Re-written for David’s Weave Written Weakly #192
where Josie asks us to write a conversational poem,
no more than 20 lines long, inspired by Frank O’Hara’s
“Metaphysical Poem”. Revised from a 2024 story with
my recurring characters, “George & Martha”,
this is my response. Thanks, Josie!
Tag: Arguments
In Your Dreams
Written for Esther’s “Can You Tell A Story In” – #306
in exactly 52 words using these five prompt words:
‘seal’, ‘growl’, ‘allergic’, ‘haphazard’, and ‘polka’, and
for Gerry’s & Sue’s “Weekly Prompts – The One Day
Prompt” – #17. Here’s my flash in exactly 52 words.
Remains Of The Day
Rochelle, our gracious host at Friday Fictioneers,
has challenged us to write a story of 100 words or less,
using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
Too many arguments, too many years of spiteful words. She’d had enough.
He walked into their bedroom where she was packing. “How can you do this, like it was nothing?”
“Like it was nothing? Do you really think this is easy, like tossing out yesterday’s leftovers?”
“Twenty-three years, Beth. You can’t throw that away.”
“Would you just let it be, Sam, and go to work.”
“I’ll see you when I get home, Beth.”
“Oblivious” she murmured.
Of course she was gone when he returned. Nothing left but remains of the day.
And he didn’t have a clue what to do.
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is Steve Tyrell with “A House Is Not A Home”
All text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
The Brush Off: A Dectina
Dectina Refrain:
This refrain is written as follows:
1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables
3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
as one stand-alone line.
Don’t
Worry
About me
I’ll be just fine
Better without you
Don’t write me an email
Don’t send me anymore texts
I don’t want you hanging around
Take your toothbrush out of my bathroom
Don’t worry about me I’ll be just fine
NAR©2024
This is The Reverend Horton Heat with “Where In The Hell Did You Go With My Toothbrush?”
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
Big Whoop
It’s a fiver today,
including prompt words from
FOWC with Fandango
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday.
“Debonair, sophisticated and charming” sighed Alice Carter. “I just love that movie. Cary Grant is so good-looking and classy. They don’t make movies like that anymore, you know?”
“And that Ingrid Bergman is some beauty, too” replied Alice’s husband Ralph. “Those smoldering eyes, high cheekbones, graceful neck – a real looker, that one.”
“And so chic, too, Ralph. You always knew a real lady when you saw one. Well, I better start dinner. I’m making your favorite – sausage and potato casserole.”
“I hope you made a lemon meringue pie for dessert.”
“Of course! Have we ever celebrated your birthday without your favorite pie? I know what you like, Ralph.”
“No, we have not, Alice. The kitchen is your milieu and no one makes a lemon meringue pie like you, my little chickadee!” Alice blushed with delight; Ralph’s compliments were rare these days.
Returning to the den after starting dinner, Alice found Ralph was watching the weather channel. “My goodness! That weather girl’s pants are awfully tight! They’re a bit unseemly for TV, I think. Don’t you agree, Ralph?“
“Oh, I don’t think so at all, Alice. She’s got a lovely figure; she probably works out every day. I’m sure her parents instilled in her an excellent work ethic. You know, I remember reading in some countries the TV weather girls are topless.”
“Topless? Why, I never” Alice declared indignantly; Ralph switched the channel to the news.
Alice clucked her tongue. “Why aren’t there more delightful men on the news, men like that handsome Peter Jennings?”
“Because he’s dead” replied Ralph.
“How about Mike Wallace? He’s so dapper.”
“Also dead” Ralph reminded Alice.
“Look at that clown, Glenn Beck, wearing jeans and sneakers on a TV news show! Give him a beanie and he’d look just like one of those little rascal kids. What ever happened to that nice Matt Lauer?”
“Fired for overt misconduct and sexual harassment” replied Ralph.
“Good Lord! I don’t believe it! Well, what about Bill O’Reilly, Eric Bolling and Charlie Rose?”
“Fired, fired and, oh yeah .… fired. Alice, can I please have a moment of peace and quiet to watch the news?”
“Well, pardon me for living! No need to be rude, Ralph” she sniffed. “I’m going to check on the sausage casserole.”
When she returned Alice stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh my God, Ralph! What on earth are you watching now?”
“It’s still the news, Alice. In fact, it’s called ‘The News Channel’. News all day, every day.”
“The ‘X Rated News Channel’, you mean! No wonder those poor men got fired. What red-blooded guy could resist floozies like that showing off their goods on national TV? They look like hookers! And look at you sitting there in your underwear all bug-eyed. Disgusting!” Alice harrumphed.
“Put a lid on it, Alice! You don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. These women are professionals. They’re lawyers, professors and judges, not some bimbos with sketchy qualifications who just walked in off the street.”
“Yeah, they’re highly qualified alright …. as adult entertainers!” Alice snapped. “Take that one on the end with the dyed blonde hair and skirt so short I can practically see Niagara Falls! What happened …. did they run out of fabric? And the other one with the dark hair. Who is she …. one of the Kardashians? With those spike heels and implants, I’m sure she can get a job as a pole dancer!”
“Woah, woah, woah! That’s enough, Alice! Look, this here is Megyn Kelly. She has a law degree, is a journalist, an author and a world-famous political commentator as well as a news anchor. The dark-haired one is Kimberly Guilfoyle. She’s a political analyst, an attorney and former First Lady of San Francisco. Now she’s engaged to Donald Trump, Jr.”
“Well, big whoop!! If you think I’m impressed, Ralph, you’ve got another thing comin’. You’re delusional!”
“I don’t care what you think, Alice. I’m sure their families are very proud of them. Besides being absolutely stunning, they are brilliant. Now why don’t you just run back into the kitchen and let me enjoy my one indulgence.”
“Indulgence??” Alice countered. “So you admit it’s all about cheap thrills and nothing to do with the news. You’re such a pig, Ralph!”
“Alice, your ignorance is showing. Can we please stop talking about this? How’s that sausage coming, anyway? I’m starving!”
Alice saw red. “Here’s an idea for you, Ralph. Get Kimberly what’s-her-name to see to your sausage. I’m sure she’s highly qualified! And one more thing …. Happy Effin’ Birthday!”
NAR © 2024
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge -Weather
This is Judas Priest with “You’ve Got Another Thing Coming”.
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
WOUNDS REVISITED
It was December 17, 1997 – one mere week after the birth of our first baby. This was to be a special time alone for Stephen and me; Christmas as a new little family.
Stephen set up the tree and brought down from the attic the decorations I collected over the years – heirloom pieces lovingly given to me by his mother. Inside the large box sat a smaller box; cradled inside was a treasured ornament belonging to Stephen’s great-grandmother, a delicate crystal snow globe passed from one generation to another.
The sudden, unexpected knock on the door quickly jarred our tranquil mood. On the threshold stood my parents, suitcases in hand. My heart sank. Perhaps it was wrong of me but I loved my husband’s mother more than my own.
Stephen showed my parents in and the dynamic in the room instantly changed.
My mother had the ineffable ability of showing up at the worst time – always unannounced, uninvited and unwelcome. I’ve often wondered if she knew how I felt about her surprise visits and didn’t care. Every event, momentous or ordinary, had to be about her.
Mother’s greetings were interwoven with recriminations about it being mid-morning and I was still in my nightgown. Then she swooped in, taking my sleeping son from my arms; disturbed, he wailed pathetically.
Turning abruptly to show my father his screaming grandson, the hem of mother’s coat swept against my cherished ornament, sending it flying.
It shattered; the jagged shards tore into my wintry heart.
NAR © 2023
I WANNA ROCK!!
“‘Cattle Decapitation‘?! What the hell kind of music are you into now, Colin? Sounds like another really depraved rock band from Sweden or Britain – that’s what you’re listening to these days, isn’t it? Like that other group you worship – ‘Liquid Graveyard’. What the hell does that even mean, Colin? Your mother and I have had it with this heavy metal music, if you can even call it music, which you insist on blaring down here; we’re losing our minds. You have absolutely no respect for anyone else. Your poor grandmother is afraid to come out of her room and eats all her meals behind her locked door. Frankly it’s nothing but noise and I can’t blame her one bit for keeping herself locked away. I mean, it was bad enough when you were into ‘Motörhead’ and that Lemmy freak but we kept our mouths shut; kids go through phases, I know that. Then you started getting into some pretty disturbing stuff, groups like ‘Autopsy’ and ‘Cannibal Corpse’. Really, Colin! It’s damn upsetting to the whole family and we’re seriously on the brink of kicking you out of the house. What do you have to say for yourself? What do you want to do with your life?!” Colin’s father, Mark, was apoplectic with rage.
“I WANNA ROCK!!” Colin wanted to scream at the top of his lungs but he wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction. Instead, he looked up at his father from the beach chair in his basement bedroom and calmly asked “Are you done spewing your uninformed and ponderous statements, Dad, or do you have more to say? If you’re done, I’m gonna ask you to leave my room and let me enjoy my music. If you’re not, feel free to continue your rant. You don’t mind if I put on my headphones, do you?” Colin knew he was adding gasoline to the fire but at this point he didn’t care any more. Obviously his father had been going through his stuff; he never takes the time to listen to what he has to say and has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Actually comparing ‘Cattle Decapitation’ to ‘Motörhead‘ – what a pedestrian misconception!
“Why you little son of a bitch! You’re telling ME to get out of YOUR room? This is MY house; I just let you live here! We fixed up the basement for you when your grandmother moved in. We could have easily had you share a room with Kyle but we realized you needed your own space. And how do you repay us? By turning this place into a shit hole! Look at your crap – magazines, posters, CDs, video games, boxes of God knows what spread out all over the place. No wonder your mother practically has a panic attack every time she has to come down here to use the washing machine. She’s almost as scared as your grandmother! It breaks her heart seeing what you’ve done to this room. You know, she always wanted to make this her arts and crafts area but gladly gave up the space to accommodate you. Have you ever shown your appreciation, even once? No, you haven’t! You’re such a selfish and spoiled ingrate!” Colin stared at his father, fascinated as he watched his eyes bulge with every word and the throbbing veins in his neck looked like they were going to explode.
“Since we’re talking about me, Dad, other than my taste in music and the fact that you think I’m a selfish ingrate, have I ever done anything you‘re ashamed of? I’m a good student and I’ve got a job. All the stuff you call “crap” – I bought everything you see here with my own money. I never asked you for a dime to buy CDs or video games. That’s a lot more than you cay say about other kids my age but you‘ve never acknowledge that. You just constantly browbeat me about my music. Dad, let me ask you a question. Didn’t you have your favorite groups when you were my age, maybe even some your parents didn’t approve of?” Colin asked.
Mark was momentarily caught off guard; he’d never heard Colin talk like this before. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time they actually had a civilized conversation; they always just screamed at each other. Who was this kid?
“Of course we did, Colin. We listened to lots of different groups like ‘Guns N’ Roses’, ‘Mötley Crüe’, ‘Whitesnake’ and ‘Quiet Riot’ but that music is no comparison to the crap that’s out today, especially this garbage you’re listening to. Yeah, maybe my father gave me some grief now and then – it’s a father’s job to keep his kids in line – but back then the music we listened to was really good. You know, your mother still loves The Beatles? You can’t get any better than that.”
Colin sprinted out of his chair. “Dad, do you honestly think you’re telling me something new? I know all about those groups you used to listed to. You think I’m only aware of what’s popular now? Give me a little more credit than that! At least my mind isn’t closed off like yours. I like ‘The Beatles’, ‘Stones’, ‘Led Zeppelin’ and ‘Deep Purple’. But I accept the fact that my music isn’t for everybody and you should at least acknowledge that and try to be a little more broadminded instead of sticking it to me every chance you get. Did you ever think the reason I stay down here listening to my music is because you and I never just talk about stuff?”
Mark exhaled deeply. “You make some valid points, Colin, you really do but at least the names of the groups we were into weren’t twisted. Tell me, what the hell kind of name is ‘Cattle Decapitation’, for crying out loud? It’s not normal! What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”
“Come on, Dad. It’s just a name. Didn’t you listen to ‘Poison’ and ‘Fine Young Cannibals‘ and ‘Nine Inch Nails’? And since you mentioned “twisted”, what about ‘Twisted Sister’? What kinds of names are those? Besides, you don’t know the first thing about ‘Cattle Decapitation‘” Colin replied.
“Well, it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what the name means, Colin. It’s repulsive!”
“And there you go again, making a judgment call with no real information to back it up! Dad, can you cool down long enough to let me tell you something about them?”
Mark sat down heavily on the side of Colin’s bed. “Go ahead, Colin, but it’s probably not going to change my mind.”
‘‘Well, you might be surprised. And I’m not making any of this up. It’s all on the internet so Google it if you don’t believe me. ‘Cattle Decapitation’ is an American group, not Swedish or English. That’s right – from right here in the US of A, just like your good old boy Ted Nugent! And they aren’t famous for cutting off the heads of innocent cows or sheep. Their songs actually protest the mistreatment and consumption of animals and the abuse of the environment. I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear that the members of the band are vegetarians, just like me – or haven’t you noticed I gave up eating meat two years ago? They aren’t savages. When you think about it they’re not all that different than ‘that fab little group’ Mom loves so much; they’re just expressing themselves in a different way.“
Mark looked at his son with skepticism. “I don’t know, Colin. That just doesn’t make much sense to me. I mean, listen to them; that lead singer sounds like he’s possessed by demons!”
“That’s because they’re angry about the situation of the world and they’re trying to get our attention! Their song ‘Bring Back the Plague’ is all about COVID-19 and is the painful, truthful humor we all need right now. And it was filmed responsibly on cell phones while the band was in self-isolation. Do us both a favor, Dad. Forget the music for now and just read the lyrics to their songs, then compare them to the groups you listened to. That’s all I ask; think of it as a compromise. After that, if you still want to kick me out of the house, that’s your right.”
“Ok, Colin, I’ll take a look but I can’t promise anything.”
Mark went to the fridge and grabbed a Bud Light. He climbed the stairs to his den, flipped on ‘Metallica‘ and Googled ‘Cattle Decapitation‘.
“Well, I’ll be God damned! he said after reading for half an hour. “The kid actually knew what he was talking about.” Mark switched off ‘Metallica’ and searched YouTube for ‘Bring Back the Plague’. Putting on his headphones, he took a swig of his beer and for the first time in ages he actually paid attention.
NAR © 2023
Originally published in 2020.
Resuscitated, reprised and revamped
to complement my post for
today’s edition of In The Groove
at The Rhythm Section.
Please stop by and check it out.
https://rhythmsection.blog/
The Elephant's Trunk 