Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

It’s been well over
an hour since the drops ran
down the steaming stall

and Alex sang soap-
ily in the shower, “All
or nothing at all . . .”

What had Alex sung,
M wondered, pulling clothes out
of the laundry bin,

his yesterday’s laun-
dry plans sundered by the la-
zy mood he’d been in.

The washing machine
made blorping sounds as M wiped
the long counter dry

and dumped out the morn-
ing’s coffee grounds and scribbled
a nonsense reply.

Along came Tavy
and Ursula the bear in
the late afternoon,

but stopped when they saw
someone bathing there, in the
fresh-water lagoon.

“A thousand pardons,
ma’am!” said Tavy. “I came to wash
this stinking bear.”

In shadows thick as
Creole gravy, she turned, led
Ursula elsewhere,

through the dim glooms of
forest glades. As Alex sighed
and reached to undo

her wrap, along the path
came Spades, clutching a towel,
washrag, and shampoo.

Seeing Alex, he
stopped, nonplussed, thinking at first
that she was Tavy.

She grabbed the cutlass
and thrust it out, her water-
y image wavy.

Spades looked as insou-
ciant as he was able
in such a story.

“You’re the girl who was
strapped to a table in some
laboratory.”

“Just stay right where you
are, Miss,” Spades put his hand up,
confused, muttering,

“How did I get in-
to this?” There was a light breeze,
the leaves fluttering.

He turned and headed
away, down the trail, then stumped
his toe on a a root.

“Ow! Well, bat shit!” she
heard him wail, then he stumbled
in briars, to boot.

Soon all was quiet
and Alex alone beside
the sleepy lagoon,

under her feet soft
sand and rough stone, in her mind
a Sinatra tune.

LoL! Still laughing!

The figure with the
long harpoon, through deep shadows
of the little path

that led away from
the lagoon, crept stealthily,
eyes glinting with wrath,

unaware that a-
mong the trees, following him
with anxious surmise,

her light steps muffled
by the sea breeze, was a black
cat with amber eyes.

Alex, that’s horrible! The poor man.

As M limped along
the narrow track, Ursula
came through the trees, fast.

“Hi there, girl,” he said,
then looked back, puzzled, as the
bear went bounding past.

M heard a roar, heard
a man’s wild scream. He wondered
if it were a dream.

Alex, I just do this for fun. You don’t need to reply to these things! Ursula hasn’t ever attacked a human. All she has to do is rear up and roar. Frank will run for cover, then empty his britches out.

I wouldn’t want this to get back to Edward, but she does it though her power an an empath. She has an immediate sense of the neural circuits of anything she encounters, and she has the power to cast a bolt of lightning. She causes a person’s neurons to fire simultaneously and repeatedly. The effect is the same as if the person had had a thousand strokes.

Do you mean Edward or Frank?

Aphrodisiac
That I am, birds mate outside
In front my window

Okay, Amrie, a tough one to follow. Sorry, but couldn't resist a bit of corniness.


Outside the window
a pair of birds watched the pair
move to become one.

Birds have no sense of
decorum. With them, two is
always a quorum.

LoL! M, that is soooooo funny!

I don’t know how I missed #1631. Sometimes the new stuff doesn’t show up in red on my computer.

Is it? I’m so glad you’re back! I was afraid you had gone to see the relatives who don’t have Internet access.

Three weeks? Ouch. I'll be gone for a week towards the end of the month. (as I will next year) Music Camp calls. Finally drawing near!

That'll be good. For better our for worse there's no cell service or internet at camp. Personally I think that's a blessing.

Now for something truly saccharine.


I was without qualms:
Her two palms were love's quorum
and this heartbeats' psalms.

Simple as heartbeat
Love a-stirring, joy during
is what love must be.

She’s old now and strange
and full of psalms, the lady
from 29 Palms.

She's old now and fat
That little cat
That lives with the lady.

Excellent play on words, M. LoL. And Jan, a great little twist in both the form and the sense.


She thought it was gone,
Her all black fat little cat,
On a moonless night.

But the cat came back
Still as black as black can be,
With the dawn's sun rise.

It was a good night,
The black night for the black cat.
Not so for the rats.

The cat can't catch rats
Now, the cat is too fat for
Rats, and/or moving

Instead, every day
she bites all fingers, mindless
of yelps that occur.

Though afraid of snakes,
the cat tried out for a part
on Monty Python’s

Flying Circus: the
cat that flies through the air and
lands in a bucket.

Cat with a motto
Always look on
The bright side of life.

The black cat sat back
to caterwaul his motto
when his muse went slack.

Hello Al! That is very funny!

Of course, I am supposed to be writing the next instalment, but am instead blogging, as well as slogging around the WSS.

I’m in good company, then! Caterwauling and peppermint sprigs.

Goodnight, pirates!

“You’re, oh, so easy
to confuse,” she pulls the clip.
Her hair comes undone.

She tosses her head,
this freckled muse, with that smile--
pale-eyed Alison.

The man with no hair
imagined himself to be
something he was not.

The man with no hair
wrought with a bald shining crown,
imagined himself a king.

Sometimes he found him-
self irate to be minus
an unruly mop

where now there was a
shining pate, but he didn’t
miss the barber shop.

He’d heard strange sounds in
the morning air, coming from
their bathroom tile walled.

What he’d seen when he
looked in there: his wife and--well,
it had shocked him bald!

Thank you, Alex! I
am appalled to write haiku
about being bald.

A sudden thunder.
Morning drops her bar of soap
in her antique tub.

Startled awake, I
can’t help but wonder what foul
business lies ahead,

as a hollow sound
of distant thunder fills me
with a trembling dread.

Alex (Al) wrote: "Guy wrote: "The man with no hair
imagined himself to be
something he was not."

Heh heh. I don't know why I love this one so much, but it's wonderful."
Thanks Al.

M wrote: "Sometimes he found him-
self irate to be minus
an unruly mop

where now there was a
shining pate, but he didn’t
miss the barber shop.

He’d heard strange sounds in
the morning air, coming from
thei..."

M, that is so funny!


Charyx wrote: "The man with no hair
wrought with a bald shining crown,
imagined himself a king."

Charyx, nicely done!

M, this is a poor follow up to your effort, but my mind seems filled with foul foolish play.


I ran a foul fowl
through a hardened steel grinder
to make the fowl fair.

The taste of ground fowl
barbecued with apple smoke
fared the fair's fare fair.

Guy, you love to play with words, and it’s always delightful to read!

As the witches in Macbeth say, “Fair is foul and foul is fair . . .”

Chewing, he grimaced.
“That’s some dry bird.” I smiled and
didn’t say a word.

Thanks Al and M. Yes, I do love to play with words.

M, that is lots of fun. I'm off to do Saturday chores. I hope I get the chance to respond to it, as it is fraught with opportunity! LoL.

Have a good day.

Chewing the gray mouse
the brown owl wondered whose tail
her fate would soon tell.

The poor owl chews Tums,
to no avail. Up it comes.
Thereby hangs a tail.

OMG that is so LoL funny!

Sir Toby the owl
belched his stomach's discontent
and flew off his food.