Monthly Archives: December 2010

Frank and Benny

Inspired by “Microfiction Monday
where a picture paints 140 characters, or even fewer.”


I ain’t no stool pigeon, Benny!
Frank, I wanna believe ya but-
Held captive by the exchange below, they never saw the boy or his weapon..

~ 139 characters ~

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Remember us’n, Shorty an Thelma?

We’s down the country road right past that there pole wit the hanging fish heads.  Thems up all year, not to be mistaken for Christmas decor.  We got that covered here at the park.  We’s the ones wit the lights on our trailor that stays on year round.  Pa’s real smart tha way, not like some folk who waste time taking em down after Christmas, just to put em all back up come next December.  Some people, shees.

We’re not the ones who hung the deer in the tree and strung the lights on him.  Na sir, that there would be our cousin JJ but his ol lady made him take that stuff down this year.

Cousin Billy Bob, Jr. lives two trailor’s down.  He’s the one with the Bud Light Christmas tree.  But I guess you wont be a seein all that this year since yous lettin your Cousin Bubba Claus come instead.

Tell him we’ve gots him his RC and Moon Pie awaitin.  We’d give him pork rinds, but Betty Sue strung them on the tree.  Looks real purty, too.  Yes, sir! 

Well, iffen you’d could tell Bubba that this year we’ll be needin new overhalls, not them fancy stripeed kind, jus regular ones.  Joe Bob Billy would like a new set of uppers since Cousin Kay took his when he brought a U-Hall to her ma’s wake (even though she claims it was her brother Darrell..  I never knowd which Brother Darrell she was a speakin of though).  He’s horrid awful to listen to now.  Ma needs some new under garments ‘cuz I’m tired of her using my drawers – there is no support in em and I’m afraid she jus might hurt her herself now that she’s takin up jogging.  She’s already caused two wrecks.  And Arnie needs some long sleeved shirts to cover up that misspelled tattoo.  He had no ideal, poor boy.  Well, I guess that’s all.

Thank you!

Written for Carry on Tuesday Christmas‘ prompt:  Dear Santa.  🙂

Winter Walk

Inspired by “Microfiction Monday
where a picture paints 140 characters, or even fewer.”

“As a kid in Holland, we walked for miles to Grandma’s for Christmas! In the snow! With tree, gifts, and a pig; we wore shorts!” he barked.

~ 140 Characters ~


Decking the Halls with
Expectation & Excitement because
Christmas is coming and Santa Claus!
Evergreens and
Mistletoe, memories of long ago 
Birth of Christ celebrated
Eve of Christmas and a New Year anticipated!
Rejoicing with loved ones far and near!

Merry Christmas!

Written for Sunday Scribblings

Advent Calendar

I’m looking for a perfect Advent calendar!  Too late to use all 24 days this year, but if I make it now, I will be able to use it next year and beyond! 

I really like the idea of using tiny stockings, because I may even have 24 of those!

So far, here are the best ideas I’ve found:

Martha Stewart’s Baby Socks:


These bags are really cute!

This Muffin Tin one is SWEET!  
Another muffin tin –
And another –

Mittens Advent Calendar – love the idea!

Love the Elves (I think they would make CUTE advent – maybe out of toilet paper rolls –  and other ideas here –

The Altoids Calendar is a great idea!

Soup Can Advent Calendar

Maybe I’ll actually get this project done before Dec 25!  : )

Sarah and the Elf

This week the prompt is: “What was he thinking? OMG! Elves are soooo 2009…”

 “What was he thinking? OMW! Elves are soooo 2009…”  
Sarah stared in disbelief at her boyfriend of only two weeks. She’d worked so hard to have a boyfriend by Christmas, too! She wasn’t sure what was worse the pointy shoes or the jingling hat, but he was no Will Farrow! Even worse, his song list included Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” and Wham’s “Last Christmas”, but no Gene Autry and no Nat King Cole? Not even Bing!
They were so done! But not until after the holidays or as soon as she could hook up with someone new. Whichever came first. 

Word Count:  93
Written for  Saturday Centus


I heard about you from a friend who
Heard from her second cousin once removed
By the time I met you face to face
Your technique had improved
You took me in your embrace
Charm dabbled from your lips
You leaned in  and uttered
“I love you” in my ear
Was this love or something other?
I wanted to believe so I didn’t ask
I kept the role of friend, mate, and lover
Soon the tower we built began to lean
You broke your vow and chose another.

You heard it from a friend who
Heard from her second cousin once removed
‘Though you refused to believe it was true
I was better off without you – improved
You tried to win me back but only to see if you could
You couldn’t – I’m stronger now and wiser too
Thank you!

Written for 3WW’s prompt: dabble, lean, utter
Comments, Corrections,  and Critiques welcome!

The Saint and the Sinner


Catholic churches always creep me out a little with all their bizarre rituals, pedophile priests, and statues and paintings with dead eyes that follow your every move.  But I knew it gave her comfort, so I followed her inside and waited at the back while she went forward to do her thing.  When I looked up and saw the byzantinesque virgin mother staring down at her child, I turned around and walked out back out into the world.  I turned my collar up and leaned against the building before taking out my pack of smokes and lighting a cigarette.  An old woman glared up at me as she passed by; I pretended not to notice. 

Children were playing in the empty lot across the street.  Christmas music was being played loudly from someone’s stereo.  I flicked my ashes and took a deep breath; the air smelled like the snow the weatherman predicted for this evening.  The heavy church door opened.  Under the hood of her white cloak, Mary’s cheeks were rosy and her blue eyes shone with contentment. 

“Much.  It lifts my spirits just being inside, smelling the old polished wood, Father White with his kind words and gentle ways, and the saints depicted throughout.  It’s like coming home, isn’t it, Kevin?”

Kevin nodded.

“I knew you felt the same way!” Mother was so wrong about him, Mary thought to herself as she reached for his hand.

A bit of fiction written for Magpie Tales.
Comments and Critiques welcome!

Please ignore any ads below.



                                                  Rich dark chocolate, freshly brewed
                                                 Sure puts me in the Christmas mood!        C
                                                 Peppermint stick and cinnamon spice              O
                                                   oft adds flavor to my Christmas vice.              C
                                                     Best savored in a fancy china cup            O
                                                        I thank the Lord and sip it up           A 
                                                                Giving cold whipped
                                                                 Cream a final twirl, 
                                                     This ole’ woman becomes a girl!

Linking to One Stop Poetry‘s OSW today  : )

Not Waving but Drowning

 Written for Carry On Tuesday’s prompt:
Not Waving but Drowning 
Joe was 63 when he retired from the factory.  He went to work for the factory when he was a young man of 25.  After 38 years, Joe had had enough.  He hated his job but it came with benefits and a great retirement plan.  Which was all he talked about, how he would finally have time to enjoy all the things that he would do once he was no longer a “rat in the rat race”. 
He told his co-workers all about the vacation that he and Edna would enjoy. Their first real vacation in at least a decade.  They had saved for years.  They were finally going to take the cruise that he had always promised her.  How was he to know that 6 months before his retirement day, cancer would claim his dear wife and he would give his tickets to her sister. 
Folks would pass by his house and see him sitting out on the front porch; they would wave and he would return their wave.  Only those close to him understood that he was not waving but drowning