Friday Fictioneers: The Trouble with Little Poindexter

Welcome Dear Readers!  In, this, The Golden Age of Blogging, another day means another story. And so, let us now turn our attention to this weird and wonderful picture of a giant bee provided as a story prompt for the weekly Friday Fictioneers 100-word story writing challenge.

Friday Fictioneers Linda Vernon Humor

If you look closely behind the bee’s left foot, you can barely make out Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our Friday Fictioneers’ hostess, sewing us some Official Friday Fictioneer Uniforms!   She’s still having a little trouble with those French cuffs. But she’s doing her best so please everyone stop nagging her!

Until then, Rochelle says we should write a 100-word story about the giant bee picture provided courtesy of Jennifer Pendagast at Elmowrites.

The Trouble with Little Poindexter

I’m worried about our little Poindexter, Arthur.

You worry too much, Martha.

 But Poindexter’s so different from other children, Arthur.

Different  how?

He’s big for his age, and he only eats pollen.  And then there’s his–

His what?

Well none of the other children have antennas, Arthur!

Are you saying he’s a freak?

No, no of course not!  It’s just that . . .

That what?

Well today he stung one of his classmates and had to stay after class.

Did you have a talk with him?

I tried to.

And?

He told me to buzz off.

And there you have it, Dear Readers.  I’m happy to say this story passed the finish line at exactly 100 words.

Until next time . . . I love you

33-Word Trifecta Writing Challenge: Shades of Clayton

Welcome Dear Readers!  This weekend’s 33-word Trifecta Writing Challenge is as follows:  Give us a thirty-three word piece that has a color in it. Use the color to describe anything you like, or use anything you like to describe your color, but keep it creative and keep it short. 

I chose this colorful picture of my grandson, Clayton, to write about today.

colors!

Shades of Clayton

Propeller’s blue, steering’s green

With shades of Mickey in-between

Here’s a fellow, who likes yellow

A mellow little yellow fellow

But his pants this poem will sabotage

Cause there ain’t no color camouflage

My Brain, Peanuts, Notices Some Little Things

Hello Dear Readers and welcome!  Before we go kicking and screaming (in a good way) into the weekend, I thought it would be fun to share with you some random things that crossed the path of my brain, Peanuts.

  You want me to throw what in where?

 

Someone stuck a sign on the trash can outside my grocery store directing passersby to only throw “trash” into it.

Apparently so many people have been throwing stuff in there that’s not trash, the grocery store employees were unable to get any work done so they had to make a sign for the trash can that says “Trash.”

Well who can blame them?  They are probably sick and tired of people throwing away bag after bag of perfectly good cash or bag after bag of perfectly good puppies or bag after bag of perfectly good babies.

These people have work to do people!

And their job descriptions do not include fishing large amounts of cash and/or puppies or the occasional baby out of the trash all the live-long day!  Do you mind?

 Now that’s the attitood I like to sea!

Here’s a nice little sign I saw while waiting in line at Fresh Choice. As you can see, they offer salads to go Mon – Fry only.  You’ll also notice they are offering their customers a special as well, but they are being kind of crabby about it.  The sign tells us it’s $4.99 Salad Bar Only but it sort of feels like what they really wanted to say was $4.99 Salad Bar Only You Stupid Idiot.

Here’s bit of wonderful news from junk mail:

Now that’s a handy piece of news from the National Association for Continence!  I am totally amazed that two out of three people with bladder control symptoms (and what symptoms are those? . . .  well, we can guess can’t we?)  don’t do ANYTHING about it — which means . . . well, let’s not think about.

I am more amazed, however, that there is actually someone walking around right this very minute with a business card that reads:

National Association for Continence, Managing Director

Which proves, once again, Dear Readers, that it’s the little things that make life worth living! Have a wonderful weekend!

Until next time . . . I love you

Friday Fictioneers: Fly Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

Welcome Dear Readers!  My philosophy of life can be summed up by Lou Grant from the old Mary Tyler Moore show when he said, “You’re born, you die and everything in between is filler.” 

And I can’t think of a more fun “filler” than writing a hundred words inspired by  Friday Fictioneers  picture prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at Addicted to Purple.

This week’s picture is provided by Douglas M. McIlroy over at Ironwoodwind.

maui-from-mauna-kea

Fly like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee  

 If I had an apparatus

To keep me in the misty stratus

If I could hang out in the air

With the billowy things that live up there

 I think, at first, it would be fun

I’d be best friends with everyone

I’d say I like you!  Yes I do!

You are my best friends, brave and true

But then before my very eyes

You’d change into some apple pies

You’d switch it up

 (You’d be so wiley)

You’re Cher! . . .  No wait! . . . Charles Nelson Riley?

 Who could keep up? Who could cope?

I’d become Muhammad’s rope a dope

* * * 

Until next time . . . I love you

Screw It Monday: Pictures of Stuff on My Desk

The Bored Family

Welcome, Dear Readers.  Do you ever wake up in “one of those moods”  where the whole world is just one big ball of bleh?  

Well, this blog is officially announcing a new holiday.

National Bleh Day!  

And in honor of National Bleh Day, let’s do something bleh by taking stupid pictures of the stuff on our desks.  Here, I’ll get us started:

desk 1
Bleh doesn’t really get any more Bleh than this. The centerpiece of this picture is the spoon I ate my cereal with. I don’t know what happened to the bowl. I think I might have accidentally eaten it. How does it fee to eat a bowl?  Frankly, I don’t even remember it.
Here's the Old Fogey cereal that was in the bowl I ate.  It's got fiber and 80 calories so I ate four (4) bowls which probably means I ate the same amount of calories and sugar as two maple bars.  Why didn't I just eat Maple Bars instead?  Because today is National Bleh day.  And what better way to Bleh Out!
Here’s the Old-Fogey cereal that was in the bowl I ate. It’s got fiber and 80 calories so I ate four (4) bowls which probably means I ate the same amount of calories and sugar as two maple bars. Why didn’t I just eat two Maple Bars instead? Because today is National Bleh Day which I am beginning to hate already.
Here's a notebook I've had in my desk drawer for probably 6 years.  Just judging from this note I made myself, you can kind of see why I'm always missing appointments and why I'm not a millionaire.  I start to doodling half-way through every note rendering every note I've ever made totally useless.  Frankly that's one of the reasons I've started National Bleh Day.  So I can finally get some use out of all this pointless stuff I have/
Here’s a notebook I’ve had in my desk drawer for probably 6 years. Just judging from this note I made myself, you can kind of see why I’m always missing appointments and why I’m not a millionaire. I start  doodling half-way through every note rendering it totally useless. Frankly, that’s one of the reasons I’ve started National Bleh Day. So I can finally get some use out of all this pointless stuff I have. ( I would have turned this vertically so you could read it better, but what with it being National Bleh Day, why bother?)
How much more uninspiring can this picture get?  The answer is none more inspiring
How much more  Bleh can this picture get? The answer is none more Bleh.  I probably went to too much work for this picture as it is.   Anyway, that pen is the pen I sometimes use when I need to write something with a pen.  The nail polish I have on right now (see below).  That’s my coffee in the background (it’s cold).  And that little green block is something I bought one time.  Why?  
Okay, here's what the nail polish looks like on my fingernails.  I know they kind of look like my toes, but their not.  My toes are shorter and fatter.  I kind of like clear nail polish because when it chips off, you don't really notice.  Who do I even bother with the clear?  Well, it's the kind of thing one contemplates on National Bleh Day.
Okay, here’s what the nail polish looks like on my fingernails. I know they kind of look like my toes, but they’re not.  My toes are shorter and fatter. I kind of like clear nail polish because when it chips off, you don’t really notice.
But then you have to ask yourself, if you can’t tell if it’s chipped, it probably doesn’t show enough to even bother with.
I don’t’ know whether to put a question mark after the above sentence because I can’t tell if it’s a question or not.
See this is the kind of stuff discussed on National Bleh Day.  Aren’t you glad I started National Bleh Day? No? Me neither. (Wait . . . did  I just agree or disagree with myself?)
Oh hey!  Here's an old piece of candy I found in my desk.  It looks old.  It looks like it would taste pretty Bleh.
Oh hey! Here’s a piece of candy I found in my desk. It looks old.  It looks like it would taste pretty Bleh.  Let’s find out shall we?
Yup I was right.  It does taste Bleh.  Probably because I think it's been in my desk drawer since 2012.  Of course, that doesn't stop me from eating the whole stale piece.  Why?  Because that's what people do on National Bleh Day.
Yup I was right. It does taste pretty Bleh. Probably because I think it’s been in my desk drawer since 2009. Of course, that won’t  stop me from eating the whole stale piece. Why? Because that’s what people do on National Bleh Day.

And there you have it, Dear Reader, our very first celebration of National Bleh Day.  I hope your day will be as bland, and mediocre and uneventful  as is humanly possible on, this, our very first National Bleh Day!

Until next time . . . I love you

El Guapo Writes a Story

 Dear Readers!  Good News!  I am overwhelmed to announce that one brave blogger has stepped up to this blog’s story-writing challenge  by using not just one . . . not just two . . . but  ALL TEN WRITING PROMPTS!  which were presented here yesterday.

Who is this Death-Defying Wordsmith?  This Participle-Dangling Daredevil? This Purger of Profundity?  (Okay I’ll stop now.)  

Why it’s none other than our Beloved, El Guapo, The Friday Foolishness Frontiersman of WordPress!

The Adventures of El Guapo and His Side-kick, Abraham Lincoln

1)  Abraham Lincoln was using his axe to prune the Rhododendron. He was doing this because he was grumpy that when he was done he would need to transplant an organ at the church. Then he was grumpy for the sake of being grumpy for the number 2 (2) and no reason besides that.

While it was odd that Abe Lincoln was out doing this kind of work (especially in the 21st century, it really was his own fault. (3) He had shot the gardener, Fats, (Fats had a green thumb.) (Literally, as he was an alien.), in the Skinny part of his throat after Fats told him he could no longer wear the Hideous stove-pipe hat.

He also shot him because Fats had a Tragically awful habit of capitalizing adjectives. It was later that afternoon that Abe realized Fats may have been so skinny due to genetics, or possibly because of a tragic accident. (That was after he saw a (4) steamroller flatten a poor woman from something resembling a Sputnik to something the thickness of a harpsichord.) (The sight almost ruined his lunch. “Oy Vey” he lamented into his tibbs and pickles sandwich at his favorite sandwich shop, They Call Me Mr Tibbs.) (But his appetite came back since he was so tired. Organ transplanting really”takes it out of you”)  Editor’s note: Author has been slapped for that awful joke above.

After lunch, Abe went to see his friend (5) Hum Cwart, who he always called Kumquat. Even though Hum wasn’t green or an alien. It’s a sad fact that Hum couldn’t see Abe, or even see that Abe was mispronouncing the name. But that’s another story. The fifth, I believe. Now for those who don’t know, Abe was a statesman, known best for his dealings with the Chinese. Or at least General Tso, and his delightful companions known as (6)Wang-Lang and Lang-Wang.

He never knew their last names because they never used them. Now, as it happens, since they gave up smoking, the Ang-Angs (as Abe called them) became dress makers. They made dresses because they could test them by dancing in them to work off all the nervous energy from not smoking. They made a dress for their dear client (7) Lucy.

As a surprise, her husband Ricky picked it up, and the Ang-Angs told him that even though it was expensive, it was their best dunce dress. Ricky was so angry, and dragged Lucy into the store yelling at her for buying a stupid dress. Realizing the misunderstanding, the Ang-Angs donned the dress (together, for they were very thin), and demonstrated it was a “dance” dress, being careful this time to enunciate. Ricky was so ashamed, but Lucy said the studio audience loved it and off they went. As the Ang-Angs were reminiscing,

Abe interrupted, saying “Something smells rotten in Denmark”. Most people would say that was a euphemism, but Abe was well known for his scenting ability and the prowess of his schnoz. In fact, he had famously versed (8) “The nose knows the woes of those what owes the toes”, which was accepted as very profound by those who had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

What Abe,  in fact,  would have loved to be talking about was (9) women behind women behind woman, all oiled up. But Abe was shy and didn’t think that kind of talk was appropriate in mixed company, shaken or stirred. So with nothing left to do, (10) Abe mounted his trusty horse, Glue, and headed back to the 1850s to invent the stapler.

For their efforts, I am officially awarding El Guapo and his sidekick, Abraham Lincoln, this hastily made  much coveted trophy:

El Guapo and Abe

I think you’ll agree that nobody deserves this trophy more than El Guapo  — with the possible exception of Abraham Lincoln.

Until next time . . . I love you