A.F. Stewart's Blog, page 83
December 31, 2014
Drabble Wednesday: New Year’s Eve
Here’s the strange and slightly out of this world New Year’s Eve edition of Drabble Wednesday…
A Glitch in Time
Tick, tick, tickThe sound in my head, always time tick-tocking.Tick, tick, tick.Shut it off! Stop the clockwork, stop the sound!Tick, tick, tickSomething’s wrong, not right, always the noise, always the clockwork in my head.Tick, tick, tickTick-tock. Goes the clock. Always in my head. Wish I were dead.Tick, tick, tickMake it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!Tick, tick, tickWhat can I do? For silence, for quiet? All I want is quiet.Tick, tick, tickBut what’s a mechanical man to do, when the clockwork is him?Tick, tick, tick
Mystical Renewal
I watched as the crows flew past the shining moon, like flowing black ink over parchment. The lunar beauty dominated the sky, even overshadowing the darkening clouds. It was a perfect night to usher in a new year.I poured the sanctified oil, shaping a circle in the snow, and knelt inside its confines, cold seeping into my bones. I bent my head and intoned the ritual prayer, extending my hands in supplication. For three breaths, I felt nothing, then the blessed radiance of the moon flowed into my flesh and blood. Suspended between earth and heaven before I transformed.
New Year’s Moon
~Base Dispatch News~
Well, Moon Base Alpha decked the halls for Christmas, and transformed the dining hall into a moonlight ballroom for New Year’s Eve. The party boasted a Dance Under the Stars theme with the latest holographic decorations.Base personnel partied hard, donning festive hats and downing drinks. There were the usual indiscretions and high jinks, and chaotic excitement when Lieutenant Mills’ Flashineger Beastie got out its cage and knocked over the Orion cocktails. However, it was the midnight countdown that set everyone abuzz. No one expected our commander to bare his backside to ring in the New Year.
A Glitch in Time
Tick, tick, tickThe sound in my head, always time tick-tocking.Tick, tick, tick.Shut it off! Stop the clockwork, stop the sound!Tick, tick, tickSomething’s wrong, not right, always the noise, always the clockwork in my head.Tick, tick, tickTick-tock. Goes the clock. Always in my head. Wish I were dead.Tick, tick, tickMake it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!Tick, tick, tickWhat can I do? For silence, for quiet? All I want is quiet.Tick, tick, tickBut what’s a mechanical man to do, when the clockwork is him?Tick, tick, tick
Mystical Renewal
I watched as the crows flew past the shining moon, like flowing black ink over parchment. The lunar beauty dominated the sky, even overshadowing the darkening clouds. It was a perfect night to usher in a new year.I poured the sanctified oil, shaping a circle in the snow, and knelt inside its confines, cold seeping into my bones. I bent my head and intoned the ritual prayer, extending my hands in supplication. For three breaths, I felt nothing, then the blessed radiance of the moon flowed into my flesh and blood. Suspended between earth and heaven before I transformed.
New Year’s Moon
~Base Dispatch News~
Well, Moon Base Alpha decked the halls for Christmas, and transformed the dining hall into a moonlight ballroom for New Year’s Eve. The party boasted a Dance Under the Stars theme with the latest holographic decorations.Base personnel partied hard, donning festive hats and downing drinks. There were the usual indiscretions and high jinks, and chaotic excitement when Lieutenant Mills’ Flashineger Beastie got out its cage and knocked over the Orion cocktails. However, it was the midnight countdown that set everyone abuzz. No one expected our commander to bare his backside to ring in the New Year.
December 27, 2014
32 Seconds by J. K. Pitcairn
Today, the blog is a stop on the virtual book tour for the novel 32 Seconds by talented author, Johanna K. Pitcairn. There's a spotlight, a bit about the author, and a few fun facts about the book and its writer. So read on, and enjoy!
32 Seconds by J. K. Pitcairn
To the average onlooker, the city of Los Angeles represents glitz, glamour, and the celebrity lifestyle. But to seventeen-year-old Julie Jones, the city is a vast host of problems she’s longing to get away from. The latest? An unfortunate disagreement with her ex-boyfriend Mark—one that could land her in some serious hot water.
So rather than face the troubles that torment her, Julie decides to run away from her old life and start fresh somewhere new. But her parents aren't on board with the plan, and she soon finds her bank accounts frozen and her wallet empty.
With just seventy-five dollars and a full tank of gas, the troubled teen is far too stubborn to turn around and head home. So what’s a girl to do?
What Julie doesn't know is that her travels are about to take her somewhere unexpected—a place where she’ll be forced to come face to face with the ghosts of her past in order to secure her future.
A tale of redemption, hope, and freedom lost and found, 32 Seconds is a thought-provoking exploration into the human spirit and the nature of forgiveness.
Available on Amazon
Random Fun Facts:
1) To trigger my inspiration, I binge on Netflix. I pick shows from any genre, and study the dialog and the plot. I also watch video game walkthroughs on YouTube. It's a great help to develop my characters.
2) I can't remember the last time I've had a bad case of writer's block. Plotting helps eliminate that issue.
3) My biggest pet peeves: misspellings, grammatical errors, and inconsistent formatting.
4) Julie Jones has named her car "Bubble", and when she swears, she says things like "shizzle", "shizzle nizzle" or "crapola in a peanut butter jar".
5) The original title for the first draft of the story, before it became 32 Seconds, was Death by Chocolate.
6) Julie Jones loves In&Out burgers, and strawberry milkshakes.
7) Julie is also a surfer. Her favorite beach is the one in Oceanside, CA.
8) I'm a cat lover. I have four cats, and they all distract me from writing by taking turns and lying on top of my laptop.
About the Author:
Johanna K. Pitcairn has dreamed of becoming a writer since childhood--authoring her first novel at the age of nine, and countless poems, stories, and screenplays by the age of seventeen. Later, rather than pursuing a career as a director and screenwriter, she decided to go to law school, driven by her father's opinion that "writing does not pay the bills."
Ten years later, she moved to New York City, which inspired her to go back to the excitement, wonder, and constant change of being a writer. Pitcairn is a huge fan of psychological-thriller novels and movies, and delves into her hopes, fears, friends, enemies, and everything in between in her own writing.
Contact the Author:
Website I Blog I Facebook I Twitter I Goodreads IThe Independent Author Network
');
32 Seconds by J. K. Pitcairn
To the average onlooker, the city of Los Angeles represents glitz, glamour, and the celebrity lifestyle. But to seventeen-year-old Julie Jones, the city is a vast host of problems she’s longing to get away from. The latest? An unfortunate disagreement with her ex-boyfriend Mark—one that could land her in some serious hot water.So rather than face the troubles that torment her, Julie decides to run away from her old life and start fresh somewhere new. But her parents aren't on board with the plan, and she soon finds her bank accounts frozen and her wallet empty.
With just seventy-five dollars and a full tank of gas, the troubled teen is far too stubborn to turn around and head home. So what’s a girl to do?
What Julie doesn't know is that her travels are about to take her somewhere unexpected—a place where she’ll be forced to come face to face with the ghosts of her past in order to secure her future.
A tale of redemption, hope, and freedom lost and found, 32 Seconds is a thought-provoking exploration into the human spirit and the nature of forgiveness.
Available on Amazon
Random Fun Facts:
1) To trigger my inspiration, I binge on Netflix. I pick shows from any genre, and study the dialog and the plot. I also watch video game walkthroughs on YouTube. It's a great help to develop my characters.
2) I can't remember the last time I've had a bad case of writer's block. Plotting helps eliminate that issue.
3) My biggest pet peeves: misspellings, grammatical errors, and inconsistent formatting.
4) Julie Jones has named her car "Bubble", and when she swears, she says things like "shizzle", "shizzle nizzle" or "crapola in a peanut butter jar".
5) The original title for the first draft of the story, before it became 32 Seconds, was Death by Chocolate.
6) Julie Jones loves In&Out burgers, and strawberry milkshakes.
7) Julie is also a surfer. Her favorite beach is the one in Oceanside, CA.
8) I'm a cat lover. I have four cats, and they all distract me from writing by taking turns and lying on top of my laptop.
About the Author:
Johanna K. Pitcairn has dreamed of becoming a writer since childhood--authoring her first novel at the age of nine, and countless poems, stories, and screenplays by the age of seventeen. Later, rather than pursuing a career as a director and screenwriter, she decided to go to law school, driven by her father's opinion that "writing does not pay the bills."
Ten years later, she moved to New York City, which inspired her to go back to the excitement, wonder, and constant change of being a writer. Pitcairn is a huge fan of psychological-thriller novels and movies, and delves into her hopes, fears, friends, enemies, and everything in between in her own writing.
Contact the Author:
Website I Blog I Facebook I Twitter I Goodreads IThe Independent Author Network
');
December 24, 2014
Drabble Wednesday: Christmas Eve
Here’s the Christmas Eve edition of Drabble Wednesday, with three holiday stories full of wacky Christmas cheer…
Santa Got Pulled Over By A Policeman(In Canada)
A red and white blur sped past the cop in the parked cruiser. The officer plunked his Tim Horton’s coffee in the cup holder, flicked on the lights and sirens, and gave chase to the speeder. Within minutes, he had the offender pulled over.“You know you were going 70 in a 50 kilometre zone, right?”“Ho, ho, ho!”“Plus, I’ll have to write you a citation for operating, uh, a sleigh without a valid license.”“Ho, ho, ho! Oh no!”"And I’m going to have to give that—that reindeer with the red nose a breathalyser test.”“Merry Christmas!”
Christmas Wars
Jingles the reindeer found the crumpled corpse under the Christmas tree, missing a hand. He pawed the body, but it was too late.“Why? Why? Who would do this awful thing to the Elf on the Shelf?”“A great disturbance, I sense.”A tiny wizened green creature appeared from beneath the holiday foliage. In his hands he carried the Elf’s missing appendage and a shiny cylindrical object. He stared at the deceased Elf.“Teaching him, I was. Listen, he did not. Defeated not the enemy, failed did he.”A laugh rang out. “He underestimated the power of the dark side.”
The Magic of Gifting
I nudged the wrapped gift with my toe, half expecting something to pop out. You might think that’s paranoid, but after the gerbil incident I don’t trust strange presents left on my doorstep. Especially when they’re packaged in snowman paper and topped with frilly pink bows. I thought about leaving it, but that might endanger the neighbourhood.I lifted it gingerly by the gaudy bow, carried it indoors and opened it carefully, the fire extinguisher handy. I gasped. Inside lay a hideous rubber chicken.He wouldn't. Not the Fiendish Chicken of Severus Snape.Drat Harry Potter and his Christmas pranks.
Note:Unfortunately, no one entered last week’s contest to win a free book, so I have no winners to announce.
Santa Got Pulled Over By A Policeman(In Canada)
A red and white blur sped past the cop in the parked cruiser. The officer plunked his Tim Horton’s coffee in the cup holder, flicked on the lights and sirens, and gave chase to the speeder. Within minutes, he had the offender pulled over.“You know you were going 70 in a 50 kilometre zone, right?”“Ho, ho, ho!”“Plus, I’ll have to write you a citation for operating, uh, a sleigh without a valid license.”“Ho, ho, ho! Oh no!”"And I’m going to have to give that—that reindeer with the red nose a breathalyser test.”“Merry Christmas!”
Christmas Wars
Jingles the reindeer found the crumpled corpse under the Christmas tree, missing a hand. He pawed the body, but it was too late.“Why? Why? Who would do this awful thing to the Elf on the Shelf?”“A great disturbance, I sense.”A tiny wizened green creature appeared from beneath the holiday foliage. In his hands he carried the Elf’s missing appendage and a shiny cylindrical object. He stared at the deceased Elf.“Teaching him, I was. Listen, he did not. Defeated not the enemy, failed did he.”A laugh rang out. “He underestimated the power of the dark side.”
The Magic of Gifting
I nudged the wrapped gift with my toe, half expecting something to pop out. You might think that’s paranoid, but after the gerbil incident I don’t trust strange presents left on my doorstep. Especially when they’re packaged in snowman paper and topped with frilly pink bows. I thought about leaving it, but that might endanger the neighbourhood.I lifted it gingerly by the gaudy bow, carried it indoors and opened it carefully, the fire extinguisher handy. I gasped. Inside lay a hideous rubber chicken.He wouldn't. Not the Fiendish Chicken of Severus Snape.Drat Harry Potter and his Christmas pranks.
Note:Unfortunately, no one entered last week’s contest to win a free book, so I have no winners to announce.
December 20, 2014
Interview With Author Rohini Singh
I have an interview up today, with the interesting writer, Rohini Singh, author of the science fiction novel, The Time Manipulator's Son...
Interview With Rohini Singh
Why don’t you begin by sharing a little about yourself.
I am the first female science fiction writer from the island of Trinidad in the Caribbean. I have a BSc in computing and I have been employed in the Information Technology field for over eleven years now in the area of software development, web and database development and administration.
You've recently release a science fiction novel, The Time Manipulator's Son. Can you tell us a bit about the book?
The book is for pre-teens to young adults. I have introduced a brand new world in a distant galaxy, where the sky is a different colour each day of the week. Species such as biclopses, flykinds, steamhounds, blockheads, and earthlings (including Trinidadians) all coexist under two and a half moons.
The story line centers around three twelve year old boys who were considered outcasts among their peers. These boys came together under unusual circumstances to solve a mystery. This union helped these boys to accept themselves for who they are and they were able to overcome their differences, hence the book touches on the sensitive and worldwide subjects of bullying and diversity.
The book was rated as a #1 Hot New Release on Amazon.com.
What is it, as a writer, that appeals to you most about the science fiction genre?
As a child, I was always fascinated by the diverse worlds and realities that go beyond the boundaries of reality, where anything is possible. I especially admire the works of Gene Roddenberry.
When writing The Time Manipulator's Son, did you find anything about the process surprising or difficult?
Writing the book was not difficult for me. The plot came quite easily after looking at some of the young students at a high school where my sister was a teacher. The idea popped into my head: what if kids of different species came together for a common cause in an alternate world?
Do have any interesting facts or stories to tell about the book, or an anecdote about writing it?
The book features the culture, language, folklore and food from Trinidad. These were incorporated into a futuristic world and I also mirrored our multi-cultural society.
What is your greatest challenge as a writer, and as an author?
Building an audience with social media was my biggest challenge, especially since I was never active in social media before. Also, reaching the younger readers was not available through social media.
Who has inspired you as an author?
Enid Blyton, Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Jules Verne, Michael Crichton. Authors from Trinidad include, Michael Anthony, Samuel Selvon and Vidya Naipaul.
What do you enjoy when you’re not busy writing?
Looking at football (English, Spanish and Italian league championships), reading, and taking in a good movie.
What’s next for you?
Hopefully, to continue writing a four part series in “The Time Manipulator’s Son”. I already have the plots for each of the books planned out.
You can find more about the author and her books at her website: http://rohini-singh.com
Or on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rohini.ttms
The Time Manipulator’s Son is available on Amazon:http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0984693874
Interview With Rohini Singh
Why don’t you begin by sharing a little about yourself.
I am the first female science fiction writer from the island of Trinidad in the Caribbean. I have a BSc in computing and I have been employed in the Information Technology field for over eleven years now in the area of software development, web and database development and administration.
You've recently release a science fiction novel, The Time Manipulator's Son. Can you tell us a bit about the book?
The book is for pre-teens to young adults. I have introduced a brand new world in a distant galaxy, where the sky is a different colour each day of the week. Species such as biclopses, flykinds, steamhounds, blockheads, and earthlings (including Trinidadians) all coexist under two and a half moons.
The story line centers around three twelve year old boys who were considered outcasts among their peers. These boys came together under unusual circumstances to solve a mystery. This union helped these boys to accept themselves for who they are and they were able to overcome their differences, hence the book touches on the sensitive and worldwide subjects of bullying and diversity.
The book was rated as a #1 Hot New Release on Amazon.com.
What is it, as a writer, that appeals to you most about the science fiction genre?
As a child, I was always fascinated by the diverse worlds and realities that go beyond the boundaries of reality, where anything is possible. I especially admire the works of Gene Roddenberry.
When writing The Time Manipulator's Son, did you find anything about the process surprising or difficult?
Writing the book was not difficult for me. The plot came quite easily after looking at some of the young students at a high school where my sister was a teacher. The idea popped into my head: what if kids of different species came together for a common cause in an alternate world?
Do have any interesting facts or stories to tell about the book, or an anecdote about writing it?
The book features the culture, language, folklore and food from Trinidad. These were incorporated into a futuristic world and I also mirrored our multi-cultural society.
What is your greatest challenge as a writer, and as an author?
Building an audience with social media was my biggest challenge, especially since I was never active in social media before. Also, reaching the younger readers was not available through social media.
Who has inspired you as an author?
Enid Blyton, Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Jules Verne, Michael Crichton. Authors from Trinidad include, Michael Anthony, Samuel Selvon and Vidya Naipaul.
What do you enjoy when you’re not busy writing?
Looking at football (English, Spanish and Italian league championships), reading, and taking in a good movie.
What’s next for you?
Hopefully, to continue writing a four part series in “The Time Manipulator’s Son”. I already have the plots for each of the books planned out.
You can find more about the author and her books at her website: http://rohini-singh.com
Or on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rohini.ttms
The Time Manipulator’s Son is available on Amazon:http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0984693874
December 19, 2014
Christmas Lites IV for Charity
Today I have the spotlight on the charity anthology, Christmas Lites IV. I'm one of the authors included in this wonderful book, (with a steampunk tale, The Professor's Christmas Ghost, about ghost hunting in an orphanage), and all the proceeds are being donated to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence.
Christmas Lites IV
Help support the NCADV (The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence) by diving into 20 delectably wonderful Christmas tales told by authors from all over the world. Go on a space adventure, meet a demon with a heart not quite made of gold, find true love, discover a serial killer and much more. Every dime of your purchase goes to help support the victims of domestic violence. Enjoy your holiday even more knowing your purchase benefits so many people in this special time of year!
Stories by:
Ron C. NietoPhil CantrillMysti ParkerVered EhsaniTricia KristufekJonathan TidballJA ClementK.A. DavurFrank W. SmithMark MackeyAddison MooreAmy EyeMonica La PortaS. Patrick PothierAnne SandersMaryMargret TuckerA.F. StewartD.T. DyllinAngela Yuriko SmithBrandon Eye
The book is available on Amazon and Smashwords
And here's a little video I whipped up for my contribution to the anthology:
Christmas Lites IV
Help support the NCADV (The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence) by diving into 20 delectably wonderful Christmas tales told by authors from all over the world. Go on a space adventure, meet a demon with a heart not quite made of gold, find true love, discover a serial killer and much more. Every dime of your purchase goes to help support the victims of domestic violence. Enjoy your holiday even more knowing your purchase benefits so many people in this special time of year!
Stories by:
Ron C. NietoPhil CantrillMysti ParkerVered EhsaniTricia KristufekJonathan TidballJA ClementK.A. DavurFrank W. SmithMark MackeyAddison MooreAmy EyeMonica La PortaS. Patrick PothierAnne SandersMaryMargret TuckerA.F. StewartD.T. DyllinAngela Yuriko SmithBrandon Eye
The book is available on Amazon and Smashwords
And here's a little video I whipped up for my contribution to the anthology:
December 18, 2014
Book Spotlight: Broken People
Today, another book comes into the spotlight, as I present the cyberpunk novel Broken People by Ioana Visan. Enjoy.
Broken People by Ioana Visan
You don’t always get what you want, but if you’re lucky, you might get what you need.
For one week only, an impenetrable castle is open to the public, and Dale Armstrong has come to Bratislava to rob it. When he finds his partner’s arms mangled, he desperately searches for a way to fix him before time runs out.
Because the war in the Far East is sapping all the allied nation’s resources, only The Nightingale Circus has the spare parts, the power, and the expertise to fix prosthetics and help the injured, but nothing is free.
Unfortunately, Dale doesn't know about The Nightingale Circus’s side job, but a forced encounter with the most dangerous woman in the city, the Golden Lady, sends him their way. On this roller coaster of crazy twists and flips, schemes and deceit, wishes and dreams, no one can foresee how the aerialist will land.
Anything is possible in a world of Broken People.
Broken People can be found on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PM4SYYI
Author Bio:
Award-winning writer Ioana Visan has always dreamed about reaching the stars, but since she can't, she writes about it.
After fighting the apocalypse aftermath in "Human Instincts", she played with shapeshifters in "Blue Moon Café Series: Where Shifters Meet for Drinks", she dealt with vampires in "The Impaler Legacy" series, and then she designed prosthetics in "Broken People" before tackling longer works like a fantasy trilogy and a science fiction series.
Aside from publishing short stories in various Romanian magazines and anthologies, she published a Romanian short story collection "Efectul de nautil" and the Romanian edition of "Human Instincts".
She received the Encouragement Award from The European Science Fiction Society at Eurocon 2013.
You can find out more abut the author and her books at these sites:
Website: http://www.ioanavisan.tkBlog: http://weirdvision2001.blogspot.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorIoanaVisanTwitter: https://twitter.com/weirdvisionAmazon: http://amazon.com/author/ioanavisanGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/ioanavisan
Broken People by Ioana VisanYou don’t always get what you want, but if you’re lucky, you might get what you need.
For one week only, an impenetrable castle is open to the public, and Dale Armstrong has come to Bratislava to rob it. When he finds his partner’s arms mangled, he desperately searches for a way to fix him before time runs out.
Because the war in the Far East is sapping all the allied nation’s resources, only The Nightingale Circus has the spare parts, the power, and the expertise to fix prosthetics and help the injured, but nothing is free.
Unfortunately, Dale doesn't know about The Nightingale Circus’s side job, but a forced encounter with the most dangerous woman in the city, the Golden Lady, sends him their way. On this roller coaster of crazy twists and flips, schemes and deceit, wishes and dreams, no one can foresee how the aerialist will land.
Anything is possible in a world of Broken People.
Broken People can be found on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PM4SYYI
Author Bio:Award-winning writer Ioana Visan has always dreamed about reaching the stars, but since she can't, she writes about it.
After fighting the apocalypse aftermath in "Human Instincts", she played with shapeshifters in "Blue Moon Café Series: Where Shifters Meet for Drinks", she dealt with vampires in "The Impaler Legacy" series, and then she designed prosthetics in "Broken People" before tackling longer works like a fantasy trilogy and a science fiction series.
Aside from publishing short stories in various Romanian magazines and anthologies, she published a Romanian short story collection "Efectul de nautil" and the Romanian edition of "Human Instincts".
She received the Encouragement Award from The European Science Fiction Society at Eurocon 2013.
You can find out more abut the author and her books at these sites:
Website: http://www.ioanavisan.tkBlog: http://weirdvision2001.blogspot.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorIoanaVisanTwitter: https://twitter.com/weirdvisionAmazon: http://amazon.com/author/ioanavisanGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/ioanavisan
December 17, 2014
Drabble Wednesday: Holiday Cheer
I’m bringing that strange festive touch to the blog this Drabble Wednesday, with a variety of odd Holiday themed bits of short fiction. Plus, when you've finished reading, there's an opportunity to win a free book at the end of the post. Enjoy.
First up some flash fiction, two stories about the danger of holiday parties…
Don’t Touch the Eggnog
Spiking the eggnog was a bad idea. A very bad idea.I just wanted to liven the family Christmas party, get the aunts, the uncles, the cousins, and the siblings to loosen up a bit. Who knew a few of dollops of rum would have such an effect!
Aunt Lucy was the first to go, climbing onto the coffee table to do the Can-Can. Oh, the memory of that will haunt me forever. Uncle George chimed in with some French song I didn't understand and then transitioned into “Who Let the Dogs Out”.
From there everything spun out of control. Cousin Fred curled into a human ball and kept calling for someone named Daphne. My brother Dave and my other brother Daryl played keep-away with the porcelain Santa and my sister Jane started a food fight with the rest of my cousins. Aunt Jessica kept muttering “he’s dead” and something about a cove, while Uncles Bob and Bert got into a fistfight.
By the time they all passed out, the drapes were cover in pate and cream cheese, Santa was shattered with pieces embedded in the floor, the coffee table was missing a leg, two uncles had black eyes and someone vomited over the ficus. I can see Boxing Day will be spent making hangover cures and apologising.
I've learned my lesson. That’s the last time I take advice from Mom and Dad.
Never Put Your Pate Near The Blender
Everyone loved Bob’s New Year’s Eve parties. He never invited too many people and his house had a good view of the fireworks in the Town Square. He always had tons of food and his New Year’s cocktails were famous around town. He was responsible too; you could stay the night if you didn't have a designated driver or afford cab fare home. Bob never let anyone drink and drive.
That’s why everybody from Harrisville and the surrounding area mourned him the year he had the fatal accident...
It was the year he decided to serve Margaritas. He usually saved them for the Fourth of July party, but that year he changed the menu, serving Sangria instead at the Independence Day barbecue.
It happened in the kitchen while he was mixing drinks in the blender. No one is certain precisely how it happened, but the end of his tie fell unnoticed in the liquid as he prepared the ingredients. What is known is that Bob’s cat leapt on the cupboard (the police concluded the feline was after the salmon pate) and her paw hit the puree button on the blender. It was over in minutes, the tie catching in the blade, Bob’s face turning purple, his breath choking in his throat. He collapsed to the floor in a mess of margarita mix and broken blender.
Now, on every New Year’s Eve in Harrisville we all raise a cocktail and give a toast to Bob. And curse the salmon pate.
And now for our feaure drabbles…
A Fairy Tale Christmas Story
Once upon a time, far from the land of BB guns, there was me, Rutherford B. Hasenpheffer, and like all boys (aged 6-12) I had a Christmas wish. I wanted a dragon (yes, you heard me, a dragon), one legendary, fire-breathing, winged lizard.I badgered my parents night and day for a year, following them around the castle, begging for a dragon. “No,” they said. Repeatedly. Consistently. But I persisted, until somewhere around November they relented. So I found a baby dragon under the Christmas tree.The only problem, the darn beast burned down the castle and now we’re homeless.
An Out of This World New Year
After I mentioned the polka-dotted aliens, Jean insisted she had to see green snow, so I hovered the spaceship (shaped like a streetcar and named Desire) from the garage, and we flew to their planet. We arrived in time for their Lunar Ice Festival and celebrated the New Year dressed in lavender thermal fusion snowsuits and fuzzy party hats, drinking alien hooch. Unfortunately, the morning found us five light-years from Earth in a bizarre hotel suite full of passed out aliens, Jean with a new pink comet tattoo and me with a raging hangover.We’re never drinking Romulan Ale again.
And here’s a bonus half-drabble…
Broken Lights
I just couldn't take my husband’s criticism of my decorating skills anymore. I wrapped the cord around his neck, strangled him and watched his face turn red as he gasped for air. At least I finally found a use for that broken set of Christmas lights I never threw away.
Now on to the chance to win a free ebook.
I'm offering to gift one of my ebooks from Smashwords (winner's choice) to any person who lists one of the TV shows subtly referenced in the above stories. All you have to do is leave a comment with the show's name, and some way to contact you if you win (such as an email, Twitter account, Google+ profile, etc.). Here's a hint: you can find the answers in Don’t Touch the Eggnog, A Fairy Tale Christmas Story, and An Out of This World New Year. You have until Dec. 23rd to win, and the winners will be posted on Dec. 24th, the Christmas Eve edition of Drabble Wednesday.
You can check out my list of books on my Smashwords profile:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/scribe77
First up some flash fiction, two stories about the danger of holiday parties…
Don’t Touch the Eggnog
Spiking the eggnog was a bad idea. A very bad idea.I just wanted to liven the family Christmas party, get the aunts, the uncles, the cousins, and the siblings to loosen up a bit. Who knew a few of dollops of rum would have such an effect!
Aunt Lucy was the first to go, climbing onto the coffee table to do the Can-Can. Oh, the memory of that will haunt me forever. Uncle George chimed in with some French song I didn't understand and then transitioned into “Who Let the Dogs Out”.
From there everything spun out of control. Cousin Fred curled into a human ball and kept calling for someone named Daphne. My brother Dave and my other brother Daryl played keep-away with the porcelain Santa and my sister Jane started a food fight with the rest of my cousins. Aunt Jessica kept muttering “he’s dead” and something about a cove, while Uncles Bob and Bert got into a fistfight.
By the time they all passed out, the drapes were cover in pate and cream cheese, Santa was shattered with pieces embedded in the floor, the coffee table was missing a leg, two uncles had black eyes and someone vomited over the ficus. I can see Boxing Day will be spent making hangover cures and apologising.
I've learned my lesson. That’s the last time I take advice from Mom and Dad.
Never Put Your Pate Near The Blender
Everyone loved Bob’s New Year’s Eve parties. He never invited too many people and his house had a good view of the fireworks in the Town Square. He always had tons of food and his New Year’s cocktails were famous around town. He was responsible too; you could stay the night if you didn't have a designated driver or afford cab fare home. Bob never let anyone drink and drive.
That’s why everybody from Harrisville and the surrounding area mourned him the year he had the fatal accident...
It was the year he decided to serve Margaritas. He usually saved them for the Fourth of July party, but that year he changed the menu, serving Sangria instead at the Independence Day barbecue.
It happened in the kitchen while he was mixing drinks in the blender. No one is certain precisely how it happened, but the end of his tie fell unnoticed in the liquid as he prepared the ingredients. What is known is that Bob’s cat leapt on the cupboard (the police concluded the feline was after the salmon pate) and her paw hit the puree button on the blender. It was over in minutes, the tie catching in the blade, Bob’s face turning purple, his breath choking in his throat. He collapsed to the floor in a mess of margarita mix and broken blender.
Now, on every New Year’s Eve in Harrisville we all raise a cocktail and give a toast to Bob. And curse the salmon pate.
And now for our feaure drabbles…
A Fairy Tale Christmas Story
Once upon a time, far from the land of BB guns, there was me, Rutherford B. Hasenpheffer, and like all boys (aged 6-12) I had a Christmas wish. I wanted a dragon (yes, you heard me, a dragon), one legendary, fire-breathing, winged lizard.I badgered my parents night and day for a year, following them around the castle, begging for a dragon. “No,” they said. Repeatedly. Consistently. But I persisted, until somewhere around November they relented. So I found a baby dragon under the Christmas tree.The only problem, the darn beast burned down the castle and now we’re homeless.
An Out of This World New Year
After I mentioned the polka-dotted aliens, Jean insisted she had to see green snow, so I hovered the spaceship (shaped like a streetcar and named Desire) from the garage, and we flew to their planet. We arrived in time for their Lunar Ice Festival and celebrated the New Year dressed in lavender thermal fusion snowsuits and fuzzy party hats, drinking alien hooch. Unfortunately, the morning found us five light-years from Earth in a bizarre hotel suite full of passed out aliens, Jean with a new pink comet tattoo and me with a raging hangover.We’re never drinking Romulan Ale again.
And here’s a bonus half-drabble…
Broken Lights
I just couldn't take my husband’s criticism of my decorating skills anymore. I wrapped the cord around his neck, strangled him and watched his face turn red as he gasped for air. At least I finally found a use for that broken set of Christmas lights I never threw away.
Now on to the chance to win a free ebook.
I'm offering to gift one of my ebooks from Smashwords (winner's choice) to any person who lists one of the TV shows subtly referenced in the above stories. All you have to do is leave a comment with the show's name, and some way to contact you if you win (such as an email, Twitter account, Google+ profile, etc.). Here's a hint: you can find the answers in Don’t Touch the Eggnog, A Fairy Tale Christmas Story, and An Out of This World New Year. You have until Dec. 23rd to win, and the winners will be posted on Dec. 24th, the Christmas Eve edition of Drabble Wednesday.
You can check out my list of books on my Smashwords profile:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/scribe77
December 13, 2014
Book Spotlight: Winterreise
I have another book spotlight today, plus an excerpt. This time the book is a fantasy, the urban fairy tale, Winterreise, brought to you by Daphne du Bois writing as Emily de Courcy. Enjoy...
Winterreise by Emily de Courcy
Life in the old city of Aldgard is (almost) never boring...
When music student Penny Wells first met the Erlking, she had an inkling that trouble would follow. Especially since she had a thesis to write and concert to prepare for, and she definitely didn’t have time for magic.
So it really stands to reason that Penny should have known better that to stroll into the Hinterlands to return a strange locket he’d left behind – because nothing is ever accidental when it comes to the Erlking.
And when she does so anyway and awakens an ancient sleeper, seriously annoying the Norse Gods (well, most of them), she finds that she has to set things right before they use her new friend for their upcoming ritual sacrifice. Because Penny won’t stand for that.
But first, she has to figure out what it is they’re really worried about and what all of it has to do with a Schubert song cycle that the Aldgard University music department will be putting on in just a matter of weeks...
Excerpt from Chapter 1
The Erlking drank his coffee black, no sugar.
Penny rather thought he’d have done better with herbal tea, given his tendency to be neurotic. It would certainly have helped with the twitching. Anyway, there was likely no coffee under the hills, so it was a wonder he’d developed a taste for it at all, never mind mastering the art of drinking it without wincing.
They were at the local coffee shop: the kind with squashy couches and rickety tables. It had pale wooden panels on the walls, and Wilhelm, the owner, was a troll. Nobody knew this, of course, except for the Erlking, and Penny, who was rather good at eavesdropping.
Wilhelm disguised himself with clever bits of enchanted spider silk to make him appear human, but given the standard mortal tendency to ignore the unusual, this was hardly necessary. Mortals generally kept the uncanny at bay by pointedly ignoring it: that way, the barely seen world often passed entirely unseen.
Wilhelm used to own a tavern in the Hinterlands: The Broken Keg, it had been called. But owning a tavern was a rough business, even for a troll: no-one had appreciated his secret-recipe strawberry shortcake, and taverns were astonishingly flammable no matter how much magical fire-proofing you did.
When some rowdy dwarfs had trashed The Keg in a bar fight of epic proportions, Wilhelm had decided he’d had enough. His gnomish nurse, who had refused to move on once Wilhelm had reached adulthood, had always said he wouldn't be any good at tavern-keeping. “A job for dimwits and scoundrels!” she would proclaim, while taking a fierce swig of his father’s finest fire wine. Gnome women made the best nurses, not because of any silly instinct, but because of their no-nonsense approach to gnome-rearing, and their wonderful baking.
Wilhelm had considered his options, decided that his nurse had made a valid point after all, and moved camp to the mortal side. Stepping between worlds was a surprisingly easy thing to do, Penny realised upon hearing his story.
She knew that there was a doorway to the fairy realms quite nearby, going on what Wilhelm had once let slip. Penny imagined the door to be mystical and glittery: maybe hidden somewhere deep within an ancient oak tree. It went quite well with the overall ‘old stone and ivy’ medieval-town atmosphere of Aldgard University.
Not that she had much time to think about magical portals and the like. She had two essays due that week, one of which was a monstrous thing on the development of fifteenth century French harmonic practices. She definitely didn't have time for any portals just then…
Winterreise can be found here: Amazon Goodreads
(Note: the Amazon link should take you to whichever Amazon you use worldwide )
Author Bio:
Daphne has always had a passion for literature and history and one day it occurred to her: what better way to use her English Literature degree than to write the kinds of stories she loves to read? She hasn't looked back since.
Daphne also writes lyrical fantasy under the pen name Emily de Courcy, and who knows where she'll branch out next!
Daphne has stacks of notebooks full of stories that still need to be written, which she insists on bringing with her when she moves around the world (she’s done this a lot!). She likes her books full of romance, magic, adventure, witty repartee and a dash of silly humour. When Daphne isn't writing, she can be found painting, picnicking, reading and listening to all sorts of exciting music.
Winterreise by Emily de CourcyLife in the old city of Aldgard is (almost) never boring...
When music student Penny Wells first met the Erlking, she had an inkling that trouble would follow. Especially since she had a thesis to write and concert to prepare for, and she definitely didn’t have time for magic.
So it really stands to reason that Penny should have known better that to stroll into the Hinterlands to return a strange locket he’d left behind – because nothing is ever accidental when it comes to the Erlking.
And when she does so anyway and awakens an ancient sleeper, seriously annoying the Norse Gods (well, most of them), she finds that she has to set things right before they use her new friend for their upcoming ritual sacrifice. Because Penny won’t stand for that.
But first, she has to figure out what it is they’re really worried about and what all of it has to do with a Schubert song cycle that the Aldgard University music department will be putting on in just a matter of weeks...
Excerpt from Chapter 1
The Erlking drank his coffee black, no sugar.
Penny rather thought he’d have done better with herbal tea, given his tendency to be neurotic. It would certainly have helped with the twitching. Anyway, there was likely no coffee under the hills, so it was a wonder he’d developed a taste for it at all, never mind mastering the art of drinking it without wincing.
They were at the local coffee shop: the kind with squashy couches and rickety tables. It had pale wooden panels on the walls, and Wilhelm, the owner, was a troll. Nobody knew this, of course, except for the Erlking, and Penny, who was rather good at eavesdropping.
Wilhelm disguised himself with clever bits of enchanted spider silk to make him appear human, but given the standard mortal tendency to ignore the unusual, this was hardly necessary. Mortals generally kept the uncanny at bay by pointedly ignoring it: that way, the barely seen world often passed entirely unseen.
Wilhelm used to own a tavern in the Hinterlands: The Broken Keg, it had been called. But owning a tavern was a rough business, even for a troll: no-one had appreciated his secret-recipe strawberry shortcake, and taverns were astonishingly flammable no matter how much magical fire-proofing you did.
When some rowdy dwarfs had trashed The Keg in a bar fight of epic proportions, Wilhelm had decided he’d had enough. His gnomish nurse, who had refused to move on once Wilhelm had reached adulthood, had always said he wouldn't be any good at tavern-keeping. “A job for dimwits and scoundrels!” she would proclaim, while taking a fierce swig of his father’s finest fire wine. Gnome women made the best nurses, not because of any silly instinct, but because of their no-nonsense approach to gnome-rearing, and their wonderful baking.
Wilhelm had considered his options, decided that his nurse had made a valid point after all, and moved camp to the mortal side. Stepping between worlds was a surprisingly easy thing to do, Penny realised upon hearing his story.
She knew that there was a doorway to the fairy realms quite nearby, going on what Wilhelm had once let slip. Penny imagined the door to be mystical and glittery: maybe hidden somewhere deep within an ancient oak tree. It went quite well with the overall ‘old stone and ivy’ medieval-town atmosphere of Aldgard University.
Not that she had much time to think about magical portals and the like. She had two essays due that week, one of which was a monstrous thing on the development of fifteenth century French harmonic practices. She definitely didn't have time for any portals just then…
Winterreise can be found here: Amazon Goodreads
(Note: the Amazon link should take you to whichever Amazon you use worldwide )
Author Bio:Daphne has always had a passion for literature and history and one day it occurred to her: what better way to use her English Literature degree than to write the kinds of stories she loves to read? She hasn't looked back since.
Daphne also writes lyrical fantasy under the pen name Emily de Courcy, and who knows where she'll branch out next!
Daphne has stacks of notebooks full of stories that still need to be written, which she insists on bringing with her when she moves around the world (she’s done this a lot!). She likes her books full of romance, magic, adventure, witty repartee and a dash of silly humour. When Daphne isn't writing, she can be found painting, picnicking, reading and listening to all sorts of exciting music.
December 11, 2014
Book Spotlight: Hello Devilfish!
Today on the blog we take a more comedic slant as I shine the spotlight on the monster mashup, Hello Devilfish! by Ron Dakron
Hello Devilfish! by Ron Dakron
A Manglish-splashed, comic, first-person account of a giant blue Japanese movie monster stingray’s attack on contemporary Tokyo and his tragic morph into human form. Epic waterfront battles! Shock pop! Destructive rampages!And under it all, a stinging critique of contemporary culture and mainstream literature told by a master of satire. Using elements of Japanese shock pop, the story is told in a Manglish-spiced, comic narrative. Hello Devilfish! (HD) finds himself pursued by Squidra, a love-struck kaiju giant squid. She demands love—he refuses. In an epic waterfront battle, she traps HD in a human growth hormone bath that changes him into a puny human—monster to man.HD refuses to accept his humanity, and acts like his former giant stingray self while trying to find food, shelter, romance—and avoiding the destructive rampage of his stalker squid love interest.
Hello Devilfish! is available at:AmazonThree Rooms Press
Author Bio:
Ron Dakron is the author of the novels infra, Newt, Hammers, and Mantids. His work runs the gamut from surrealism to sci-fi pastiche, with a prose style that he describes as “haplessly Chicagoan and influenced by working class whites, African American slang, and Yiddish comedy.” His novels explore differing styles of poetic prose, from Romaticism, to cubism, B-movie satire to mangled Japanese translation.Point No Point tagged his novels as “a cross between jive bullshit, hip-hop Henny Youngman, and full-tilt Rimbaudian street-smartass sublimity.” Raven Chronicles judged him “as sinister as a thirteen-year-old with a lighter and a keg of butane.” Publishers Weekly deemed him “a writer with a fine ear and plenty of gusto.” Born in Chicago, Dakron majored in English at Elmhurst College and Lawrence University before moving to Seattle where he worked as a street violinist and house painter, and developed a confrontational poetic performance style “drenched in faux punkery.”He began writing novels in his late twenties, and considers himself “a proud working-class novelist who dreams up Big Lit.” Dakron currently lives in Seattle, WA.
Website: www.rondakron.com
Hello Devilfish! by Ron DakronA Manglish-splashed, comic, first-person account of a giant blue Japanese movie monster stingray’s attack on contemporary Tokyo and his tragic morph into human form. Epic waterfront battles! Shock pop! Destructive rampages!And under it all, a stinging critique of contemporary culture and mainstream literature told by a master of satire. Using elements of Japanese shock pop, the story is told in a Manglish-spiced, comic narrative. Hello Devilfish! (HD) finds himself pursued by Squidra, a love-struck kaiju giant squid. She demands love—he refuses. In an epic waterfront battle, she traps HD in a human growth hormone bath that changes him into a puny human—monster to man.HD refuses to accept his humanity, and acts like his former giant stingray self while trying to find food, shelter, romance—and avoiding the destructive rampage of his stalker squid love interest.
Hello Devilfish! is available at:AmazonThree Rooms Press
Author Bio:Ron Dakron is the author of the novels infra, Newt, Hammers, and Mantids. His work runs the gamut from surrealism to sci-fi pastiche, with a prose style that he describes as “haplessly Chicagoan and influenced by working class whites, African American slang, and Yiddish comedy.” His novels explore differing styles of poetic prose, from Romaticism, to cubism, B-movie satire to mangled Japanese translation.Point No Point tagged his novels as “a cross between jive bullshit, hip-hop Henny Youngman, and full-tilt Rimbaudian street-smartass sublimity.” Raven Chronicles judged him “as sinister as a thirteen-year-old with a lighter and a keg of butane.” Publishers Weekly deemed him “a writer with a fine ear and plenty of gusto.” Born in Chicago, Dakron majored in English at Elmhurst College and Lawrence University before moving to Seattle where he worked as a street violinist and house painter, and developed a confrontational poetic performance style “drenched in faux punkery.”He began writing novels in his late twenties, and considers himself “a proud working-class novelist who dreams up Big Lit.” Dakron currently lives in Seattle, WA.
Website: www.rondakron.com
December 10, 2014
Drabble Wednesday: The Family
Today’s Drabble Wednesday brings another short fiction series, something I call The Family…
And any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And if these characters resemble your family you have my sympathies.
Cry Havoc
Grandpa always asked the same question before he got into an argument with Grandma. He rolled out the words, “Should my havoc fly?” And that was the signal for the havoc to fly, but it was Grandma’s havoc, while Grandpa generally ended up apologising or sleeping in the doghouse with Goofy, their St. Bernard.That’s why I made it a point to avoid any “havoc” in my personal relationships, lest I inherited Grandpa’s technique instead of Grandma’s. Until Bob. That man just asked for the havoc, so I gave it to him. With both barrels.I hope he likes it out in the doghouse.
A Different Thanksgiving Tradition
We can't find Grandpa's teeth.They went missing during Thanksgiving dinner, after we served the pumpkin pie. Poor Grandpa, he should have known better than to get between Uncle Jim and Cousin Sam when they started fighting over that last piece of pie.Before you could spit, the annual Thanksgiving free-for-all began and Grandpa was on the bottom of the pile. When everyone came up for air, the teeth were missing. We searched, but couldn't find a trace of his wooden choppers. I just hope the dog hasn't run off and buried them again.
Aunt Agatha’s Gift
“Nooooooooooo!”I fling the offending package, silently cursing the postal system that brought me this abomination. My eyes still smart from the gaudy assault of crimson, gold and burnt orange hues that jumped out when I opened the box from its prison of paper.Why must Aunt Agatha torment me so? Doesn't she understand I want no part of her crazy pastime?But there it is, another hideous result sprawled over my floor, waiting to be stuffed in the closet with the others. I sigh and pick up the hand-knitted wool sweater.Oh, no, there’s grinning kittens on the front.
Start the Game
A man in a stained trench coat delivered the strange message.“You must find the Pork Pie.”Then he handed me the clue and left me standing there, unhappy. I hoped I would never be pulled into Grandma’s crazy game, yet, here I was holding the bag, so to speak.I open the clue. It read: Find the Pork Pie where guests go to rest. To discover the name find Serenity’s creator. Seek the cold storage.I sighed. “Grandma you got to get a better hobby.”I pulled out my cell phone and called Jeremy; I would need some help.
Jeremy Wears a Hat
He arrived my doorstep wearing a pork pie hat. Sometimes my new boyfriend is an idiot.“Jeremy, I’m not looking for a hat, take that silly thing off.”“What? I’m just getting into the theme.” But he took off the hat.“I figured out most of this silly clue.” I showed him the paper. “Guests go to rest at a hotel and I think the name thing is part of Granny’s sci-fi obsession. Cold storage we’ll figure out later.” I pulled him back out the door. “It’s a ten minute drive, come on.”“Where are we going?”“The Whedon Hotel.”
The Whedon Hotel
“Let's throw her in the pond and see if she sinks.”Before I could protest, two drunken fools tossed me into the ornamental pond. Well, I didn’t sink (mostly because I can swim), but I got wet, and those nuts each got a black eye. I sloshed back to the hotel and bummed a towel off a maid. While I was drying my hair Jeremy rushed over, excited.“I found it, I found it! Hey, what happened to you?”“Never mind. You found what?”“The Holy Grail, of course!”“What the Pork Pie? It’s here?”“Yep. Seen it with my own eyes.”“What are we waiting for, show me.”
The Picnic
There were enough pickles for everyone.And potato salad, coleslaw, macaroni salad, grilled hot dogs, lemonade and strawberry shortcake waiting on the side table, and enough bread rolls to choke a horse. What a spread! Maybe the trouble my crazy Grandma put me through for this family picnic would be worth it. The last thing we put on the table was the main attraction, the two oversized pork pies Grandma stashed in the freezer at the Whedon Hotel.“Let them in Jeremy, it’s ready.”He threw open the doors and the annual family reunion started with a whoop from Grandma.
Beware of Old Sayings
Grandpa’s a wise man, ripe with the benefits of experience. Many times he’s said: ‘Beware the armadillos of March’, ‘Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day’, ‘Teach him how to fish and he'll drown in the lake’, ‘Better to light a candle than to curse the priest’, and ‘Never send a Chihuahua to do a man's job’.That may seem strange, but considering how Cousin Bud got trampled, that Uncle Winston died his first time fishing and that church incident, it makes sense to the family. Plus, the less said about Aunt Agatha’s Chihuahua the better.
Mom Knows Best
Mother always warned me.So did Uncle Dan, Aunt Agatha and Grandpa. But I kept wondering, every year.I mused about it through the April rain, drinking Aunt Agatha’s special Sangria at the family barbeque, swimming at the lake.I tried to put it out of my mind, but it lurked there, creeping back with the first touch of frost, with the initial snowflake falling down to touch my nose. Then, this December, there was “the cinnamon incident”. It called to me and I had to lick it.And Mother was right, your tongue will stick to icicles in winter.
And any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And if these characters resemble your family you have my sympathies.
Cry Havoc
Grandpa always asked the same question before he got into an argument with Grandma. He rolled out the words, “Should my havoc fly?” And that was the signal for the havoc to fly, but it was Grandma’s havoc, while Grandpa generally ended up apologising or sleeping in the doghouse with Goofy, their St. Bernard.That’s why I made it a point to avoid any “havoc” in my personal relationships, lest I inherited Grandpa’s technique instead of Grandma’s. Until Bob. That man just asked for the havoc, so I gave it to him. With both barrels.I hope he likes it out in the doghouse.
A Different Thanksgiving Tradition
We can't find Grandpa's teeth.They went missing during Thanksgiving dinner, after we served the pumpkin pie. Poor Grandpa, he should have known better than to get between Uncle Jim and Cousin Sam when they started fighting over that last piece of pie.Before you could spit, the annual Thanksgiving free-for-all began and Grandpa was on the bottom of the pile. When everyone came up for air, the teeth were missing. We searched, but couldn't find a trace of his wooden choppers. I just hope the dog hasn't run off and buried them again.
Aunt Agatha’s Gift
“Nooooooooooo!”I fling the offending package, silently cursing the postal system that brought me this abomination. My eyes still smart from the gaudy assault of crimson, gold and burnt orange hues that jumped out when I opened the box from its prison of paper.Why must Aunt Agatha torment me so? Doesn't she understand I want no part of her crazy pastime?But there it is, another hideous result sprawled over my floor, waiting to be stuffed in the closet with the others. I sigh and pick up the hand-knitted wool sweater.Oh, no, there’s grinning kittens on the front.
Start the Game
A man in a stained trench coat delivered the strange message.“You must find the Pork Pie.”Then he handed me the clue and left me standing there, unhappy. I hoped I would never be pulled into Grandma’s crazy game, yet, here I was holding the bag, so to speak.I open the clue. It read: Find the Pork Pie where guests go to rest. To discover the name find Serenity’s creator. Seek the cold storage.I sighed. “Grandma you got to get a better hobby.”I pulled out my cell phone and called Jeremy; I would need some help.
Jeremy Wears a Hat
He arrived my doorstep wearing a pork pie hat. Sometimes my new boyfriend is an idiot.“Jeremy, I’m not looking for a hat, take that silly thing off.”“What? I’m just getting into the theme.” But he took off the hat.“I figured out most of this silly clue.” I showed him the paper. “Guests go to rest at a hotel and I think the name thing is part of Granny’s sci-fi obsession. Cold storage we’ll figure out later.” I pulled him back out the door. “It’s a ten minute drive, come on.”“Where are we going?”“The Whedon Hotel.”
The Whedon Hotel
“Let's throw her in the pond and see if she sinks.”Before I could protest, two drunken fools tossed me into the ornamental pond. Well, I didn’t sink (mostly because I can swim), but I got wet, and those nuts each got a black eye. I sloshed back to the hotel and bummed a towel off a maid. While I was drying my hair Jeremy rushed over, excited.“I found it, I found it! Hey, what happened to you?”“Never mind. You found what?”“The Holy Grail, of course!”“What the Pork Pie? It’s here?”“Yep. Seen it with my own eyes.”“What are we waiting for, show me.”
The Picnic
There were enough pickles for everyone.And potato salad, coleslaw, macaroni salad, grilled hot dogs, lemonade and strawberry shortcake waiting on the side table, and enough bread rolls to choke a horse. What a spread! Maybe the trouble my crazy Grandma put me through for this family picnic would be worth it. The last thing we put on the table was the main attraction, the two oversized pork pies Grandma stashed in the freezer at the Whedon Hotel.“Let them in Jeremy, it’s ready.”He threw open the doors and the annual family reunion started with a whoop from Grandma.
Beware of Old Sayings
Grandpa’s a wise man, ripe with the benefits of experience. Many times he’s said: ‘Beware the armadillos of March’, ‘Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day’, ‘Teach him how to fish and he'll drown in the lake’, ‘Better to light a candle than to curse the priest’, and ‘Never send a Chihuahua to do a man's job’.That may seem strange, but considering how Cousin Bud got trampled, that Uncle Winston died his first time fishing and that church incident, it makes sense to the family. Plus, the less said about Aunt Agatha’s Chihuahua the better.
Mom Knows Best
Mother always warned me.So did Uncle Dan, Aunt Agatha and Grandpa. But I kept wondering, every year.I mused about it through the April rain, drinking Aunt Agatha’s special Sangria at the family barbeque, swimming at the lake.I tried to put it out of my mind, but it lurked there, creeping back with the first touch of frost, with the initial snowflake falling down to touch my nose. Then, this December, there was “the cinnamon incident”. It called to me and I had to lick it.And Mother was right, your tongue will stick to icicles in winter.
