Family – Page 7 – The Elephant's Trunk

Boys Will Be Boys

May 20, 2024May 20, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Stream of Consciousness – “What’s that smell?”,
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “humility” and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “departure”.

Growing up, it was just me and my sister – two girls doing girl things. And while we weren’t always best of friends, it was just the two of us. It wasn’t my fault that my mother went into labor smack in the middle of my sister’s 4^th birthday party; after making a hasty departure for the hospital, my mother arrived just in time for me to be born …. on my sister’s birthday …. and she’s never really forgiven me. I mean, she says she has but deep down there’s resentment. But I digress.

Bitterness for being born on her birthday aside, we managed to get along ok. And we both had a bunch of little girlfriends who’d come over the house to play and swim in our pool. There’s a definite advantage to having the only pool on the block – even if it was inflatable and barely three feet deep. We always had lots of friends over but there were never any boys around and, if an interloper did show up, he was quickly shown the way out before he had a chance to dip his you-know-what in our pool!

For the first six years of my life, I had very little contact with boys .… except for my cousins and they didn’t count. In elementary school boys were just tolerated; they were looked upon as excess baggage. Of course, that all changed when I hit my teen years and realized boys had potential. I had a couple of crushes early on but nothing earth-shattering. Then, at the ripe old age of 17, I went on a blind date with a guy named Bill and together we learned all about boys and girls, how they were so wondrously different and incredibly well-made for each other. I was stunned by how much I didn’t know about boys.

So, wouldn’t you just know it! God, in his infinite humorous nature, decided to bless me with only boy babies. All those years of playing with my baby girl dolls, changing their diapers fashioned from paper napkins, powdering their petite girlie bottoms, all that didn’t come close to what these boys were packing! It didn’t matter how well I knew Bill’s anatomy; he didn’t wear a diaper and I had never changed one …. at least not a boy’s. Talk about a rude awakening!

Let me just explain something very quickly here. When infant girls are getting their diapers changed, sometimes they pee but it’s a dainty little trickle that gently disappears into the absorbent pad under them. When infant boys are getting their diapers changed, parents put on a hazmat suit because that nozzle has a mind of its own and it is gonna spray wherever it wants.

Oh sure, parents can buy little wee-wee teepees to hold over the wee-wee while their baby boy giggles at them, but most times that thing is flying around like an errant garden hose and the pee goes everywhere. And, of course, that’s where men first learn to pee with no hands – yawning and stretching and placing their hands behind their heads in a very satisfied “look-what-I-can-do” sort of way. Usually in those situations, there will be spillage. I have found, for the most part, the male species is not very discriminating and is quite happy to just “hit something“.

Which brings me to the heart of this story.

I love my boys and, in all humility, Bill and I did a good job raising them. BUT, nature will take its course no matter what we do. And let me tell you, there is nothing …. and I mean NOTHING …. like the overwhelming musky, barn-like odor that punches you in the face when you open the door to a boy’s bedroom. For the love of all things holy, what is going on in there? How is it possible for boys …. little or big …. to ravage so many briefs, boxers or tighty-whities in one day, not to mention the now-fossilized face cloths (and sometimes my good hand towels)?

We’re all adults here and you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Well, I finally reached the end of my rope. It became unbearable for me to do my teen sons’ laundry, let alone keep up with it, so I threw down the gauntlet. I led the boys to the laundry room where I proceeded to write on my washing machine with a Sharpie. In all the corresponding receptacles were the words “DETERGENT GOES HERE.” “BLEACH GOES HERE.” “SOFTENER GOES HERE.” I’m sure they didn’t believe me when I said I was done doing their wash. After two weeks of their laundry piling up and them running out of clean clothes and their sheets desperate enough to literally walk off the bed and leap into the washing machine, they finally got the message!

As the old saying goes, boys will be boys, and I never had a problem with what was going on in my sons’ bedrooms …. within reason; if I thought something dangerous was happening, I’d be in there in a flash. I’d just had enough of cleaning up their messes. Now they’re grown men, good men, married with children, and they get to deal with their own kids’ smells, sprays, spills and secretions.

And when I see them lugging a basketful of laundry to their washing machines, I chuckle and know I did them a huge favor.

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS May 18, 2024

Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Humility

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Departure

One of my readers once commented that I have a song for every story. Well, who am I to argue?

From the Broadway show/movie Hair, this is “Sodomy”.

Poem

For My Daughters-In-Law On Mother’s Day

May 12, 2024May 12, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Daughters-in-law are our grandchildren’s mothers.
As such, they carry our fortunes downstream.
Under their guidance, our hopes become others’,
Giving their force to a much larger dream.
How lucky we are to have you for the carer
That nurtures the hearts of our hearts, that they may
Each be a lover, a giver and sharer,
Remaking the world in their image each day.
So do we all, like streams from the mountains,
In time become joined in the souls we have made,
Now mingled forever, eternal companions,
Linked by our love in a bond that won’t fade.
As you in your noontime your work of love do,
We watch from the hillside, grateful for you.

This is “My Wish For You” by Rascal Flatts

Music Blog

Friends & Family Friday 5.10

May 10, 2024May 10, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Many rock fans will undoubtedly remember the only child of George Harrison when the then 24 year old Dhani Harrison appeared at the Concert For George in 2002. Two years later he was at his father’s 2^nd induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (once as a Beatle and then for his solo work) where Dhani performed “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” alongside Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, Jeff Lynne and Prince.

Dhani Harrison has since released a great deal of work as a solo artist, as part of the bands thenewno2 and Fistful of Mercy. Thenewno2 have been credited with the album design for George Harrison’s “Brainwashed” and “Dark Horse Years” box set, the Concert for George and the menu design for the 2005 Concert for Bangladesh DVD. Dhani Harrison has also scored many movies and television shows.

Of course the physical resemblance to his father is incredible but the similarity in voice and stage presence is undeniably strong. During an interview, George once commented that he said to Dhani “You look more like me than I do”; that was George’s humor to a T. I chose to feature one of the Beatles’ songs on which George sang lead so you can experience just how strong the Harrison family genes really are.

This is Dhani Harrison with “Savoy Truffle” from 2014’s “Georgefest” at the Fonda Theater in Hollywood.

Thanks for joining me today. See you on the flip side. 😎

Short Story

Lower Forty Soliloquy

April 27, 2024April 26, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less, using this image as inspiration. This is my story

“Where you been, girl? You got anythin’ goin’ on in that head of yours besides them nonsense rhymes? Your Ma’s been cookin’ all day and she sure coulda used your help with them black-eyed peas but you was nowhere to be found. You best not-a been hangin’ ‘round that good-for-nuthin’ boy again, girl. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times … keep away from him! There’s somethin’ not right with that boy! He’ll bring nuthin’ but misery. You start messin’ around with him and you’re gonna live to regret it. Then try and find yourself a decent husband! No man I know wants used goods!
Now stop makin’ excuses, girl! I’m your Pa and I know when you’re lyin’ … just like you was lyin’ about not bein’ out by the river. You know how I know that? ‘Cause somebody done seen ya. I see by the look in your eyes that it’s true. Yeah, you was seen by that new preacher man. And that ain’t all, girl. He said you was with that troublemaker and you had your heads together like you was plottin’ somethin’ real private-like.
I swear, girl, you ain’t got a lick a sense between ya. Stop this dang foolishness ‘cause it’s gonna lead to no good! C’mon now, girl … dinner’s waitin‘.
Anna, your cookin’ is fit for a king!
What you goin’ on about, woman? Jesus! I seen that boy just yesterday. Now, why’d he go do a fool thing like that!”

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-26/04/24

This is “Ode To Billie Joe” by Bobbie Gentry

NB: Bobbie Gentry remarked that the message in Ode To Billie Joe revolved around the “nonchalant way” the family discussed Billie Joe’s suicide. She also said she included the verse about something being thrown off the bridge because it established a relationship between Billie Joe and the daughter, providing “a possible motivation for his suicide after meeting with her“. Gentry told The New York Times in 1969: “I had my own idea what was thrown off the bridge while I was writing it, but it’s not that important. Actually it was something symbolic. But I’ve never told anyone what it was.” The last time Bobbie Gentry appeared in public was at the Academy of Country Music Awards on April 30, 1982, almost 42 years ago to the day. Since that time, she has not recorded, performed or been interviewed. A 2016 news report stated that Gentry lives a secluded lifestyle in Los Angeles; she has refused to speak to reporters about Ode To Billie Joe or to give interviews.

Short Story

It’s All Going To Be OK

April 24, 2024April 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Six Sentence Story ~ “tonic” and
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Confessionals ~ “sweet”

It doesn’t happen very often but last Sunday was a rare babysitting day for us; our usual days to watch our 4-year-old granddaughter Colette are Tuesday and Thursday but both our son and daughter-in-law (Colette’s mom & dad) had to work over the weekend. That was a rarity for them as well, but one is a librarian and the other a doctor and with both the library and the hospital open every day of the week, they sometimes pull a weekend shift but seldom do their rotations coincide as they did last Sunday.

My husband Bill has been having good and bad days this month, thinking about and missing his twin brother who died suddenly on April 2, so our son has been extra considerate, asking if watching Colette at this time is too much of an imposition; we answer without hesitation “Not at all …. in fact, just the opposite!”

Colette is always fun to be with but recently she has been a true blessing and a much-needed distraction …. a tonic, a balm for our sad and broken hearts, a healing magical concoction of love, joy, sunshine and humor blended with a combination of innocent wisdom and an intuitive nature that defies her tender age.

We were looking through some old photo albums with Colette …. snapshots of Bill and his brother as babies, as kids growing up on City Island, our wedding photos …. and even though Colette knew Bill’s brother and saw them together many times, seeing those photos left an impression on her, especially the ones of Bill and Jim when they were babies; it’s true, you know, that when our kids and grandkids are little and they look at us, they only see us as we are and have no idea we were ever any younger than we are right now.

One particularly sweet photo of Bill and Jim brought tears to my husband’s eyes and though he tried to hide his tears, they spilled through his fingers causing Colette to ask why he was so sad and we explained that Uncle Jim was gone, that he had left us to be with God in heaven; she thought for a second, put her little hand on Bill’s and said “Well, that’s ok, Grampy; don’t worry because God will take good care of him and it’s all going to be ok.”

Sunday Confessionals : Sweet

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Stevie Wonder with “You Are The Sunshine Of My Life”

Bill and Jim, suntanned towheads in Montauk, 1950

Short Story

The Floor Lamp

April 17, 2024April 16, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Six Sentence Story
where the prompt word is “present”

When little Summer was just a few days old, her mother Laura started the tradition of sitting with her in the nursery to read stories before bed; in the corner of the nursery was an old floor lamp that used to belong to Laura’s grandparents, Momma and Poppy, and it filled the nursery with a soft, soothing glow.

As a little girl, Laura spent a lot of time with Momma and Poppy and the three of them developed a deep and loving bond so when Momma and Poppy passed away, the one thing Laura asked for was the floor lamp which was in the bedroom of their house where little Laura napped; now, each night Laura would tell baby Summer all about her beloved Momma and Poppy.

This one particular night as Laura and Summer were sitting in the nursery, the glow from the floor lamp caught the baby’s attention and she was captivated by it, something Laura thought was a sweet connection, especially since the lamp originally belonged to Momma and Poppy, Summer’s great-grandparents, but then Laura noticed a pattern developing, a pattern that would repeat two or three times most nights at Summer’s bedtime where the baby would gaze calmly and quietly at the lamp, then slowly begin to coo, gurgle and giggle for a few minutes before becoming animated – smiling, eyes glowing, arms waving, laughing and babbling loudly – then back again to quietness but still very much attracted to and aware of the lamp …. even when the floor lamp was off, Summer was attracted to it.

One afternoon when Summer was around 3 years old, Laura heard her talking and laughing, just like she did when playing with her stuffed animals, and when Laura peeked into Summer’s room expecting to find her little girl on the bed, she was surprised to see her in the big over-stuffed chair where Laura read bedtime stories; the floor lamp was lit and Summer appeared to be having a happy and lively conversation – not with her stuffed animals but with the lamp.

When Laura asked Summer who she was so happily talking to, the little girl was quick to reply “Momma and Poppy, of course; can’t you see them, Mommy?”

Laura caught her breath for a moment but she was not completely shocked for she knew Momma and Poppy’s lamp was special – the very reason Laura wanted it in her own home, but she didn’t realize how special it was; Laura never tried to stop Summer from talking to the lamp for she truly believed the spirits of Momma and Poppy were present and Summer’s conversations with them were real …. and who are we to say they weren’t. 🪽

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is “Guardian Angels” performed by John McLaughlin, Larry Coryell and Paco De Lucia

Short Story

The Cruelest Joke

April 13, 2024April 12, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for The Unicorn Challenge, where we are asked
to write something creative in 250 words or less
by using the photo below for inspiration.
This is my story.

The moment we stepped out of our car, the temperature felt like it dropped twenty degrees and a cold wind whipped my black-stockinged legs. We cringed at the frigid slap in the face and huddled deeper into our jackets as we climbed the steps to the church.

We found the seats reserved for us …. second pew directly off the center aisle. I clutched my husband’s hand and felt his body quiver as he raggedly exhaled, desperately trying not to cry. The tears would come, but on his terms.

The pews on both sides of the church were filled with people celebrating a life and mourning a loss. Everything leading to this moment had been a maelstrom of emotions; there are very few things that shake us to our core like a sudden death.

A man appeared at our pew; I recognized him as the manager of the funeral home. He spoke softly to my husband and together they started to walk to the back of the church. I looked up at my husband’s face and he gave me a sad smile.

There was a heavy silence in the church, mourners sitting side-by-side lost in a fog of grief. Had someone played us the cruelest joke?

As one, the pallbearers heaved the casket onto their shoulders and the organ began to play. That’s when I saw my husband walking behind his brother’s coffin, our widowed sister-in-law on his arm, and there were tears.

Now we will try to move forward.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-12/04/24

This is Al Green with “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart”

Flash

Halcyon Days

April 12, 2024April 12, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Friday Fictioneers.
The challenge: to write a story of 100 words or less,
as inspired by the photo prompt below. Here is my story.

After the wake, a few of us went back to our sister-in-law’s house. A question tap-danced in my brain: now that my husband’s brother was dead, was his widow still our sister-in-law or will she eventually be erased from the familial slate, ties severed, connections lost?

The room which they call ‘the office’ was a confusion of books, photo albums and memorabilia piled high like Babel.

Flipping through yellowed snapshots, we spotted her, the widow, in every image …. halcyon days when we all spoke the language of youth and happiness …. and my question was answered.

She is family.

NAR©2024
100 Words

12 April 2024

This is Jim Capaldi with “Old Photographs”

Poem

Go Gently: A Musette

April 9, 2024April 8, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

For Jim

Sudden
Dreams in the night
Undone

Weeping
A pain too deep
Creeping

Broken
No goodbye words
Spoken

This is Kate Rusby, “Underneath The Stars”

Flash

The Cruel Mother

April 8, 2024April 7, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #358 ~ Superscript

Just like something out of the evening news.

Did the attractive young woman, a former nurse and mother of one toddler, actually feed her little boy bleach or was it just a dreadful accident?

How could any jury not believe the clean-faced white woman in the proper skirt and blouse as she tearfully recounted the events of that horrific morning?

But they did believe her and only the most perceptible viewer in the courtroom or the living room caught the slightest cold-blooded superscript curl of her top left lip.

NAR©2024
89 Words

Weekend Writing Prompt #358 – Superscript

This is Emily Smith with “The Cruel Mother”

Flash

The Suit

April 7, 2024April 7, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge ~ Black

Bill stood at his open closet mumbling and cursing under his breath as he pulled out one pair of pants after the other. He was in a mood that has no definition or perhaps many definitions, none of them good. He was searching for something to wear for the funeral of his twin brother, Jim, who died suddenly on April 2. Had it been anyone else’s funeral, Bill would have just pulled out a suitable pair of pants and a dress shirt, but this was his brother and he said he needed his black suit. He couldn’t find it in the closet and he was getting angry but, of course, the errant suit was not the cause for his consternation. I walked to the closet and spotted the suit immediately. Handing it to Bill, I hugged him and kissed his cheek. As I ironed his shirt I could hear him crying softly. “Why’d you have to go and die, Jim?”

Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – Black

This is Brooks and Dunn with “Believe”

Flash

Ponte dei Sospiri

April 7, 2024April 7, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Greetings, friends. Some of you know, others do not. We had a death in the family last week … my husband’s twin brother passed away on Tuesday. I’ve taken some time off from writing but now I’m ready to return. You may read about our loss here if you are so inclined. Thank you for your thoughts. This is my story today.

It wasn’t in the evening when a calm tide rolls out, nor in the early morning as the glorious sun rises but rather in the middle of the day, just after noon when he crossed the bridge and left us stunned and lost. One minute he was with us …. happy, strong and alive. The next he was gone, in an instant, in the blink of an eye, he crossed the bridge and slipped away. We had no time to prepare, no time to say “Goodbye and fare thee well, brother”. He was just gone, peacefully and silently across the bridge.

5 April 2024

This is “Bridge of Sighs” by Robin Trower

Miscellaneous

With A Full Heart

April 7, 2024April 6, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Sincere thanks to all my dear WordPress friends for stopping by to read my April 2 post about the death of my brother-in-law, Jim …. my husband Bill’s twin brother. Thank you especially to those who took a moment to leave words of comfort; that simple act on your part has truly touched me and helped both Bill and me to cope with this tremendous loss. I see how many of you care and my heart is full of gratitude and love. I’m sure you realize why I have been absent from WordPress until now and I know you understand why I have not commented on any of your sites in recent days. It all feels so strangely surreal to us. Things here at home are beginning to settle down and we are now trying to adjust to the new normal in our lives …. a world without Jim. Bill is also grateful to you all for taking the time to share our grief. I will return to posting tomorrow. Thank you, my friends. 🩶 🕊️

~ Nancy

This is “The Art Of Dying” by George Harrison

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.” – Kahlil Gibran

Uncategorized

When Death Comes

April 2, 2024April 9, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Bill & Jim at their childhood home, City Island, The Bronx, NY circa 1950

My husband encouraged me to write today; I didn’t want to …. I felt like I should sit by his side, hold his hand, cry with him but his tears and his grief have not hit home yet.

One minute he’s walking around the house in a daze, the next he’s playing LEGOs with our 4 year old granddaughter. It’s good for her to be here; she’s keeping him distracted.

You see, my darling husband Bill’s twin brother Jim died today around 12:30pm. His wife Lynne went upstairs to their bedroom and found him on the floor. She tried desperately to breathe life into him but he was gone. Just like that, alive one minute and dead the next.

Losing a sibling is so hard; losing an identical twin is unfathomable. I am Bill’s wife but his twin brother was his other half and I say that with nothing but love in my heart. They shared their mother’s womb, their crib, their playpen, their bedroom, their car. They went to school together, worked in the same marina together for many summers. Bill graduated Iona College first in his class; Jim was second. They even failed the army physical together!

They were on polar opposites of the political page and their taste in women couldn’t have been more different but in every other way, they were as one. Of course they looked the same and talked the same, they had the same laugh, the same sense of humor. They loved watching hockey and going fishing together. Now that will never happen again.

If you look at the last photo on the bottom of the page you’ll see them, two little suntanned towheads sitting side by side fishing with their older brother, dad and grandfather. Now everyone in that boat is gone except for my husband, Bill.

All I’m thinking about right now is what a great time Jim and Lynne had last week. They spent the whole week in North Carolina with their son, his wife and two teenage grandchildren. They texted photos of everyone on the boardwalk, arms around each other, looking incredibly happy.

Bill and Jim. The Twins. The Richy Twins. When people saw one, they saw the other. Now there’s only one and nothing from this moment on will ever be the same.

Until we all meet again, rest easy, Jim. Our hearts are broken.

This is Joe Brown, “I’ll See You In My Dreams”.

Short Story

Dinner Out

March 30, 2024March 29, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

This is The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less, with this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my story.

The smell of old cooking oil reheated too many times stuck in his throat and clung to every inch of the Chinese food takeout joint. He hated being here, his uncomfortable demeanor only making him feel ridiculously out of place. And why were there only two tables in the whole shop when there was clearly room for more. He felt naked, center stage, all eyes on him yet no one paid him any attention.

How the hell did he let himself get roped into this? His granddaughter, a 15 year old package of rebellion and maladjustment, talked him into a dinner out. He didn’t like eating anywhere but at home but he realized in the fourteen years since she was in his care, he’d never taken his granddaughter out to eat, not even for an ice cream.

He wondered if he resented her. In truth it was his daughter, the girl’s mother, he resented for running off like she did and leaving her year old tot with him. What kind of mother does that? One just a kid herself, stuck with an unwanted baby and a desperate need to be a teenager. Well, she took off one night and never came back.

Now, here he sat, waiting for this willful girl who was too much like her mother for her own good to return from the toilet. She’d been in there far too long and he sat staring at his past knowing she’d run off, leaving him alone again.

NAR
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-29/03/24

This is Del Shannon with “Runaway”

Short Story

Matinee Idol

March 30, 2024May 12, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

This is The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less using this photo
as inspiration. Here is my story.

There was never a time when my father didn’t sport a mustache. A thin, elegant line when he was a young man, a bit more pronounced as he grew older but always neat, always refined.

Dressed in his army uniform, he was every bit the matinee idol and it was obvious why Mom fell for him.

When we visited him in Albany Medical Center the morning of his surgery for multiple aneurisms – both abdominal and aortic – his grey hair was neatly combed, mustache trimmed. He was 82 years old and the doctors gave him a bleak 6% chance of surviving the operation. Yet, survive he did.

My sister’s daughter – my father’s eldest grandchild – gave serious thought to postponing her wedding until my father was stronger. He insisted she “do nothing of the kind”. He told us all, in no uncertain terms, that he would never miss his first grandchild’s wedding …. and he didn’t. Dressed to the nines in his tux and bow tie, perfectly groomed silver mustache, we all held our breath as they walked hand in hand onto the dance floor for what would be their last spin together.

When my dad died, we provided the undertaker with a photo for reference. The inexperienced mortician did a lovely job tending Dad but, looking back and forth from the photo to my father at peace his coffin, the undertaker knew something was amiss.

It was the first time any of us had ever seen Dad without his dashing mustache.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-29/03/24

This is “Celluloid Heroes” by the Kinks

Short Story

The Playground

March 26, 2024March 27, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for Six Sentence Story, incorporating the word “slide”,
Fandango’s Story Starter #141 and four additional word prompts

Allison arrived home to discover, propped up against her front door, a mysterious package addressed to her but with no return address; in these dangerous times, opening a strange package with no identification is a reckless thing to do and Allison isn’t the type to take chances, no matter how curious she was about this unexpected delivery.

Unlocking the front door, Allison gave the package one last glance and went inside but she couldn’t think of anything other than the box on her porch and eventually gave up, heading back out; the more she looked at the box, the more one sticking point nagged at her: the print on the hand-written shipping label looked extremely familiar.

Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, Allison realized the handwriting was her father’s; a thousand thoughts flew through her mind as she tried to figure out what he could have sent her, finally coming to the conclusion that her dad must have packed away a few items for her which belonged to her late mother .… items of sentimental value …. before he sold the old family house and settled into a senior living facility.

No longer wary, Allison excitedly picked up the package and brought it into the kitchen where she placed it on the counter and with a knife carefully followed the taped-up folds until she was able to open the box; resting atop the packing material was a small envelope with her name on it written in the same handwriting as the shipping label and inside the envelope was a note which read, “Dear Ali, I remember how much you loved these and I wanted you to have them, maybe one day for your own little girl” ~ Love, Dad.

Puzzlement creased Allison’s forehead as she gently pushed away the bubble wrap to discover one of her favorite toys – a miniature playground set complete with working swings, a seesaw, monkey bars, a slide and sandbox; there was even the little family with their pet dog which she had named Tess.

Now all smiles, Allison carried the pieces into the sunroom and placed them on the side table next to her chair near the window; they looked so happy and gay with the sun shining on them and Allison sighed, not at all surprised to feel a tear running down her cheek.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

Fandango’s Story Starter #141

FOWC with Fandango — Stick

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Miniature

FOWC with Fandango — Print

Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Smiles

This is “Lazy Day” by Spanky and Our Gang

Short Story

Fiasco In Florence

March 25, 2024March 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

When my sister Rosemarie had her 16^th birthday, our parents decided it was the perfect time for our first family vacation in Italy. Plans were made for the summer …. three weeks traveling around Italy and another three weeks visiting family in Sicily.

One of our stops was Florence where we stayed in a breathtaking guesthouse called Pensione Mona Lisa. Our accommodations were similar to an apartment but without a kitchen; all meals were served in the communal dining room. Our parents took the master bedroom on the first floor while Rosemarie and I shared a loft bedroom which also had its own bathroom.

All the rooms were exquisitely decorated with beautiful furnishings and expensive rugs. In our bathroom there was a claw-foot tub, separate shower, a pedestal sink and an enclosed area with the toilet. Next to the toilet was an odd-looking fixture neither of us had ever seen before. It was the same size as the toilet but with extra faucets and handles and a strange sprinkler contraption in the center of the bowl. When we turned the faucets on, water shot out straight from the sprinkler; we immediately turned off the water, then sat there trying to figure out just what the hell the damn thing was.

After considerable thought, we came to the conclusion it was for foot-washing. Happily kicking off our sandals, we turned on the water and bathed our hot, tired feet. We dried off with the small paper guest towels in the bathroom and tossed them into the bowl, then pulled one of the levers expecting the towels to flush away. Well, they didn’t. In fact the ‘footwasher’ very quickly filled with water and overflowed as Rosemarie and I tried desperately to stop it.

Before we knew it, the bathroom floor was covered with water which leaked out into the bedroom, soaking the rug. We watched helplessly as the water trickled down the stairs into the main living section, drenching the gorgeous rugs. Our mother saw what was happening and rang the front desk for help but it was pretty much a lost cause.

The pensione staff arrived and started yelling and screaming at us in Italian as other guests hurried over to see what all the commotion was about. The rugs were ruined and we were responsible for the damages. The rooms became uninhabitable and when we inquired about other lodgings, the pensione manager told us they were all booked and we had to find another place to say for the remainder of our time in Florence. After paying off the front desk clerk, he begrudgingly made a few calls for us; we were told there was a small hotel in Pisa that could accommodate us.

Despite all the angry hotel personnel, the name-calling, the expense for damages, the inconvenience of relocating and our parents general frustration, nothing could have prepared them for the embarrassment and mortification they felt explaining to their sixteen year old daughter and her tween sister the purpose of a bidet.

This is “Only Sixteen” by Sam Cooke

Short Story

Tall Ships

March 23, 2024March 22, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

This is The Unicorn Challenge.
Our objective: to be creative in
250 words or less, prompted by
the photo below. This is my story.

Battery Park. The glittering lights of tall ships parading up the Hudson River. New York at its brightest. The Big Apple – excitement and energy down to its core.

So how the hell did I end up in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, hopelessly in love with my Amish husband Abel, married for four years with three kids and twins on the way?

Good old revenge. I wouldn’t play ball with my boss so instead of being assigned to photograph the tall ships in New York Harbor, I was banished for a month to cover the “Plain People’s” Summer County Fair.

What I thought was going to be a nightmare was a delicious surprise. When the handsome, lusty Abel Jansen and I locked eyes, it was “Goed gevoel” – a “good feeling” from head to toe and all parts in between.

Being accepted into the Amish community, let alone marrying, is difficult but we had a few things going for us. I was a city girl, not afraid of getting my hands dirty. We were mature. Most Amish were married before age 20; Abel and I were both 26.

But the clincher was the serendipity attached to my name …. Menno Jakob.

The most revered men among the Amish were Menno Simons and Jakob Ammann. The elders were convinced I was descended from them when I was actually an Italian Jew from Canarsie! Who was I to argue?

Abel was my tall ship and I was his splash of Manhattan sparkle. Nothing else mattered.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-22/03/24

This is “Sailing” by Christopher Cross

Short Story

Muffins And Croissants

March 16, 2024March 16, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Our gracious host Jenne at The Unicorn Challenge
has offered up this photo prompt hoping to inspire us
to creatively write something in 250 words or less.
This is my 250-word response to the photo prompt.

The year was 1987. Bill and I were celebrating our 15^th wedding anniversary by going on a cruise to the Bahamas with our sons, aged 10 and 8.

On the third day we made plans to disembark at our next port of call …. St. Thomas …. and asked one of the stewards to recommend a nice beach. He gave us a name, saying it was not a touristy place and if we were lucky, we’d see some iguanas. Having had a pet iguana before, the boys were excited.

We ate breakfast in an outdoor cafe with thatched umbrellas before heading to the beach, bringing with us some leftover croissants and muffins too delicious to leave behind. The steward was right; the beach was deserted. It was pristine with the clearest, bluest water we’d ever seen. After a couple of hours, there was still no sign of iguanas anywhere and our boys were sorely disappointed. We searched a large rock outcropping, knowing the little lizards like hiding in crevices, but none were there.

Rounding the rocks to check out what was on the other side, we stopped dead in our tracks. It was like a land before time with iguanas the size of small dinosaurs sunning themselves on the beach. They were magnificent and, aside from their enormous whip-like tails, appeared harmless.

Cautious yet unafraid, we slowly approached as the herbivores watched from heavy-lidded eyes. To our sons’ utter delight and amazement, iguanas enjoy being fed leftover muffins and croissants!

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-15/03/24

This is “Island Boy” by Kenny Chesney

Miscellaneous

Freedomland, USA

March 15, 2024March 15, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

The layout of Freedomland; I’d forgotten it was in the shape of the US!

Back in 1960, before the first Six Flags opened in Texas, there was Freedomland USA …. a fantastic, 85-acre amusement park with rides, restaurants, attractions, shopping, etc. And one of the things that made this wonderland so amazing was the fact that it was about 20 minutes from my house in The Bronx, NY. We would sit on our front porch at night and watch the fireworks coming from Freedomland.

“What else was so special about the place?”, you ask; well, it was the music hall known as the Moon Bowl!

In an attempt to attract visitors of varying ages, the Moon Bowl featured swing bands from the 1940s and contemporary pop stars. There was a stage and a 15,000 square foot outdoor dance floor. Among the performers who entertained us (and who I saw) were the Count Basie Orchestra, Paul Anka, Bobby Darin, Connie Francis, Bobby Rydell, Chubby Checker and more.

A ticket to Freedomland; check out the price of admission!

Somewhere in my attic I have many tickets and autographs tucked away with all my Beatles scrapbooks and R&R memorabilia. I was a very lucky girl who got to meet a lot of famous people! Unfortunately, Freedomland USA went belly up after just five seasons but I have memories that will last forever.

Today I am featuring one of the performers I saw at Freedomland, the place where I fell in love with him when I was 10 years old …. the one-and-only Bobby Darin, definitely tops on my list. He can bring me out of a lousy mood or help me chill when I’m feeling stressed out.

There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the incredible talents of Bobby Darin. He was the consummate performer, a one-man show who composed songs, conducted the orchestra, sang different genres of music, danced, played the drums, piano, harmonica and guitar, did impressions, acted in movies and dazzled us with his Sinatra-like charm, mannerisms and sense of humor. My fellow-New Yorker was born Walden Robert Cassotto on May 14, 1936. It was a time when ethnic-sounding names such as his were frowned-upon by music producers; they felt something more white bread Americana would help these performers with strange names go further in the biz so Walden Robert Cassotto became Bobby Darin.

Bobby was only 37 years old when he died .… recurring bouts of rheumatic fever as a child left him with a seriously weakened heart. Believing his time on earth was limited, he lived his life to the fullest, pushing himself to all he could. In 1973, after failing to take antibiotics to protect his heart before a dental visit, Bobby developed sepsis. On December 19, 1973, a four-person surgical team worked for over six hours to repair his damaged heart. In the early morning hours of December 20, Bobby Darin died in the recovery room without regaining consciousness. That day the entertainment world lost one of its brightest stars and my own heart broke a little.

“Mack The Knife” is undoubtedly Bobby Darin’s most famous hit …. a cool, finger-snapping song about the notorious killer, thief and arsonist, Macheath (AKA Mac the Knife). The song was originally written in 1928 for the German dramatic play Die Dreigroschenoper (Threepenny Opera) and sounds totally different than Bobby Darin’s version.

Another one of Bobby’s hits is “Beyond The Sea”, a jazzed-up version of a romantic love song based on the classical piece called “Le Mer” by French composer, lyricist, singer and showman Charles Trenet. The 2004 movie Beyond The Sea was released starring Kevin Spacey in the role of Bobby Darin. In case you only Spacey for his dramatic roles and have never seen him in a musical role, you’re in for a treat. Spacey is a master of impersonations and sang all Bobby Darin’s songs himself. He became Bobby Darin and if you like dramatic biographies with a splash of nightclub routines, you’ll love this movie.

Anything else you want to know about Freedomland, USA or Bobby Darin you can Google or read in Wiki. I’m just so grateful I had a chance to spend my pre-teen years in a place like Freedomland where I got to see Bobby Darin up close and personal and got his autograph. People have asked me “Why don’t you sell some of this stuff? You’ve got a treasure trove packed away.” Yeah, it’s a treasure trove and that’s exactly why I’ll be keeping it for as long as I live.

This is Bobby Darin performing his greatest hit, “Mack The Knife” on the Ed Sullivan Show, May 31, 1959.

Now “Beyond The Sea”, also from the same airing of the Ed Sullivan show.

In this video, several of the many talents of the fabulous Bobby Darin are put on display. Bobby sings, plays bluesy harmonica, boogies on piano and performs a blistering Gene Krupa style drum solo. Live on the David Frost Show, 1972 …. 18 months before his death.

I hope you enjoyed taking a walk with me down Memory Lane …. not just sharing my fond, girlhood memories of Freedomland but remembering the remarkable Bobby Darin.

See you on the flip side. 😎

Flash

Frosted Flakes

March 15, 2024March 15, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Our lovely host, Rochelle, at Friday Fictioneers
has offered up this photo prompt to inspire us
to write creatively using 100 words or less.
This is my 100-word story from days in Montauk.

“Surf rods are the heaviest and longest rods you can get. They’re designed to cast very far distances and pull in heavier fish from breaking waves. Depending on which bait you’re using – worms, squid, bunker – you’ll need to choose the right rig.”

Bill quietly explained to our pre-school boys, blissfully ignoring the fact that the rods were four times taller than them.

“This is a science, boys. You have to be patient and psyche out the fish.” The kiddos were gleefully lost in their mini boxes of Frosted Flakes.

Bill was content; this was cherished father/son time. Pivotal first steps.

NAR©2024
100 Words

15 March 2024

This is “Just Fishing” by Trace Adkins

Uncategorized

Berry Picking

February 29, 2024February 29, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge has once again
challenged us to write a Six Sentence Story
using the prompt word “nail”. This is my story.

When I first saw him I thought I was hallucinating (was this a real person or a fear-induced illusion?) and I knew I had to remain perfectly still and quiet – my very life depended on it.

I had no idea how long I’d been there – certainly long enough for my skin to have turned red, my mouth parched, my lips cracked and I remember being stung and bitten by insects and digging my nails into the palms of my hands to keep from crying out, but I recall now … we were picking flowers and berries in a sun-filled field … we had been following a stream and unknowingly wandered far from home when I caught sight of a bush hidden deep in a shady area; the plant was heavy with ripe blackberries and I couldn’t resist running to the bush, happily filling my bucket with the deep purple fruit.

I was busy plucking berries when I heard screams – not the usual giddy, playful squeals of young girls but awful shrieks of terror and I started to run back only to see my three sisters encircled by a group of Indians, hulking and menacing men, blocking the girl’s attempts to flee; they wore breechcloths across their midsection, moccasins and no shirts, their faces painted and their heads shaved except for a center strip of upright long hair and I knew immediately they were the dreaded Mohawk.

They tugged the girl’s long blonde hair, poked them with sticks and tore at their starched white dresses.

I wanted to shout out but was too afraid and I hid while my sweet little sisters were raped and raped and raped.

At 15, I was the eldest and I was supposed to protect them; how could I be such a coward?

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Albinoni’s ‘Adagio In G Minor”

Short Story

Death In The Family

February 21, 2024February 21, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge is asking us to
write a Six Sentence Story using the word “pass”.
This is my six sentence story.

The house is quiet tonight ….eerily quiet …. for all the lights are off and only the glow of candles shines dimly through the curtained windows, performing a ballet of shadows on the walls and ceiling; every so often a door softly opens, barely perceptible murmurings are audible, then the door gently closes as intermittent muted sobbing creeps up from the parlor.

I sit on my bed huddled under a blanket, a tiny flashlight flickering a pale yellow beam on my diary as I jot down my memories of the day; I must be quiet because my mother will be very upset with me if she discovers I’m still awake at this late hour.

My window is open just enough to let in some fresh air and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke wafts up into my room; I peek out to see my mother’s uncles sitting on the back steps silently smoking their unfiltered Lucky Strike cigarettes, their black armbands starkly visible against their plain starched white shirts.

I tip-toe across the length of my bedroom, praying the old wooden floorboards beneath the well-worn rug will not creak and ever so slowly I turn the glass doorknob; the hallway is dark but I can detect a muted light downstairs and I scurry nearer to the staircase railing for a better look as I sit there hugging my knees asking myself if I should creep downstairs and take a peek.

A few hours earlier the ambience of the house was much different, still subdued but active as delivery men came and went and acquaintances passed through the hallway into the parlor to pay their respects while my mother and the other women labored in the kitchen like mute worker bees, preparing trays of food for the constant flow of visitors, and my father, along with my uncles, positioned the many floral arrangements throughout the parlor; we children sat quietly on the two enormous matching sofas along the side walls, eyes downcast, confused and uncharacteristically subdued, occasionally glancing toward the walnut casket resting atop a platform in the center of the room and quickly look away.

Around 6:00 we were quietly whisked away into the dining room where we silently ate our supper, then returned to the parlor to continue our vigil; it had been a long and sorrowful day, the longest day in our young lives, for the family matriarch, my great-grandmother had died.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Enrico Caruso singing “Mamma mia, che vo’sapé” (“My mother, what did you know?”)

This recording was made in September 1920, less than a year before Caruso’s death. His health was failing and the recording equipment was, by our standards, primitive. Despite all that, the power and beauty of his voice remain unmatched.

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.

Flash

Pennies From Heaven

January 26, 2024January 26, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers has
challenged us with this photo prompt.
Here is my 100-word response.

Sunny Hill Farm. The name alone made me smile.

We never went on vacation when I was a kid; that was for “rich people”.

You can imagine my unbearable glee when it was decided in the summer of ’59 that we would leave The Bronx for five glorious days in a place called Sunny Hill Farm.

Looking at the brochure we declared it to be “perfect” with lush rolling hills, horses, swimming, picnics, barbecues, fresh air and sunshine everywhere.

We loaded up the car, singing all the way to our vacation nirvana …. where it poured and poured for days.

26 January 2024

This is “Pennies From Heaven” by Billie Holiday

Uncategorized

La Cucina Di Mia Madre

January 25, 2024January 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge is challenging us once again
to create an amazing Six Sentence Story,
this time using the word “access”;
this is my response.

Due, no doubt, to the cold weather, I have been doing a lot more cooking indoors, eschewing the barbecue grill for simmering pots of tomato sauce, bubbling trays of lasagna and stews roiling in slow cookers – a skill which comes naturally to me since, as I have mentioned many times recently, I hail from a long line of talented cooks, with my mother topping the list; she instilled in me at an early age a love of hearty and delicious home-cooked meals and the know-how to prepare them.

Mom was a Sicilian immigrant who attended school only until the age of 9; with her own ailing mother unable to maintain their home, my mother assumed the role of nurse, cook and maid …. devastatingly unfair, but that’s the way it was in 1925 – kids forced to abandon their childhood, growing up in a hurry.

My mother and her cousins did not have access to YouTube or TikTok or cooking channels on TV; there were no cookbooks in her small apartment …. just recipes galvanized in her brain from watching her grandmother and her aunts holding court in the kitchen.

Many of the ingredients my mother used were home grown, such as vegetables, herbs and fruit, and the items that didn’t come from the ground were all bought from the local grocer and butcher, the price haggled and haggled once again until my mother was satisfied; her purchases were of the finest quality and she always returned home with change in her purse.

When I, as a kid, would come home from school or a day outside with my friends, I would always be greeted with the sublime aromas of something magical cooking; I would float into the kitchen as though carried by angels, my nose twitching, and I would dreamily ask “What’s for dinner?”

So many mornings I was awakened by the steady thump thump thump of the base of my mother’s palm kneading and pounding the dough for her exquisite double crust pizza filled with nothing but sweet, caramelized onions sautéed to golden-brown perfection; to this day after too many years and countless attempts, I still have not figured out her secret to that culinary slice of heaven.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

“Mambo Italiano” featuring Rosemary Clooney singing and Sophia Loren dancing.

Short Story

1917

January 16, 2024January 16, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Lisa is serving as host for today’s dVerse Prosery prompt.
We are to write a piece of up to 144 words and include the line
“But that smile was the last smile to come upon her face”.
This is my response for Lisa’s dVerse Prosery prompt.

We were living in Tennessee with my Aunt Luella and Uncle Boz after my mam and pap were killed in the South Carrollton, Kentucky train wreck of 1917. Just five days before Christmas and our family was torn apart. My mam and Aunt Luella were sisters; mam’s death nearly destroyed Auntie.

Back in January we all had such high hopes for 1917. My cousin Henry, Aunt Luella and Uncle Boz’s firstborn, was set to graduate high school in June, the first one in the family with that distinction. Aunt Luella was so proud of Henry, she couldn’t help smiling thinking of Henry’s bright future.

But that smile was the last smile to come upon her face.

Henry enlisted in the army one month before graduation. He died in the Battle of Cambrai on Thanksgiving Day.

We lost too much that year.

dVerse — Prosery — January 15

This is Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home” sung by Paul Robeson

Story

THE CALL

December 5, 2023December 5, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Out of the blue the call arrived. It was late and I was beyond tired after a day of Christmas shopping and decorating. We were tempted to let it go straight to voice mail, but Gary thought it might be important.

“Gary? Hi, it’s Alice from the adoption agency. I hope you and Carol are sitting down! We have a baby for you! Can you come by in the morning to talk?”

Gary stood up; his face registered shock. “What? My God! Are you sure?” Completely convinced that something terrible had happened, I grabbed the phone from Gary. “This is Carol Wheeler. Who’s this, please?”

It was not bad news …. just the opposite. It was elating, magical, top-of-the-world, The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year news!

A baby in need of a home! A baby for us to love!!

“Yes!! We’ll be there! Oh, Alice. I’m so happy! Thank you so much!” I was rambling.

Dumbstruck, we stood there …. then pandemonium broke loose. Laughing, crying, hugging, kissing, dancing, tossing tinsel around the room like crazy people. Anytime would have been amazing but for this to be happening during the holiday season was wondrous!

We didn’t think …. or even care …. to ask “boy, girl, age, etc., etc.”? After eight years of trying to get pregnant and faced with disappointment each time, an incredibly strong and loving stranger was presenting us with the most precious gift imaginable.

“Gary, do you realize in a few days we will be a family of three?” I asked breathlessly.

IN A FEW DAYS!!

All tiredness forgotten, we raced to the attic for the plastic bins of assorted baby items. There in the corner stood the bassinet; it seemed to glow in the darkness. I believe at that moment I heard angels singing. We reverently carried it down to our room. I leaned into Gary, overcome with elated exhaustion.

And then the phone rang a second time. We stared at it, afraid to answer, sure it was Alice calling to say the baby’s mom had changed her mind, there would be no happy family for us.

I reached for the phone and wearily, warily said “This is Carol.”

“Carol, it’s Alice again. Sorry to bother you and Gary but there’s been a development.”

I closed my eyes waiting for the words I didn’t want to hear. Not now, not at Christmastime. Alice continued talking and I felt my knees growing weak.

Stunned, crying, all I could manage was a hushed “Oh, Alice! Are you absolutely sure? How could this be happening? Yes. Yes, I understand.”

I hung up the phone without even saying goodbye. I was already crying when I turned to face Gary. He held me close and whispered “Shh. It’s ok, honey. Everything will be ok. Another baby is out there waiting for us. It’s just a matter of time.”

On tiptoes, I reached up to give my darling husband a little kiss. I murmured “I love you”, my mouth just brushing his. I looked into his eyes and spoke, my voice breaking.

“Oh, Gary. There was a mix up at the hospital and Alice was given the wrong information.”

Gary started to speak but I gently placed my fingers on his lips to quiet him. I continued.

“Alice called just now to ask how we feel about adopting twins.”

I’m quite sure neither of us was breathing at that moment. Gary’s eyes grew wide as the realization sunk in and I let out a little laugh. Gary put up two fingers and mouthed the word “Two”. I nodded and replied “Two. Twin girls”.

We fell to the couch, a huddle of tears and laughter and hugs. Then I heard my love’s voice next to my ear: “I told you another baby was out there waiting for us!”

Twins! Oh, what a joyful Christmas this will be!

This is Mark Tremonti with “The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year”

I hope you’ll join me today
for an all new In The Groove
as I welcome in the holidays.
Stop by for some great tunes!
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Flash

GRAVY MEAT

November 11, 2023November 10, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

It’s time once again for
Friday Fictioneers.
This is how the photo
prompted me.

It was a tradition in my house when I was a kid; Mom made macaroni with gravy meat every Sunday and Thursday.

Nobody called it pasta; it was Ronzoni macaroni. And we didn’t say “sauce” either; it was “gravy”. Meatballs, pieces of pork, beef and lamb, sausages and bracciole – that’s Sicilian “gravy meat”.

Mom’s cooking was absolutely i ncredible. With the steamy kitchen window open just a crack, the aromas wafted out into the night, beckoning aunts, uncles, cousins and a few neighbors to dinner. Our apartment was always full.

The bright light wasn’t really necessary; everyone just followed their nose.

10 November 2023

FOWC with Fandango — Incredible

This is Louis Prima and “Come On A My House”

Short Story

A BLOODY MESS

October 19, 2023October 18, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Robert hadn’t realized that he’d passed the point of no return until he found himself frantically searching the kitchen for anything that would remove blood stains. After getting an urgent call for help from his brother Daniel, Robert raced over to see what was the problem. Now he was knee deep in a drift of dastardly deadly deeds.

“DISSOLVE IMPOSSIBLE STAINS … TAR, WINE, GREASE, EVEN BLOOD!” read the label on a spray bottle of multi-purpose cleanser stashed under the sink.

“I found it!“ shouted Robert walking back into the parlor. Daniel was still standing over the body of Stuart Barclay, his business partner.

“Great! Gimme that, Bobby. I have to get this blood stain out of Marilyn’s antique Persian rug before she gets back from her weekend in Manhattan. This is her favorite rug; it cost a fortune and can’t be replaced!

“Danny, I think you’ve got bigger problems to worry about than your wife’s rug” replied Robert. “Stuart’s dead! You said it was an accident so why not just call the police?”

“I can’t! It’s not that simple, Bobby. Stuart had evidence against me.”

“Meaning what, Danny?”

“He confronted me months ago. He had proof I’d been embezzling and forging legal documents. Stuart was gonna turn me in and I couldn’t let that happen!”

Agitated, Daniel paced the room. He continued: “I found out that Stuart was having an affair with the wife of our wealthiest and most important client. I had him followed. I have photos of them together. I called Stuart and suggested he come over tonight to talk and told him to use the rear entrance just to keep things on the down low. When he got here, I told him I knew about his affair. Things got heated and he came at me. I sidestepped him and Stuart cracked his head against the mantle. Bobby, if any of this gets out, I’ll be ruined. My reputation as an attorney will be trashed. I need your help, brother! We gotta clean this rug and get rid of Stuart’s body!”

“Embezzling? How could you be so stupid, Danny?” exclaimed Robert. “Ok, look. What’s done is done and there’s nothing we can do about it now. You’re right – we gotta take care of this mess. I’ll scrub the rug; you go see if you can find some plastic sheeting or a tarp. I’ve got a plan.”

By the time Daniel returned with a tarp, rope and rubber gloves, the rug looked amazingly clean. “Good as new! That’s one problem solved” Robert declared.

“And no questions from Marilyn“ quipped Daniel. “Now tell me about your plan, Bobby.”

“Ok, Danny, this is what we’re gonna do. We wrap Stuart in the tarp and put him in his car; you drive his car down the back roads to the ditch at Quarry Road. Take it slow and keep the lights off. I’ll drive my car down the main road and we’ll meet up at the ditch. We can’t be too careful so if anyone happens to be watching the house, they’ll see only me leaving, not you. When we get to the ditch, all we have to do is get Stuart’s body out of the tarp, place him in the driver’s seat of his car, put the car in ‘DRIVE’ and give it a push down into the ditch. Then we’ll get in my car and drive back here. It’s perfect, Danny; it’ll look like an accident.”

“Yeah, that just might work, Bobby! It’s got to work!” replied Daniel. “Let’s do it!”

The brothers snapped on their gloves, rolled Stuart onto the tarp and tied it up; the bleeding from the gash in his forehead had finally stopped. They struggled getting Stuart’s body out the back door and into his car; for a skinny little prick, he sure was heavy! Once they had the body secured in the passenger’s seat, Daniel got behind the wheel and drove off, taking the back roads to the ditch.

As planned, Robert and Daniel met up at Quarry Road. Still wearing their rubber gloves, they lifted Stuart out of the passenger seat, removed the tarp, placed him behind the wheel in the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt. Making sure the gear was in ‘DRIVE’, they pushed Stuart’s car down the ditch and watched it crash into the stone wall of the abandoned quarry.

Tossing their gloves onto the tarp, they balled everything up and stuffed it into one of the old metal trash cans near the quarry. Robert threw a lit match into the can and the duo, now co-conspirators, smoked a joint as the tarp and gloves melted away into nothingness. Robert pocketed what was left of the joint, then the brothers showered the contents of the trash can with sand and rocks to smother any remaining embers. Taking a quick look around, they headed back up to Robert’s car.

Everything went off without a hitch and for the first time that night they relaxed. Once back at Daniel’s house, Robert cautioned his brother to speak about this to no one …. not his wife, not his priest, not his mistress.

Three days later the police discovered Stuart’s car in the ditch; there was no apparent sign of foul play. There was also no one in the car nor anyone nearby, dead or alive.

That evening Daniel got a call. “Hey, partner. You’re a bigger loser than I could have imagined! We’ve got some unfinished business to discuss, Danny boy.”

Daniel felt light-headed and slumped against the wall. The caller was Stuart and he sounded very much alive.

This is the American rock group Kansas performing “Point of Know Return”.

It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/

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