunlight’s fingers from all available points of refraction.
Hello Dear Readers! Good News. Lookee what I got in the mail!
The Great Courses want me back! This could only mean one of two things: either they want me back because they somehow found out I hate school, and they think I need to step it up education-wise OR they’ve got me mixed up with somebody else. I suspect the latter or maybe the former. (I’ve never really known the difference.)
Apparently The Great Coursesdon’t know I’ve hated school since the second day of first grade. Oh sure, the first day was fun but then a pattern of no fun started developing, and it was all downhill from there on out.
Anywayz,(yeah you heard me Great Courses I said anywayz — you gonna do somethin’ about it? Yeah? . . . you and what university? . . . .) Anywayz, like I was saying, apparently it is this guy who thinks I need to take some courses.
Now I’m not saying that Robert M. Hazen is not as wonderful as he himself thinks he is (and no you may NOT call him Bob), I’m just saying that the look in Robert’s eye is a little unsettling — even if he has deemed himself to be in the top 1 % of professors in the world.
And how did he go about deeming himself thusly? Well, it was easy (for him).
First he took the number of teaching awardshe has accumulated and divided it by the number of evaluations he’s had published. Then, he took that number or “quotient” (as the top 1% professors call it) and multiplied it by the number of newspaper write ups featuring none other than Robert M. Hazen Ph.D, Harvard University! . . . . Harvard University! . . . . .Harvard university! . . . . . university!(Robert was going to get that echo fixed but he’s decided he kinda likes it.)
So what if Robert M. Hazen didn’t ask any of the students who took classes from him what they thought! Who gives a hoot what they think — they’re students . . . ew!
So here’s one of the “Great Courses” Robert is offering for twenty bucks but he’s quick to point out that it is 75% off and which made it $760 originally (arithmetic may vary) . Here it is:
Not only will Robert be teachingwhat he knows about the unsolved mysteries of the universe, he will, for no extra charge, be teaching everything he doesn’t know about the universe! A subject about which top 1 % professor, Robert could drone on and on for year and years or his name isn’t Robert M. Hazen Ph.D., Harvard University . . . . Harvard University! . . . . .Harvard university! . . . . . university!
Hey guess what? Robert loves that echo so much he’s decided to get one installed in his house! You go Robert!
When I was growing up,we always had lots of kitties living with us. There was Taffy May and Buzzel and Merv — but the kitty that stands out the most in my mind is Clark.
Clark was the kitty my mother got my brothers and I to help ease the pain of the divorce. We moved to a new town after that and took Clark with us.
Unfortunately, the only way we could have Clark in our new place was if we agreed to have him de-clawed.
For some reason, in 1965, landlords thought that one little kitty could destroy an entire property.
Thinking back, it was a horrible thing to do to our beloved Clark, and I hope it is a practice that has long since been abandoned. For you see, Clark was never quite right in the head after that.
Clark had a chipon his shoulder and he liked to take it out on bare legs. God help you if you walked by him in shorts, he would attack by jumping on your legs and sliding slowly down them like he was a fireman.
Clark also had a weak stomach. Every couple of days or so, he would meow in a certain way just before loosing his lunch. When we finally caught on to this idiosyncrasy of his and when we heard “the call” my mother would always yell for one of us to get Clark and hold him over the toilet.
This became a pretty regular routine. One day my brothers got the genius idea to impersonate Clark’s up-chuck distress call.
This proved to be great funespecially when our friends were over. If things started getting dull or the conversation would lull, somebody would impersonate Clark’s up-chuck distress call and without missing a beat my mother would yell from the other room, “Quick somebody get Clark and hold him over the toilet!”
At this point in time, we also had very old furniture and our couch had holes in it. My mother was always sewing them up to prevent someone from falling through.
One day my mother couldn’t find her reading glasses and surmised that they must have fallen off while she was sewing up the couch.
So here we all were— a room full of teenagers — watching TV. In walks my mother with a pair of scissors and asks one of the boys to scoot over a little, he complies whereupon my mother cuts a hole in the couch, reaches in, pulls out her reading glasses, puts them on and leaves the room without saying a word.
Five minutes latersomeone gave the, by now, infamous up-chuck distress call to which my wonderful mother responded in true Pavlovian fashion by yelling from the other room,
“Quick, somebody get Clark and hold him over the toilet! “
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”
We want you to do the same. Sum up anything you want, but do it in three words. Your response should mirror Frost’s quote by beginning, “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about–.” And the last four words are yours to choose.”
In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about schizophrenia: just be yourselves.