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Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 60 - (November 20th-28th) Stories --- Topic: Thanksgiving DONE!

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message 1: by Esther (new)

Esther (essie7198) coolio....

message 2: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments Here we come.

message 3: by Esther (new)

Esther (essie7198) heys!

message 4: by M (new)

M | 11382 comments Is it almost Thanksgiving already? The spiders here have just finished decorating for Halloween.

message 5: by Esther (new)

Esther (essie7198) wow! that came fast! it feels like just yesterday i was writing my halloween story *thinks back*

message 6: by Esther (new)

Esther (essie7198) ;D

message 7: by Jan (new)

Jan (auntyjan) | 199 comments Esther, you have a short story right there next to your name! :D

message 8: by [deleted user] (new)

oh cooll..i'll write one and post it soon...:)

message 9: by Esther (new)

Esther (essie7198) hahaha ;D ik! it took me a while to get it to fit

message 10: by Esther (new)

Esther (essie7198) why thankies

message 11: by M (last edited Dec 13, 2010 06:21PM) (new)

M | 11382 comments An Incident at the Hoggly Woggly
by M (about 1,100 words)

Everett Mulvey had never before been arrested. When his wife had gotten the call, for a moment she had been speechless. "Why, Everett," she had gasped, "I just can't imagine!" Everett was clearly unnerved. "No, you can't," he had answered. "Call Mr. Marden." Mr. Marden was their lawyer and their longtime friend. He had drawn up leases for them a few years before, when they had bought an old apartment house as an investment. When Eunice Mulvey's daughter had decided she wanted a divorce, Mr. Marden had discreetly made the legal arrangements.

Mrs. Mulvey had called Mr. Marden. "I just can't imagine!" she had exclaimed again. "It isn't like Everett. He's never done anything in his life that might even be construed as illegal." What was left of her self-possession was crumbling. Her voice trembled. "And on the day before Thanksgiving, with my daughter coming." Mr. Marden had been reassuring. "I'm sure there's been some sort of mistake, and that we'll soon have it all straightened out."

There had been no mistake. Middle-aged Everett Mulvey had been seen by shoppers and store employees, more than a dozen people in all, rushing out of the automatic doors with a large buggy loaded with smoked turkeys, none of which had been paid for. His actions had been caught by the security cameras and recorded on videotape. From her place in a check-out line, Mrs. Davies had stared open mouthed, watching as several persons had shouted warnings. "My word!" she thought. "That's Everett Mulvey!" Then she had muttered to herself. "I wouldn't believe it if I weren't seeing it with my own eyes!" Mrs. Davies owned a dress shop on Commerce Street. She had known the Mulveys for many years. They were two of the most upstanding people she could imagine.

Everett Mulvey now sat in a jail cell, his head in his hands, looking embarrassed and confused. "I'm sorry to put you in here," Dirk Wilson, the deputy, had said to him. As the keys rattled in the big lock, Mulvey had glanced kindly, if in a bewildered way, at the deputy who had opened the cell door for him. A little, balding man, Mr. Mulvey had only a few months before helped Dirk get a loan for the small house Wilson now lived in with his wife and two sons. Dirk was obviously as much at a loss for words as was this dignified man who seemed so out of place here. What was a trusted bookkeeper at the Meryvale Bank & Trust doing in the county jail?

"No one will ever believe that." Louis Marden faced his client soberly. "We'll have to come up with something else." Everett Mulvey wore an expression of hopelessness. As they talked, the police chief arrived and opened the cell door. "Mr. Mulvey, I apologize for the inconvenience," he said. "Mr. Ballard has dropped all charges. You're free to go." Chief Coleman stood in the cell door as Everett Mulvey merely looked up at him, dazed. Marden took his client gently by the arm. Mulvey rose, and they departed.

Melvin Ballard, a friend of the Mulveys, was owner and manager of the Hoggly Woggly. He had been out of town when the incident had occurred. Upon his return, hearing of the incident, he had immediately phoned Chief Coleman and requested that charges be dropped. "There's no doubt a reasonable explanation for what has occurred," Ballard said to Coleman. "You and I both know Everett Mulvey. He isn't the kind of man who would steal anything."

It was too late, however, to stop it from becoming the talk of the town. Ladies exchanged looks over coffee in kitchens, over shopping bags in parking lots: "Can you imagine that Everett Mulvey would do such a thing? I've known him all my life!" "He seems such a nice man!" "Seventeen smoked turkeys, all piled up in that buggy." "Doris told me he was like a crazy man, headed for the doors." "They always said Eunice's daughter was a wild one. It's a wonder Everett still has his sanity." "I heard all the turkeys were put right back in the meat section, where they came from." "Verna--her husband was the arresting officer, you know--well, Verna told me that Mulvey seemed relieved to be arrested."

It was the day before Thanksgiving. Dr. Schlotzky was on call at the State Sanitorium but agreed to see Mulvey in his private office. Eunice Mulvey insisted on accompanying her husband. "Could be hallucinations," Schlotzky agreed at last, reluctantly. "You've never had them before, though. You have no record whatsoever of psychiatric problems." Mulvey shook his head. Schlotzky was making notes. "What intrigues me is the mesmerizing effect you say it had on you." He looked at Mulvey, perplexed. "You say it rendered you incapable of resisting?" Mrs. Mulvey, her brow furrowed, contributed unhelpfully, "And he hadn't gone to to store to buy a turkey at all, had you, dear?" She leaned toward the psychiatrist, as though to divulge something potentially important. "I had forgotten to buy stuffing mix."

Deputy Coltrane's wife had called him at work to remind him to stop at the Hoggly Woggly on the way home. It had been a long day for Coltrane, the kind of shift deputies expect during the holidays. Disgruntled, he was walking down the refrigerated aisle in the supermarket, when he heard a voice. "Hello, Donny!" He looked around. The store was crowded with shoppers who had stopped after five for last-minute items. Lynette, one of the dispatchers, glanced up and waved from where she stood in front of the cheeses. She was pretty, and her smile reminded him of what his life had been like before he had married Regina.

It hadn't been Lynette's voice he had heard, however, but a siren-like voice, low and seductive and commanding. "Over here," the voice summoned, timeless and beautiful. As if he no longer had a mind of his own, he found himself wandering down the aisle. He was supposed have gotten something, but he couldn't remember what it was. "We've been waiting for you," the alluring voice entreated. All thoughts of why he had come there or what his day had been like, or who was waiting for him at home, quickly vanished. "You're the only one who can rescue us," the voice pleaded. There was something imperative he must do. The awareness of it filled him. Glancing about warily, he wheeled his cart toward the selection of smoked turkeys.

message 12: by Scribble (new)

Scribble Orca (scribbleorca) And the sheriff spoke turkey. More importantly, smoked turkey.

message 13: by M (new)

M | 11382 comments Hahaha! Thank you, GN. I hope you're having a nice holiday.

message 14: by Scribble (new)

Scribble Orca (scribbleorca) Thank you! I think I'm going to have to change that status update....my holiday commences in one month! All this Thanksgiving good cheer....I hope you enjoyed yours.

message 15: by Jan (new)

Jan (auntyjan) | 199 comments An Incident at the Hoggly Woggly, or, The Siren Song of the Smoked Turkeys?

message 16: by M (new)

M | 11382 comments That's it! Watch out for those smoked turkeys.

message 17: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments Once again, because the rest of us failed to write this past week, or at least write a short story....

M HAS WON! Congratulations!

message 18: by Stephanie (last edited Nov 30, 2010 10:03AM) (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments Ooops! Should I delete my poll?

message 19: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments Oh, okay. Phew. I guess I should write something this week...

message 20: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments I just need to stop procrastinating. I already told my mom I'd have my NaNo book edited by December 10th. All right, 17 pages a day here I come!

message 21: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments Thanks. Good luck with your papers.

message 22: by M (new)

M | 11382 comments There's some software I've been intending to design. I haven't gotten around to it. It lets you pick what author's style you want your story or essay or research paper to be in. You feed the story to the program, pick a style, and the program rewrites it in the style you want. Pretty neat, huh?

message 23: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments That is cool! Briliant!

message 24: by M (last edited Nov 30, 2010 05:22PM) (new)

M | 11382 comments Alex, I certainly hope you told your teacher that you're sane, like I am.

message 25: by M (new)

M | 11382 comments What? Your writing style is very entertaining. You could make a living at it. Who knows about teachers, these days?

message 26: by M (new)

M | 11382 comments I wouldn't kid you about your writing. It's very good. Your drawing isn't bad, either. I got interrupted before I could comment on the drawing you posted. I think that, with practice, you could be very good at it. The face is realistically proportioned, and so are the arm and hands. The model is obviously good looking, and that always helps. I've never been good at drawing hands and feet, so I try to find some way to keep them out of the picture.

message 27: by [deleted user] (new)

yeah Al the Kevin Bacon commercial is really wierd. LOL

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