Sherry Morris's Blog, page 40

Fat Bottomed Girls

Fat Bottomed GirlsBy Josephine WhiteRachel, a curvaceous New York City librarian travels to Miami Beach to attend a low carb boot camp with her soggy Scottish e-pal, Rosaleen. Inhaling the lingering aroma of lunch in an adjacent conference room, Rachel finds herself performing the Heimlich Maneuver on Steven, a Navy physician. In gratitude, he invites her to his suite to soak her screaming muscles in a candlelit bubble bath. Rachel emerges, and Steven introduces her to his colleague, Marc. They've been dabbling in their own weight loss research and feel she is the perfect specimen for their first trial. Skeptical Rachel is quickly persuaded to their eat what you like, exercise one hour a day and oh yeah, the romance is required.
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Burning Love

Burning LoveBy Josephine WhiteIn this steamy paranormal romance, Alison, like many other women, has been putting her husband and children first for much too long. She's let herself go and lost that loving feeling. Her husband Billy, a professional firefighter, hasn't. He is happy, healthy and hotter than when they met. Christmas is coming to snowy Vermont and the wind has changed directions. With the kids at their grandparents' home for the night, Billy takes Alison for a walk. When he stumbles on a magic lantern, their three wishes are erotically intoxicating. Two conjured jinns remind them why they fell in love and even though life has intruded, they rekindle the bon fire of new love.

Novella available at Amazon KindleNovella available in all eBook formats at Smashwords

Old Folks Joke #8

From my brother-in-law, John

Morris, an 82 year-old man, went to the doctor to get a physical.



A few days later, the doctor saw Morris walking down the street with a gorgeous young woman on his arm.



A couple of days later, the doctor spoke to Morris and said, 'You're really doing great, aren't you?'



Morris replied, 'Just doing what you said, Doc: 'Get a hot mamma and be cheerful.''



The doctor said, 'I didn't say that.. I said, 'You've got a heart murmur; be careful.'

Excerpt: Dying to Love Him Chapter Two

Dying to Love HimBy Sherry Morris
Chapter TwoCome Fly With Me
I went through the motions of crying, but I guess I must have been too dehydrated to create many tears.  Oh Momma.  I miss you so much.  Just when we finally understood one another.  Oh I hope, God please let Momma understand that I love her and she was a good Momma.  To me and to Daddy's son Perry and to Tammy—the chosen one.  The little girl they adopted.  Even if they are arrogant, greedy, ungrateful, manipulative conniving so and so's.  It's not Momma's fault.  They learned that from Daddy.It occurred to me that my siblings weren't crying.  Didn't they believe me? Were they in denial? No, then they would've asked who had called and for all the details.  "Why aren't you guys crying? Our mother just died.  Aren't you even curious what happened to her? I mean she could've been beheaded in Iraq for all you know." I eyed them suspiciously.  My grief was morphing into seething anger.Tammy screamed, "Ohmagod! What was she doing in Iraq? I'm gonna be sick." She clutched her taught stomach.At least Tammy has some sort of feelings, even if it's just she's grossed out.  Perry asked, "Oh-Donna, who was that on the phone?""That was Momma's friend, Mike."He questioned, "Mike who?""Mike Taurus.  They used to work in the Secret Service together.  That's where she went the first week of August every year.  To spend time with him.""While she was married to my Dad? That 'hoe.  Right there, grounds she shouldn't inherit his estate."I smiled.  Good for you, Momma.  Having a real boyfriend.  Someone who treasured you.  Not like that sociopath you married in his hideous plot of convenience.  Perry's father.  "So where is the body?" Perry questioned."As if you care.  And as if I'd tell you.""Oh-Donna.  Where is Chloe's corpse?""Florida."Tammy blurted out, "Al Qaeda operatives are in Florida? Ohmagod!"Perry said, "So you sent us to California on a wild goose chase.  Thanks a lot little sister."I said, "Oh no! Norma Jean!"Tammy asked, "Who's Norma Jean?""My dog.  That's her name.  I can't go to Florida and leave her alone.  Will you take care of her?" I sized up my brother, begging with my expression.Perry said, "No.  We're all going.  Toss her in a kennel or something.""No! I'm not locking her in a cage.  Her first incarnation was just horrible."Tammy said, "Honey, no, you shouldn't give her Carnation evaporated milk.  Too many sugars in it.  She needs Purina—.""No, I meant her first life.  Oh never mind." These two would never believe that this beautiful Great Dane is the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe.  And I'd better not slip, or they'll have some good ammo toward getting me committed to the loony house.Perry dialed his cell phone.  "Judge Payne here.  Is Roddy available? Right." He unzipped his black judge's robe.  "Listen, I just got word that Chloe died...in Florida...thanks...I appreciate it...hold on—." He tugged his robe over his head, revealing a huge pair of black sweat pants and a white undershirt covering his portly highness.  "Oh-Donna, are you going to have a service for your mother?""Of course." I noticed how the cold ungrateful step-son addressed the woman who lovingly raised him.  "She's being buried in the Florida Keys.""What?""That's what she wanted.""Where? Key Largo? Can they even bury people there? Isn't it below sea level?""It's on a little uncharted island.""What? How in the hell can we find it? What am I supposed to tell Meddlestein?""Give me the phone." He huffed and then handed it to me.I told my mother's neighbor what had happened and he insisted on attending the service with his wife, Gloria.  She and Momma were close friends.  I instructed him about the Fontainebleau Hotel and we agreed to meet there.~While I was bickering with Perry about taking Norma Jean with me to Florida, Tammy yanked out the Yellow Pages and systematically worked down the list, calling all the 1-800 numbers for the airlines.  She finally found one that not only would accept a Great Dane for transport, but they also provided a carrier for her—to the tune of five hundred plus bucks, but that included the ticket, carrier and a veterinary technician fight attendant who would feed and water her while on board.  The only snag was we couldn't fly out until tomorrow morning.  Perry made a couple of his-honorly phone calls, arranging to have his cases postponed or reassigned for the next week and then went home to pack.~I was drinking another glass of ice water when Norma Jean galloped to the front door prior to "Aura Lee" resounding.  I staggered through the foyer.  Great.  Just great.  I could see the silhouette of Daddy's old sport's club crony, Dr.  "Farts" Goldfarb.  He's the medical consultant at Heavenly H.M.O., where I work in the file room.  And the one who transported me to the emergency room two weeks ago after I enjoyed one of my heavenly dreams at work.  Norma Jean's tail was whipping my behind.  I gripped her pink collar and opened the door.  "Hello Donna.  I just got off the phone with the judge." The Jack Nicholson look alike marched in and shut the door behind him.  He was carrying his little black doctor's bag.  Just like in the old movies.  He grabbed my elbow and escorted me to the living room."I'm fine.  I don't know why everyone is always making such a fuss." A wave of dizziness caught me in the lie.  I plopped down in the old gold recliner.  The ear thermometer beeped as he inserted it.  The living room began a slow spin as he shined a light in my eyes.  His face was so close to mine that I could smell chocolate chip cookies on his breath.  Gross.Here I am being examined by a proctologist.  In my own home.  I need to write this scene and insert it into one of my novels.  One of those truths can be stranger than fiction moments.  The room returned to normal as he took my blood pressure and pulse.  Doc Goldfarb pinched the skin on my arm and said, "Look Donna, it doesn't go back down.  You're dehydrated.  I need to admit you for I.V.  fluids and some more tests.  I'll get in touch with Dr.  Claytor, the lady neurologist who interpreted your CAT scan—.""No.  I'm not going to the hospital.  I have to go to Florida tomorrow...my momma died." I began blubbering, trying to cry, but no tears came.  Farts held my hand and said, "Very well.  Come on.  I'll take you down to the E.R.  We'll get some fluids in you and see what your neurologist recommends.  I'll make sure you are at least hydrated, on an outpatient basis.  But promise me you'll make an appointment with her as soon as you get back."Tammy brought me another glass of water.  "Go with him Oh-Donna.  I'll take care of the house and dog for you.  I still have some clothes up in your guest room.  I'll stay the night.  We'll have sweet orange tea and those special cookies from the Giant bakery.  I'll pick some up.  I brought your mail in.  It's on the kitchen table.  You got a package."Cookies, yum.  It's been a couple years since I devoured my last cookie.  Package? I wasn't expecting anything.  And how rude and presumptuous of her to dig my keys out of my purse to open my cubby on the community mailbox.  She was snooping for something, no doubt.  But what? Sipping my water, I plodded into the kitchen.  There it was.  A big brown padded envelope from Charlatan Press.  Something wasn't right.  Not normal.  I hadn't sent a self addressed stamped envelope for them to shove my manuscript back into with the form rejection letter.  I authorized them in my cover letter to destroy my manuscript if they didn't want it.  Wait a minute.  I felt giddy.  They must want to buy it and have marked the pages up with revisions! I withdrew my kitchen scissors from the wooden knife block and slit the envelope open.  I extracted the cover letter.~Dear Orpha Donna Payne, Thank you for thinking of Charlatan Press.  Unfortunately this manuscript does not suit our current editorial needs.  We are sorry to disappoint you.  We offer the following comments:  Stupid heroine.  Bully hero.  Too much plot, everything but the kitchen sink.  Not as much emotion as I'd hoped.  Sincerely, Betty McNeelyAssociate Editor, Charlatan Press~I tugged the four pound manuscript out.  It was only bound by one horizontal rubber band...and it was plain brown.  I'd mailed my manuscript bound with one pink rubber band horizontally and one blue rubber band vertically.  They must've liked them and kept them.  Too bad they didn't like the story and keep it.  I flipped through.  It looked like the first hundred pages out of four hundred had been read.  The rest appeared untouched.I shoved it back inside the ugly envelope.Tammy asked, "What's that?""Nothing.  Nothing at all.""It must be something," she pried."I thought it was but nobody else does.""Oh-Donna you're not making sense."~After saying goodbye to Norma Jean at the animal drop off area of Dulles International Airport, we headed into the terminal to the security line.  I hate going through security, always afraid I'll be singled out and embarrassed.  Perry and Tammy snaked through a different queue than I, no doubt so they could scheme in private.When my turn came, I removed my black kitten-heeled shoes, watch, pearls and matching earrings and placed them in one of the tan plastic boxes on the conveyer belt along with my black purse.  I positioned it right behind my pink carry-on suitcase.  When the exhausted looking Transportation Security Administration guy manning the x-ray equipment gave the go ahead, I thrust my items through.  I stared at the no nonsense on my watch TSA guy standing on the other side of the metal detector.  Reminded me of Kent McCord from Adam-12.  He instructed, "Remove your suit coat before you step through." I was wearing a black pin striped skirt and matching top.  It sported an attached contrasting blue collar, which gave the appearance of a separate blouse.  I said, "This isn't a suit coat." I focused on his brown hair, recently cut and deliberately disheveled.  Chiseled classic features, compelling blue eyes and a touch of sexy stubble.He said, "Remove your suit coat.""It isn't a suit coat.  This is one piece." Why does he have to look so stern? "Remove your suit coat," he barked.I took in the rustles and groans of the weary businessmen in line behind me."This is just one piece.  I'm not wearing a blouse under it.""You're not wearing anything under it?""No.  This is one piece," I whimpered.  You're an idiot Donna.  Why did you pick this to wear today?"Remove your suit coat."Standing tall, with shaking hands, I unbuttoned the three buttons and flashed him my pink lace demi bra."Step through the metal detector."I did.  As I handed him my boarding pass and Virginia driver's license, he leaned down and whispered in an official tone, "I was not being difficult, Ms.  Payne.  I have procedures to follow." He didn't take his eyes off of my cleavage as I buttoned up.  Mr.  Procedures was about a foot taller than my five foot-two inch frame.  When he leaned down, all I could think about was tiptoeing up to kiss those dominating lips of his...I said, "I was not being difficult either.  What did you think I was hiding?" "Exactly what you revealed.  Thank you." Those lips curled into a brief grin.  He handed me my boarding pass and I.D.My pulse reeled when I touched his large hand.  Flushed, I pivoted and retrieved my belongings.  Slipping my shoes on fast, I stumbled out of the way.  Had that guy actually flirted with me? A guy like that? I momentarily envisioned him ordering me to remove my bra and almost experienced the sensational stubble of his whiskers on my breast as his hot breath tickled my nipple.  I glanced back at him.  He kind of reminded me of another actor too.  That guy Mike on Desperate Housewives.  What a yummy blend.  When he pivoted and sized me up, I almost opened my mouth to say something foolish.  But the metal detector beeped and his attention instantly averted from dumpy old me.As I trekked toward gate thirty-two, I wondered how long it had been since any man had shown interest in me.  Not since the Woodrow Wilson Bridge became stuck in the open position and I missed my entire wedding.  What idiot erected a draw bridge on the capitol beltway? My groom concluded I had stood him up at the alter.  Tammy and the best man kissed him and made him all better at the resort in the Poconos that I'd reserved and paid for.  My God, that was ten years ago.~My ticket was for a window seat, in front of Tammy and Perry.  I smiled at the respite, not to be sitting with my arrogant siblings.  I retightened my seatbelt and kicked my ugly black purse under the seat in front of me.  As we taxied up the runway, I closed my eyes.  Dear God and Jesus in heaven, please rest my mother's and father's souls in eternal comfort.  Forgive them their sins and please give some wisdom and warmth to the ones they've left behind, including Momma's friend Mike.  Please let us take off and land safely.  Amen.I opened my eyes and chewed cow-like on cinnamon Mentos candies.  I kept popping them in until we'd leveled off.  Momma was a big gum chewer.  Cinnamon Dentyne.  I couldn't bring myself to buy any at the gift shop.  She really could pop and crack her gum.  An inherited trait I didn't possess.  But it doesn't really bother me anymore, wondering why I look and act and react so differently than my family.  Because now I know all the terrible secrets they kept from me.  Damn them.  I leaned my head on the window and stared at the trees and roads down below until we ascended high into the clouds.The twenty-two-ish male flight attendant brought the drink cart.  Blond and handsome, but way too young.  "I'd like a Diet Pepsi, please." He popped the top on the can, poured some in a clear plastic cup with ice, serving it on a white paper napkin.  I turned thirty-nine a few weeks ago.  How that happened, I can't explain.  I don't feel thirty-nine.  I feel well, twenty-seven-ish.  The TSA guy was more in my age group.  Perfect actually.  Perverted actually.  Or was he actually just following procedures? Jeeze Donna.  Get a hold of yourself.  Here you are daydreaming that a man who couldn't possibly be attracted to you actually was.  Making a big romance out of it.  Just like the make-believe romance you have with your make-believe roommate, your dream weaver, debonair secret agent Ashley Jones.  The flight attendant served hot coffee to the perky lady next to me.  The old man on the aisle declined a beverage.  The attendant handed us all a tiny bag of pretzels.  I can't eat pretzels.  I'm on the Atkins diet.  I can never eat pretzels again.  Pure carbohydrates.  I love pretzels.  I carefully pulled the plastic bag open and ate them, one-by-one.  Sucking on the white salt.  Enjoying the first crisp bite.  Washing each down with soda.The ventilation system whooshed as I tuned in Perry and Tammy's conversation.  Tammy asked, "So do you think Mom's really dead?"Perry said, "Hope so.  Dunno though.  Consider the source of the information.  Her brain damaged daughter.  We do need to find Chloe, one way or the other.  If she's dead, then that's great, we not only will be heirs to Dad's estate, but to Chloe's as well.""What about Oh-Donna? She could cause some trouble.""Don't worry about Oh-Donna.  Whatever is damaged in her brain is getting progressively worse.  And she's refusing medical treatment.  Only a matter of time until she has a fatal stroke.""Perry, don't talk like that.  You're giving me the willies."Tears trickled down my face.  They really didn't like me at all.  I just pretended, for thirty-nine years, that my family really did love me, deep down.  I suppose it was a survival tactic.  I took the napkin, wet with condensation from the icy cup and wiped my face.  Maybe I should try to get treatment for my head injury.  That last big sleep was scary.  But then I'll never get to see my dream weaver again.  Ashley.  Oh Ashley.  If only you were real.  In the here and now.  That week we spent tucked away in the little bungalow on Make Believe Island was bliss.  You wrote me a song.  And I started typing a new novel.  And you said Momma and Mike lived on the other side of the island.  If only that were real... Buy Amazon Kindle Buy eBook at Smashwords 

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Fat Bottomed Girls

Fat Bottomed GirlsBy Josephine WhiteRachel, a curvaceous New York City librarian travels to Miami Beach to attend a low carb boot camp with her soggy Scottish e-pal, Rosaleen. Inhaling the lingering aroma of lunch in an adjacent conference room, Rachel finds herself performing the Heimlich Maneuver on Steven, a Navy physician. In gratitude, he invites her to his suite to soak her screaming muscles in a candlelit bubble bath. Rachel emerges, and Steven introduces her to his colleague, Marc. They've been dabbling in their own weight loss research and feel she is the perfect specimen for their first trial. Skeptical Rachel is quickly persuaded to their eat what you like, exercise one hour a day and oh yeah, the romance is required.
Novella Available at Amazon KindleNovella Available in all eBook formats at Smashwords

Old Folks Joke #7

From my brother-in-law, John
Three old guys are out walking.



First one says, 'Windy, isn't it?'



Second one says, 'No, it's Thursday!'



Third one says, 'So am I. Let's go get a beer..'

Excerpt: Dying to Love Him Chapter One

Dying to Love HimBy Sherry Morris
Chapter OneSo Much For My Happy Ending
Tammy climbed three flights of stairs.  Her breath hitched as soon as she spied her apartment door.  Wide open.In snakeskin stilettos, she tippy-toed down the stained blue carpeted hallway.  The place reeked of industrial disinfectant.  As she stepped into the vast emptiness of her home for the last seven months, she screamed. "Help! Fire! Fire!" There wasn't a fire, but that always elicited quicker responses than "Help! Police!" Nobody came.  She blazed a trail through the apartment, checking every room and closet.  Her possessions were all gone.  Nothing remained but pink shower curtain rings dangling in the bathroom and a few shards of her Manhattan skyline mural clinging to the living room wall.She sprinted down the stairs two at a time while groping the cold metal railing.  She had a flashback of running down Beverly Boulevard in pumps and a thong tankini, but this was no publicity shoot for the gym.Like the Bionic Woman, Tammy ran across the parking lot and stormed into the rental office.  A couple sitting at the manager's desk twisted around to look at her.  The husband smiled, ogling her sculpted mocha thighs exposed up to there in a short white skirt.  The wife glared at him."Where are my belongings?"  Tammy demanded.The manager said, "Excuse me one moment," to the couple.He slipped his fingers through his greasy gray hair as he scurried around the desk and motioned for Tammy to join him near the restroom.  In a hushed tone he said, "Ms.  Payne, you were evicted.""When?  Why?  How dare you!"  She threw her arms up in the mildewy office air and then sliced through it with fists dropping at her sides.The manager stepped back."My brother is Judge Perry Payne and you'll be sorry—.""You were given the required notice.  You know there is no grace period here at Arundel Forrest."  He shot an eye over his shoulder and spoke up.  "We are the most sought after luxury apartment community in the Washington, DC metropolitan region.  You knew that when you signed your lease.  There is no grace period.  You failed to pay your rent.  Our collections department set the wheels in motion.""What?  My rent gets paid automatically by my—my money manager.  Check your banking records.  You lying little insignificant power tripping nobody." Tammy placed her hand on her cleavage, trying to keep her runaway heartbeat under her skin.  She remembered an official looking letter from the Sheriff's office that she chose not to open—thinking it contained a summons for parking tickets.  Her rent was automatically deducted from her father's checking account...  Oh-Donna!  When Daddy died, she became executrix of his estate.  She must have cut me off!  I'm gonna kill that sissy-girl!Tammy clenched her fists and stamped her feet.  Her blistered right pinky toe rubbed sorely inside the shoe.  "There has been a terrible mistake.  I'll write you a check."  She sifted through her Kate Spade bag.The manager said, "We have no vacancies.""Nobody is in my apartment.  It's empty.  And I want reimbursement for my Manhattan mural.  No—I want you to find another one and have it hung at your expense.  And I expect my personal property—.""Your apartment has been rented to another tenant.  We have no vacancies.  Ms.  Payne, you no longer live here.""Well I've never been so insulted in my life.  Just wait until my brother the judge hears about this!"  Tammy flipped open her cell phone.  The battery was dead.  "And I want my belongings right now!""The sheriff's department hauled everything to the curb.  What the other tenants didn't want was slam dunked into the dumpster."Tammy huffed out of the office and was smacked in the face with the Maryland August humidity.  Scanning the parking lot, she drew in a deep breath.  Good.  At least my car is still here.  She dug her keys out of her purse and clicked the door open on her teal Thunderbird.  Grabbing the top frame of the door, Tammy stared at the dumpster across the lot.  She swallowed the wad of humiliation in her throat, threw her head back and marched up the wooden ramp.  Her nose wiggled at the ode de diapers.  She clapped one hand across her mouth and nose.  Tammy swatted at a yellow jacket as she peeked over the top of the green metal Mecca of waste.  Broken terra cotta pots, burst open plastic trash bags oozing out coffee filters and apple cores and somebody's old webbed aluminum chaise lay scattered on the bottom.  Tammy fought back tears at the realization the dumpster had recently been emptied.  She raced back to her car, climbed inside and slammed the door on her ebony pony tail.  "Ouch!"  She opened it up, pulled her hair in and shut it.  After engaging the locks, Tammy shoved the key in the ignition and cranked it.  Good.  It started.  ~Tammy pounded on the front door of her sister Donna's Virginia townhouse.  Her pink manicure reflected back from the clean etched glass.  A hulking monster of a dog placed two paws on the other side of the door.  Tammy stumbled backwards and grabbed the wrought iron railing.  The canine emitted only a pitiful whimper.  Maybe Oh-Donna's in the shower.  The sky began to spit on Tammy.  She descended the twelve brown brick steps and marched around the matching path to the rear of her sister's end unit townhouse.  She opened the gate on the six foot tall privacy fence.  The first five feet of it was board on board, the top foot was lattice.  After latching the gate, she dashed under the deck.  Tammy tried the French doors in the basement.  They were unlocked.  She stomped in and slammed the door behind her.  Immediately turning her nose up at the overdone red walls and carpet, she hurried across a room filled with guitars, a piano, harmonicas, violins and recording equipment.  Tammy took the stairs two at a time.  Reaching the top, she flung open a white steel door and was greeted by Scooby Doo-ette.  "Hi girl, remember me?  How are you, Sugar?" Something wasn't right.  The dog was nearly emaciated.  Her ribs were showing and she wasn't her boisterous self.  "Eew!  What's that smell?"  The kitchen reeked of urine and there were three piles of poop on the hardwood floor."You poor thing!  Oh-Donna went away and forgot about you."  Tammy unlocked the French Doors in the kitchen.  The dog bolted out onto the deck.  She filled her water bowl and then scooped three cups of kibbles into the chrome food dish.  The whimpering dog slumped on the pressure treated wood deck, surrounded by terra cotta pots of wilted flowers.  Tammy let her back in.  The Great Dane immediately chomped down the food and lapped up the water.The stench in the kitchen gagged her.  Tammy opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink and dug out a trash bag, disinfectant and yellow rubber gloves.  Yanking seven paper towels off the roll on the pistol-gray granite counter, Tammy went to work cleaning the mess, all the while mumbling, "Oh-Donna you good for nothing bitch.  How could you do this to a poor defenseless doggie?"  Tammy breathed through her mouth, trying desperately not to inhale.  "And how could you be so cruel as to cut me off from Daddy's money?"  A tear rolled down her cheek.  "How could you?  You'll pay for this little sister of mine." Tammy placed the smelly bag out on the deck and then shoved the cleaning supplies back under the sink.  The air conditioning kicked on.  A cold shiver raced up her spine.  "Where is the thermostat Scooby Doo-ette?  Hunh girl?"  The dog brushed up against her silk-stockinged leg and licked her throat.  She petted the Great Dane.  The pair headed down the hallway, in search of the thermostat.  Tammy stopped in front of the living room, where she glimpsed her sister lying on the sofa.  Lifeless.  Tammy screamed.The dog cried and licked Tammy's hand.  "Ohmagod, she's dead!"  Hey, wait a minute, if Oh-Donna is dead, then that means she can't be executrix of Daddy's will and so I can get put back on the dole and hey, wait a minute—she's an old spinster, so I logically will inherit her estate as well...  Tammy sighed.  Oh, I'll probably have to split it with Perry.  But at least I'll get a nice chunk of change.  She looked the corpse over.  Her sister lay in the fetal position, with a smile curling the corner of her pale lips.  What an angelic porcelain face.  Even now, a twinge of jealousy swirled.  Oh-Donna was blessed with naturally wavy blonde hair and flawless Caucasian skin.  Tammy never did feel like they were real sisters.  Even though the Payne's adopted Tammy as a baby, she never warmed up to their natural daughter,    Oh-Donna.  But Tammy did feel an allegiance to their son Perry.  They were more alike.   Tammy stepped closer, stumbling over the clumsy dog.  Oh for the love of Prada, her tummy is moving up and down with her breathing.  There goes my plan.  "Wake up Oh-Donna."She didn't move.  Tammy shook her arm.  "Wake up!  Now!  Get up Oh-Donna." No reaction.  Tammy remembered Farts (their late father's proctologist friend) telling her and Perry that Oh-Donna had a brain disorder which caused her to fall asleep at weird times.  She recollected discovering her sleeping in the walk-in closet under the stairs at their parents' house and then she'd fainted in front of her moments later.  Tammy hugged her chilled arms, wishing the damned air conditioner would shut off.  "Wake up Oh-Donna.  Wake the frick up, you brain damaged witch.  Wake up sissy-girl." Her sister didn't respond.  It was as though she was in a coma...  "Ohmagod.  Oh-Donna is in a coma! I'm so sorry sweetie! You poor thing.  That's why the dog was starved and crapped in the house.  How long have you been like this?" Tammy snatched the cordless phone from the end table and punched in her brother's cell phone number.  "Judge Payne here.""Perry! Oh-Donna's in a coma! And the dog pooped all over the house and she's gonna die and that bitch cut me off, I've been evicted—.""What? Slow down.  Oh-Donna's in a coma? Where are you?""I'm at her house.  I can't wake her up.""Hang up and call nine-one-one."Tammy breathlessly squealed, "I don't have time to look up the number for nine-one-one.  What if she dies?" Sweet Jesus forgive me for my earlier thoughts.  I didn't mean them.  Honest I didn't.  Her stomach churned.  I'm gonna go to Hell for my thoughts.  Tears deposited mascara in her eyes.  She closed them tightly.Perry barked, "Call an ambulance.  The number for nine-one-one is nine-one-one Goddamit! I'll be over as soon as I can.  Call me and tell me what hospital they're taking her to." He hung up.Tammy conjured up the last time her sister fainted, she'd thrown a glass of water in her face and she woke up.  "Water!" She sprinted to the kitchen and picked up the dog's water bowl.  She filled it and jogged down the hallway, sloshing a trail behind her.  The Great Dane lapped it off the hardwood floor.  In the foyer, Tammy tripped on the edge of a sisal area rug and emptied the bowl onto her designer suit.  "Darn you Oh-Donna!" Her scream pierced so loudly the dog skedaddled upstairs.  "Ohhh..." Her sister groaned.Tammy dropped the chrome bowl and scrambled to her side.  She picked up her arm, pumping it up and down, slapping her hand.  "Oh-Donna, wake up Oh-Donna!"Her sister murmured, "No...! No...! Not the Donna song..." Her smile morphed into a scowl.  Tammy slapped her sister's face with both hands.  "Wake up Oh-Donna.  Now!""No.  No.  Go back.  Ash...ley..."~The damned Donna song.  Why did Ritchie Valens have to write a song with my name in it? Oh-Donna.  That's my miserable nickname.  They always use it to pull me outta my happily ever after.  I hate belonging to the Payne family.  Ashley, promise you'll be waiting for me when I come back? Don't forget to send some music to pull me back to you.  Keep Make Believe Island just for us, will ya lover boy?My stomach burned with sourness rising up into indigestion.  When I breathed in Bellissimo, Tammy's perfume, I quoted a famous bear, "Oh bother!" and opened my eyes.  There she was.  Tammy screeched, "Good! You're back with us.  Don't do that to me again Oh-Donna.  You scared me to death."I focused on my stereo system across the room.  The amber clock blinked and winked.  My song wasn't playing.  I'd set Dobie Gray's "Drift Away" on repeat and was pulled into the best dream ever.  Ashley and I had been consummating our love.  That secret agent man freed my soul and beckoned me to the passageway of erotic delight.  Darn it.  What had happened to the music that transported me to him this time? I groaned, "Did the power go out?"The pitter-patter of four enormous paws announced the dog's eminent return.Tammy replied, "What? No.  Well, I dunno, maybe.  How long have you been sleeping? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.  I shoveled out wall to wall poop in the kitchen.  And scrubbed the nasty dried pee residue.  Look at your poor dog.  She's starving."I felt her thick tongue licking my bare feet.  Plenty of slobber.  "Norma Jean" I said, weakly.  I swung my legs off the sofa and thumped onto the floor, hitting my head on the glass topped coffee table.  "Oww!" I pushed myself up, shaky on my hands and knees.  I tried to stand again.  Tammy gently helped me to my feet.  "I'm sorry, Sis.  You really are sick.  I'll make you some food.  Sit back down.""No.  Bathroom.  Quick." Tammy got me there, just in time.  She even helped me onto the seat and then she closed the door.  That was scary.  Tammy helping me.  "I'll be right outside if you need me, Sis."I did what needed to be done and washed my hands.  Oh did I look horrible in the oval mirror.  I ran a brush through my tangled hair and washed my face with some liquid hand soap.  When I flung open the door, my sister helped me stumble to the kitchen.  I plopped down in a chair.The grinder moaned as she dispensed crushed ice and then some water into a glass.  She handed it to me.  I gulped it down and wiped my cracked lips with the back of my trembling hand.  She refilled the cup.  I shivered.Tammy asked, "Where's the thermostat?""Hunh?""The thermostat.  I feel like Lucy Ricardo in the meat locker.  It's cold and raining outside.  The air conditioner shouldn't be set so low.""By the front door.  Push the warmer button.  Until you hit seventy-two."Tammy wiggled off on her mission.Norma Jean laid on my feet.  Her warm bony body felt comforting.  I stroked her head with the tips of my fingers.  "Oh poor girl.  I'm so sorry you didn't get to eat for...Tammy what's today?"My sister returned.  "Monday.""Wait a minute.  I paid the bills this morning.  She couldn't have pooped that much and lost weight in a few hours." My head hurt.  "Hey, you and Perry were leaving to go look for Momma today.  I saw you.""You did not.  And that was last Monday."We both gasped.Tammy flipped a grilled cheese sandwich she was melting in a small skillet.  She served it on one of my palm tree motif plates, with a dill pickle.  "I'm on a low carb diet.  I can't eat the bread.""Oh-Donna, you haven't eaten in a week.  And you're not fat.  Eat!""Cut it in half for me.  Diagonally?" I gazed up at her pitifully.She grabbed a steak knife from the block near the stove and slit the gooey sandwich.I took a bite, huffing on the hotness, rolling it around on my tongue.  Norma Jean hurtled to the door, barking.  The door bell chimed "Aura Lee".  I didn't want any more company.  Tammy sashayed down the hallway.  I could see her open the door.I chewed and swallowed.  It tasted so good and creamy.  It'd been so long since I'd eaten bread.  Even this old stuff she'd found in the freezer tasted so buttery and comforting.  And the gooey Swiss cheese was so yummy.My stomach reeled taking in the residual doggy potty scent.  The citrus disinfectant didn't quite kill the odor.  It stunk as if there was still a fresh pile.  I leaned down and looked under the table.  No wonder.I overheard hushed whispers.  "We've got to do something about her.  Have her institutionalized or something, Perry.  You can sign a court order, like you did with Mom.""How bad is she? Crazy? Dying? Sick?""Yeah, yeah yeah.  I feel sorry for her though.  I mean, what a way to go, losing her mind and all.  She was mumbling when I woke her up.  It was as if she didn't want to come back, she wanted to die."I sat up.  The third bite of the sandwich did it.  I was full.  And angry.  I light-headedly rushed down the hall, smack into my seven feet tall and seemingly seven feet wide fifty year old half-brother, with a shaved head.  Perry was wearing his usual emergency visitation garb—his black judge's robe.  He was always such a show off, running around in it.  Couldn't he see how silly he looked out of the court room?Perry steadied me.  "How are you feeling Oh-Donna?""Like throwing the two of you out.  How dare you come to my home, uninvited and unannounced and then talk about me like I'm retarded and can't understand your evil hurtful words?" I cried.Perry escorted me to my living room sofa.  I didn't have much of a choice but to comply, because of his size and my shaky state.I said, "No! In the recliner." He obliged.  At least I'd be able to get myself up easier from the chair.My half-brother squatted at my side.  He brushed a stray curl from my eyes.  "Oh-Donna.  You have a brain injury.  Remember when you collapsed at work and they rushed you to the hospital? The neurologist said it likely happened when you totaled your Suburban, after hitting the deer.  Remember?"Oh yeah, I remembered.  I was moments from leaving home, to catch a flight to New York for the writers' conference.  I was up for an award and I had been assigned an eight minute appointment with the acquisitions editor of Charlatan Press.  But Daddy telephoned me and said Momma was trying to kill him.  He was a pathological liar.  I'd only figured this out two years ago.  My whole life had been smoke and mirrors, all orchestrated by the great puppeteer, Dr.  Nathan Payne.  But my conscience made me check it out.  I was driving to my parents' house when Daddy called again, on my cell phone.  I knew it was him because the distinctive ring tone I'd set for him was "We Wish You A Merry Christmas." I couldn't unhook it from my belt.  I remember the deer smashing through the windshield and pinning my shoulder with his antler.  Then I woke up in the hospital.I shuddered.  "Yeah, I remember.""They wanted to run more tests and keep you under observation.  You ran off against medical advice.""So.""So your little narcoleptic-like incidents are getting worse.  You need to get some medical help.  Maybe a nice long rest away from all the stress you've been under, I know it was tough on you—." He cleared his throat, "When Dad died.  You were his favorite and all."I was his favorite.  Oh yeah, right.  That's why he named me executrix, but willed everything to you and Tammy.  Greedy needy children that you are.  That was in the will Perry produced.  Roderick Meddlestein, Esquire, my parent's across-the-street neighbor for thirty years, later revealed daddy had retained him to draw up a more recent will, leaving everything to Momma.  Perry stood up and said, "I'll call Saint Christopher's.  They have a nice unit—."I flipped him the bird.  Poked him in his big floppy belly.  "You sonofabitch, Perry Lucifer Payne! You're trying to have me committed like you did Momma, so you can sell my house and things and split the money with Tammy and laugh all the way to Hell.  That's where you are both going.  Go now! Get outta my house! You go to Hell! You couldn't keep Momma in the nut house and you won't stash me there either! I'll go to Momma.  You'll never find us."Tammy said, "So you do know where Mom is.  You sent us on that wild goose chase to Palm Springs on purpose, didn't you?"The phone rang.  Tammy answered.  She handed it to me.  I didn't want to talk to anybody.  I sniffled and said, "Hello.""Donna? This is Mike Taurus...your mother's friend..." Something in his voice didn't sound right."Yes Mike.  How are you?"I cleared my throat as I listened to him exhale.  "You're mother died in her sleep this morning."I threw my head back onto the firm gold recliner.  "No." I choked out.  "Are you sure?" What a stupid question.  If he weren't sure, he wouldn't have called me."Yes sweetheart.  She's in a better place now."I swallowed hard.  "I'll fly down right away.  Give me directions to the island.""Just go to the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach.  Call me when you arrive and I'll come and get you.  Tell the concierge you're my—you're Chloe's daughter.  They'll take care of you." The historic Fontainebleau.  Where old Mike works as a bell hop.  Love the place.Mike coughed.  "She wanted to be buried next to her babies.  Is that all right with you?"I closed my eyes.  Remembering talking to Momma on the island, by the graves of her stillborn twins.  "Of course.  Yes.  Yes.""I'll see you some time tonight or tomorrow then?""Yes." I clicked the off button.Tammy asked, "Just where do you think you're going? Have a date with a Starbucks barista? Can he hop you up on caffeine long enough to stay awake during dinner and dancing?"I closed my eyes tight and then broke into a breathless round of tears.  Oh it hurt.  My whole body hurt.  My soul hurt.  The little girl in me was dying.  I finally blurted out "Momma died.  Momma is dead.  I'm an orphan."Tammy and Perry shot looks at one another.  Buy Amazon Kindle Buy eBook at Smashwords 

Devil in the Deep Blue Sea

The first published Short Story of Sherry Morris, originally by Chippewa Publishing 2005Devil in the Deep Blue Sea

Sail off with Jeanie in this coming of age women's fiction with a paranormal twist. She is a shy child of the 70's, aching for attention. Surviving a near-drowning incident while babysitting with a friend, Jeanie tells no one. She buries the incident deep within her. Fifteen years later, Jeanie is married with a little girl of her own. She makes sure to dote on her own daughter, giving her all the love and recognition that her inner child still craves. Flying on a lavish vacation with her elderly mother, there is mechanical trouble. Jeanie must finally come face to face with the Devil in the Deep Blue Sea.

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Old Folks Joke #6

From my funny brother-in-law, John
A senior citizen said to his eighty-year old buddy:



'So I hear you're getting married?'



'Yep!'



'Do I know her?'



'Nope!'



'This woman, is she good looking?'



'Not really.'



'Is she a good cook?'



'Naw, she can't cook too well..'



'Does she have lots of money?'



'Nope! Poor as a church mouse.'



'Well, then, is she good in bed?'



'I don't know.'



'Why in the world do you want to marry her then?'



'Because she can still drive!'