Short Story

Day 10 or It’s A Process

Ten days out from spinal fusion surgery and my lower back still hurts like a bitch on wheels. This is a much more difficult surgery/recovery than I expected; bearing in mind what’s involved …. what has been cut through, ground down, fused together with various types of hardware, and stapled, sutured and bandaged closed …. I should have realized it would not be easy. And my doctor sent me home with Tylenol …. not even extra strength but regular Tylenol. Really?

Getting around the house with a walker, dressing myself and doing basic toilette is not problematic; beyond basic, it’s damn near impossible. What’s not allowed: stomach sleeping, bending or twisting at the waist, lifting anything heavier than 5 pounds. And, apparently, pain medication.

These days, I just about live in my electric recliner, getting up every hour or so to walk around, followed by icing my back. I tried eating my meals in the kitchen with Bill; it’s good to have a change of scenery and some normal time with him. The chairs, however, are not comfortable just yet so we eat together in the living room where there’s an over-large electric recliner with my name on it.

Making myself comfortable in a recliner is easier than in bed but still more difficult than I would have thought; the vertical 6″ incision is centrally located on the small of my back so I’m aware of every movement. There’s always something that hurts, that’s too big or too small, too hard or too soft, flattened out or all scrunched up, or just out of reach. Finding the perfect cushion has been a crusade; thankfully, Bill holds on to everything! Fortunately, once I fall asleep, I’m out for most of the night. Getting out of the recliner in the morning is slow-going as I’m stiffened-up from sleeping all night. It’s a process.

As far as my blogging goes, I’ll write when the mood strikes. I miss you and our camaraderie but my energy and strength are down. It took me two days just to write this! I apologize for not reading or commenting on your posts and I’m sure I’m not going to …. at least not for a while. I’m just not up to it.

Well, that’s the story, kids; taking life one day at a time.

Be good to yourselves. See you on the flip side. 😎

NAR©2024

PS – As much as I’d love to hear from you, please try not to compare your own situation to mine or tell me about your dear Aunt Betty who was never the same after her surgery. I know you mean well but we’re all different and heal differently; downer stories don’t help. It’s human nature but a “get well soon!” would be far better and greatly appreciated. Thanks!

Here’s “It Don’t Come Easy” by Ringo Starr.

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Poem

Here’s To You, Mr. Robinson: A Cinquain

Seagull
Ballsy beach bird
Boss other birds around
Thinks he’s Edward G Robinson
Tough guy

NAR©2024

This is “Mr. Big Stuff” by Jean Knight

*Cinquain is a short, usually unrhymed poem consisting of 22 syllables distributed as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2 in 5 lines. Line 1: Noun; Line 2: Description of opening noun; Line 3: Action; Line 4: Feeling or effect; Line 5: Synonym of the opening noun. The cinquain, also known as a quintain or quintet, is a poem or stanza found in many European languages; the origin of the form dates back to medieval French poetry.

** Edward G. Robinson was an American actor who was popular during Hollywood’s Golden Age and is best remembered for his tough-guy roles as gangsters in such films as Little Caesar and Key Largo.

Edward G Robinson

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Poem

Whole Lotta Shakin’

Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge with the
prompt word ‘bank’ and for Weekend Writing Prompt #377
using the word ‘reverberate’ in exactly 43 words. Here’s my piece.

When my kids played
the whole house would
shake
like an eight point
earthquake
and the coins in their
piggy bank
would
reverberate
as the crystal glasses
in the dining room
breakfront
did the hippy hippy
shake
and I
baked
an
earthquake
cake

NAR©2024
43 Words

You can find the recipe for Earthquake Cake HERE.

This is “The Hippy Hippy Shake” by the Swinging Blue Jeans

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Story

I Gemelli

Gemelli pasta. Gemelli is the Italian word for ‘twins’

Resemblance can be a freaky thing. Supposedly everyone has a doppelgänger; someone out there is a duplicate of you with your mother’s eyes, your father’s nose and that annoying mole you’ve always wanted to have removed. We might even have several pairs of clones walking around, each totally unaware of the other’s existence.

It’s been said the longer people have a pet, the more they begin to resemble that pet. Dogs have been matched by strangers to their owners time and time again. The same is true for people; have you ever seen a long-married couple who now look like a set of bookends?

I have many relatives in Italy and Sicily; my family has always said one particular cousin and I have looked like each other since birth. We were born days apart and are called “I Gemelli” … “The Twins”. The first time my cousin Franco and I met, we just stared at each other in fascination. I think Franco and I do bear a strong resemblance however his eyes are blue while mine are green and he’s got a lot more facial hair than I do! LOL! And we have the same Sicilian nose!

My cousin Franco and me

The other day I wrote about my best friend Debby and how alike we are, not just our personalities but our physical appearance as well. One of my WP friends was quite interested in my story and left several comments and questions. I promised I’d write a little bit more about me and Debby … two unrelated women who could pass for sisters, perhaps twins at times.

I can’t explain how these things happen but events at my son’s wedding a few years ago proved the old saying true: fact is stranger than fiction.

There were a lot people at the wedding … family, friends, coworkers. My sister, Rosemarie, was there as was my friend Debby. The time arrived during the wedding reception for a family photo session. The music was playing, people were dancing and milling about. Janet, the wedding photographer, was scrambling around trying to wrangle immediate family members for photos. Craning her neck for a better look into the crowded room, Janet turned to me in surprise and said, “You’ve been holding out on me!”

I had no idea what Janet was talking about and asked her what she meant. She replied, “I know your husband has a twin brother but I had no idea you have a twin sister!”

This conversation went back and forth for a little while … me trying to convince Janet that I didn’t have a twin sister and Janet insisting I did! Of course, Janet was talking about Debby! I laughed and said to her “I really hate to burst your twin bubble but she’s not my sister; she’s my best friend.” When I spotted Rosemarie on the dance floor, I said to Janet, “See the woman in the cream-colored dress? She’s my sister.” I guess I really couldn’t blame Janet; even my new daughter-in-law’s relatives thought the same thing. To make matters more confusing, Debby and I were wearing the same dress (totally unplanned)! Mine was deep purple while hers was dark blue.

It took a lot of convincing for Janet to finally accept the fact that Debby wasn’t my sister and that Rosemarie was. I guess the idea of two sets of twins in the same room was just too exciting for Janet … a missed photo op! I wonder if the same people who matched the pet owners with their dogs would match me and Debby as sisters?

You be the judge.

Me (L) and Debby on Halloween

At the wedding.

Two brunettes with summer tans.

Twins? Maybe, maybe not, but the resemblance is strong….

My sister Rosemarie and me

….except for my actual sister! Go figure!

NAR©2024

Remember this? Here’s the theme song from The Patty Duke Show called “Identical Cousins”

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Don’t Cry For Me Agrigento

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are asked
to get creative in 100 words or less using the
photo below for inspiration. Here is my story.

Photo © Mr. Binks

It was 1965, a big year – my sister’s graduation, the Beatles concert and our trip to Sicily.

We spent a day at Mom’s cousin Concetta’s farmhouse outside Agrigento. Goats, sheep and a donkey grazed in the field among the olive trees. Chickens scurried around the barnyard like drunken spinning tops. They were extremely entertaining – our favorite.

We hung out with the animals all morning. In the afternoon we drove to Agrigento to explore the shops.

Upon returning to Concetta’s, we sat down for dinner. Pasta to start, of course. When she brought out the roast chickens, we burst into tears.

NAR©2024
100 Words

Here are three ridiculously talented Sicilian guys from Palermo playing a tune called “The Chicken”. They are Matteo Mancuso (guitar), Riccardo Oliva (bass) and Salvatore Lima (drums). Enjoy this one.

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Ovi Poem

I Hated That Job Anyway

Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge 60.
‘Haste’ is our inspiration. Here’s my Ovi
.

Haste makes waste, I’ve heard it said
Why get up? I’ll stay in bed
It’s August! The office is dead
Good day to sleep in

Push the snooze, catch more ZZ’s
How I wish I could make time freeze
Loll around doing as I please
I’m just so very tired

Phone is ringing off the hook
Guess I should go take a look
But instead I throw a book
My boss left a message

You forgot about the meeting
Future customer was seething
It’s too late now, he is leaving
You blew it, pal

Do not bother coming back
Forget your stuff; someone will pack
And one more thing, you’re fired Jack
Think I’ll catch forty winks


NAR©2024



https://ronovanwrites.com/2024/08/07/ovi-poetry-challenge-60-haste-is-your-inspiration/

This is “I’m So Tired” by the Beatles

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Goose It!

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are
asked to get creative in 100 words or less using
the photo below for inspiration. Here’s my story.

© Jennifer Pendergast

Gregory Goose shouted:

“Stop lollygagging, you gang of pencil neck geeks, and get a move on! We don’t have a gazillion hours to waste. A performance awaits us so step lively. And speaking of step, watch yours. There’s goop about.

Greta! Grab hold of those goslings!

George! Stop giving Ginger googly eyes!

Glenda and Gloria! Quit gabbing!

Listen up, guys. Christmas will be here before you know it. If you don’t wanna get cooked, we gotta nail that ‘six geese a-laying’ verse. We need two more geese in our gaggle to make three groups of six.

Ladies, who’s feeling romantic?”

NAR©2024
100 Words

The is “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye

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Flash

Long and Winding Road

So, I was on the road early this morning and there was a good deal of traffic. Fortunately, the long version of “Light My Fire” came on SiriusXM followed by a Rush yawn-athon. I won’t inflict Rush on you but here are the Doors. Knock yourselves out, kids!

NAR©2024

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

Wordle: It’s Too Darn Hot

Written for Di’s MLMM Monday Wordle #383.

weather, heat, energy drained, sleep, cover, dark, light, escape, hide, cool, mix

For the past few nights my sleep hasn’t been good but last night was the worst of all. We had a power failure! This was definitely not cool! No AC and nowhere to go to escape the heat. My apartment was dark and all the lights outside were off so I knew this was a widespread blackout, likely covering miles and involving the entire apartment complex. I aimed a flashlight at the thermometer on my balcony. Big mistake: it read 98º! Somehow knowing the temperature made it worse. And the mix of humidity and heat made everything feel gross. I desperately needed to get some rest. Winding my way into the bedroom, I heard a sound like heavy breathing coming from the bathroom. Sweeping the room with my flashlight, I located the source of the sound and I simply had to laugh; my dog Fred found somewhere to hide away from the heat and was fast asleep on the floor of the marble shower! This oppressive weather had done a number on him, too, poor guy. I was drained of all energy. I grabbed a small battery operated fan from the shelf, set it for high and collapsed onto the bed. I was asleep in seconds.

NAR©2024

This is “It’s Too Darn Hot” by Ella Fitzgerald

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Music Blog

Who The Hell Was Bessie?

Today at Song Lyric Sunday, Jim has asked us to choose
a song that begins with the same letter as our first name.
For me that would be the letter N. Here is my song.

L-R Nancy Sinatra Jr, Frank Sinatra Sr, Nancy Sinatra Sr,
Frank Sinatra Jr; in front Tina Sinatra, 1948

When I say “here is my song”  I really mean MY song. From the time I was a baby and able to understand a few words, this song was special to me. As I got older it became even more special … particularly when my dad would sing it. There are a lot of memories attached to this song; I honestly thought it was written for me and that Frank Sinatra was singing it directly to me. You may recall from another of my posts that my dad hated Sinatra; this may be the only song by Frank that Dad liked. My sister Rosemarie really hated my song because she didn’t like any of HER songs; she’d whine that her songs weren’t as pretty and personal as mine and she’d get annoyed every time it was played. But the thing she hated the most was the line “sorry for you, she has no sister”! I guess I can’t blame her for that!

Have you figured out what my song is? Since it was made popular by Frank Sinatra most people wrongly assumed the song was composed specifically for his daughter. Well, that was a pretty big clue so you must know the answer by now! My song choice for today’s Song Lyric Sunday is “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)”.

The music for the song was composed in 1942 by Jimmy Van Heusen with lyrics written by comedian/lyricist Phil Silvers; it was originally called “Bessie (With the Laughing Face)”. Bessie? Who the hell was Bessie? Well, back in 1942 there was a famous lyricist named Johnny Burke who was married to our mysterious Bessie. Jimmy Van Heusen and Phil Silvers wrote the song for their friend Johnny Burke as a surprise for his wife Bessie’s birthday.

All the women at Bessie Burke’s birthday party loved the song so much, they started requesting that it be sung at their parties as well. Apparently Frank Sinatra wasn’t at any of those parties because when his friends Jimmy Van Heusen and Phil Silvers sang the song as “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)” at little Nancy Sinatra’s birthday party, Frank broke down and cried, thinking it had been written especially for his daughter! Johnny Burke, Jimmy Van Heusen and Phil Silvers wisely didn’t correct him.

In 1944, Frank Sinatra recorded the song as “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)” and it became a fan favorite. When I was born several years later, the song became a favorite in our house as well.

This is “Nancy” by Frank Sinatra

Lyrics

If I don’t see her each day, I miss her
Gee, what a thrill each time I kiss her
Believe me, I’ve got a case
On Nancy with the laughin’ face
She takes the winter and makes it summer
But summer could take some lessons from her
Picture a tomboy in lace
That’s Nancy with the laughin’ face
Did you ever hear mission bells ringin’?
Well, she’ll give you the very same glow
When she speaks you would think it was singin’
Just hear her say hello
I swear to goodness you can’t resist her
Sorry for you, she has no sister
No angel could replace
Nancy with the laughin’ face

Keep Betty Grable, Lamour and Turner
She makes my heart a charcoal burner
It’s heaven when I embrace
My Nancy with the laughin’ face

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Jimmy Van Heusen/Phil Silvers
Nancy lyrics © Barton Music Corporation, Imagem U.S. LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

Big thanks to Jim Adams for hosting another great Song Lyric Sunday this week. Be sure to check out Jim’s site.

Thanks for stopping by. See you on the flip side. 😎

NAR©2024

All text, graphics and videos are 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.

Short Story

No Martinis

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
to get creative in 250 words or less using the
photo prompt as inspiration. This is my story.

© Ayr/Gray

The name’s Hammer …. Jack Hammer.

The life of a special agent is a lonely one. It’s nothing like a James Bond movie or a John le Carré novel.

There were no pens that turned into parachutes. There were no Alfa Romeos, Jaguars or Aston Martins to drive along the Positano coast in a high-speed chase. Not a single suave and dangerous owner of a multi-million dollar casino. Nary a gorgeous, exotic, provocative sex bomb with a highly suggestive name. There were no martinis … neither shaken nor stirred.

In short, there was no excitement, no risk, no action. Not once did I dive behind a sofa while bullets flew across the room. Never did I slide down a roof covered with Mediterranean tiles, land smoothly in my waiting MG and speed away from the bad guys. I have never been shot in the neck with a poison dart. Never was I threatened and tossed out a window by a jealous husband.

That’s the life I was expecting when I was recruited by the Enigma International Elite Investigative Organization .… otherwise known as E.I.E.I.O. My dream profession as a super-secret special agent was nothing but one boring stakeout after another.

Time to report in: “Negative, sir. Nothing going on at the location. Not even the car in the alley has moved.”

“Alley?”

“Yes, sir. On the left.”

“Your target has no alley, Hammer; it’s attached on both sides. You’re watching the wrong house, you idiot! Report to headquarters. Now!”

Shit.

NAR©2024

This is the theme song for the “Pink Panther”, written by Henry Mancini and performed by the WDR Funkhausorchester under the baton of Nic Raine.

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Paying Through The Nose

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are asked
to get creative in 100 words or less using the
photo below for inspiration. Here’s my story
.

Photo Prompt © Roger Bultot

“Did you get it?” Ray asked when the door opened.

“Yeah, but I had to shell out more money for it” grumbled Joe-Bob.

“That rat bastard! Hand it over … and a flashlight.” Ray demanded.

“This is primo, Joe-Bob! Gimme six Ds, will ya?”

Ray inserted the Ds and turned on his newly acquired battery-operated fan.

Listen, Joe-Bob. When Uncle Lester died, he left me a slew of money. I’m gonna buy a state-of-the-art, solar-powered, non-electric RV. I’m stocking up batteries ‘cos when that asshole gets elected, gas and electric prices will be insane. I’m finally gonna beat the man!”

NAR©2024
100 Words

This is “Tax Man” by The Beatles

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Poem

Kathmandu Déjà Vu

The other day I got some news that threw me for a loop;
I felt like a headless chicken running ‘round the chicken coop.

You see, I met this awesome guy who made me lose my mind.
A handsome man so witty and sexy can be awful hard to find.

We both had friends from childhood days who knew us very well.
They figured if we two hooked up we’d get along rather swell.

My friend called me and his called him and we agreed on a date
To meet at Charlie’s Ribs and Ale next Friday night at eight.

Well, I was pretty keen on the idea of meeting someone new;
The last few dates I had were dull as hell and that would never do

See, I’m the kind of girl who likes to go out and have some fun.
An hour or two with some boring dude would have me on the run.

I’m really not high maintenance, I just need some stimulation;
The kind that gets my juices flowing and speeds up my circulation.

I know you know what I’m referring to; I can see it in your eyes.
I want a man who knows what’s what, the hows, the whens and whys.

So, there we were at Charlie’s, just waiting for our dates
When in walked these two cool guys and I could barely wait.

They came straight to our table and I knew right off the bat
This blue-eyed, bearded devil was a curious kind of cat.

He looked at me and I at him and our eyebrows began to rise
When we thought perhaps we knew each other almost all our lives.

We’d no idea that this blind date would not be so blind at all
For although we thought we knew each other we couldn’t quite recall.

In fact, we never took the time to even learn each other’s names.
Our paths crossed countless times before as kids playing kiddie games.

Yes, we were nameless friends in school in days from way back when.
We went to games and dances, seeing each other now and then.

We attended the same schools where we learned a thing or two
But we never said “Hey, what’s your name? I think I may know you!”

Now here we were having fun, hitting it off like two peas in a pod;
But the strange feeling that we knew each other was really very odd. 

The night flew by, we ate and drank; this guy could talk the talk
And deep inside my womanly mind I knew he could walk the walk.

So, I took a wild chance and asked him to come back to my place;
He looked at me, eyes twinkling and a roguish grin upon his face.

We tried to act all nonchalant, no need to rush the night.
He said he was a poet; I said “No kidding? I like to write!”

We sat real close on my old couch and he said “Tell me, what’s your sign?”
I turned to him, said “Pisces” and he said “Yeah? That’s the same as mine!”

He wove his fingers through my hair and slowly pulled back my head.
I opened my mouth and licked my lips saying “Take me to my bed.”

We started slow, real nice and easy, just feeling each other out
But it didn’t take long before both of us were doing the ‘Twist and Shout’.

This went on the whole night long; he was quite the voracious lad.
I was his match and he was mine and none of it was bad.

We spent the next few days together; we got along really great.
He told me his name was Kevin and I told him my name was Kate.

He said he lived in Baltimore now but was born in Kathmandu.
His eyes nearly popped out his head when I said “What!? Me too!”

Things were really getting eerie now; we both knew this was bizarre
Especially when we simultaneously said “On March 10th in Paropakar!”

Now hold on, wait just a damn minute; how could this possibly be?
We were born in the same hospital on the same day in 1993!

Our piercing eyes stared at each other as we silently sipped our tea.
Who was going to ask the next question? Was it me or possibly he?

I grabbed the bull by the horns and asked him “What’s your mom’s name?”
He lowered his cup rather slowly and replied “Why, it’s Germaine.”

I heaved an enormous sigh of relief which proved to be premature
Cos he was adopted, his birth mom was Faye, of that he was quite sure.

I bolted straight upright and nearly fainted as I screamed “No way!
For you see, I was adopted, too, and my birth mom’s name was Faye!

Now this is no laughing matter, for I’d just had me a night like no other
With a guy who was to my dismay my long-lost fraternal twin brother!

NAR © 2024
Orig. written 2021

This is “Ain’t That A Kick In The Head” by Dean Martin

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

What Would Dylan Do?

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are asked
to be creative with 100 words or less using the
photo below for inspiration. Here is my story.

© Lisa Fox

“Lieutenant! We’re getting a reading from the drone!”

“Gimme that, Krebbs! It shows beyond these woods is a clearing with what appears to be life forms. Round up the team; let’s check this out.”

Guns drawn, the squad stealthily worked its way to the clearing. Slowly they emerged; the lieutenant pushed back his fedora and whistled through his teeth.

“Well, lookie here! It’s the MIA grunge band, Rockit Gibraltar!”

“Are they dead, Lieutenant?”

“Nah! They’re stoned. Must be that ramped-up drug …. Double Rubble. Call for a chopper, one equipped with a boulder holder. This ain’t no soft rock band!

NAR©2024
100 Words

This is “Like A Rolling Stone” by Bob Dylan

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Poem, Quadrille

Eat Me!

Written for dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille #203
‘feeling crabby’, where we are to include some
form of the word ‘crab’. Here is my Quadrille.

Time after time
I have tried to
eat
a soft
shell
crab
sandwich.

It sounds so
appealing
but
tastes like
the chef
forgot
about
pealing

it.

Crunchy!
Crinky!
Croaky!
Cracky!

My crab
is crappy!

It’s like
listening
to
a CD
without
removing
the
shrink-wrap!

NAR©2024
44 Words

This is “Rock Lobster” by the B-52’s

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

Read All About It

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday where
the prompt word is ‘paper’, which can be used as a
noun, verb or adjective … or all three which will
qualify for bonus points. Here is my 3-way stream.

On my nightstand I like to keep a pen and pad of paper where I can jot down ideas for stories, things I have to get done around the house, items I need from the store, etc.

During a recent trip to the grocery store I noticed that it’s impossible to find milk in glass bottles. There’s every type of juice or flavored iced coffee available in bottles but milk only comes in those waxy papered cardboard-like containers or plastic jugs. We’re serious about producing less garbage and using less plastic products so I decided to start getting our milk home delivered. Remember that service? Well, it’s back! All I had to do was place an order for delivery with one of the participating companies; my order was delivered in a metal milk box that is mine to keep for as long as I use the service. When it’s time to schedule my next order, all I have to do is place the empty bottles in the milk box and they’ll be replaced by full bottles of cold, fresh milk!

My husband likes to read the daily newspaper, even though he’s really only interested in the sports pages and the crossword puzzle. The headlines give him agita. That works out well because he uses the remaining sections to paper the floor under and around the cat’s litter box to catch any ‘spillage’ or litter that gets kicked out. Now that’s a proper use for the newspaper, especially the front page that’s always plastered with the arrogant face of one lying politician or another! A very fitting use indeed.

NAR©2024

This is “Sunday Times” by Loudon Wainwright III

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.



Flash

Hippocrisy

Written for Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle
encourages us to write creatively in 100 words or less
using the photo below for inspiration. And would you look
at that! Today’s photo is one of mine! Woot woot!! Here’s my story.

© Nancy Richy

“OMG, Vern! People are starting to arrive. This is the most thrilling day of my life! Imagine me …. Hazel Heftybottoms …. a published author! I wonder how many of my friends will be here.

Oh no! Look who’s prancing down the street like a prima donna. It’s that cow Eloise and she’s wearing the same outfit as me! That pachyderm has really packed on the pounds! And provocative pink lipstick on her proboscis? What a slut!

I can’t believe she actually published her poetry book. What a pile of poppycock!

Yoo-hoo! Eloise D-A-R-L-I-N-G!! You look absolutely M-A-R-V-E-L-O-U-S!!

Mwah! Kissy, kissy!”

NAR©2024
100 Words

This is “One Hippopotami” by Allan Sherman

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

Bang A Gong

Written for Linda’s Stream Of Consciousness Saturday
where the theme is “chicken or egg”. Here’s my stream.

The closest living relative to T Rex is … you guessed it … the chicken! So what does that tell us? Well, it’s obvious that neither the chicken nor the egg came first. The dinosaur came first!

Allow me to play devil’s advocate for a minute. Let’s say everything we read in the Bible is true, that God created all the animals in the sky, the sea and on the land. Since this all happened eons ago, we would then have to agree that God created the dinosaurs. The Book of Genesis doesn’t say anything about creating eggs but it certainly talks about the “beasts of the land”.

T Rex and friends stomped the earth, laying their eggs for however long they were here before an asteroid hit them. One theory is that some of those eggs survived and produced what has now evolved into the mighty chicken.

So there you have it, kids. No need to Google or go to the library or petition the Pope for his ex-cathedra decree. Thump on, you proud Bible-thumping, Chick-fil-A-eating, religious zealots. I do believe we have a winner. One might even say “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!”

Coming up next week: Why did the chicken cross the road?

NAR©2024

This is “Bang A Gong (Get It On)” by T. Rex

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Uncategorized

Just A Spoonful

Written for Glyn’s Mixed Music Bag week #26
where we are asked to write about a song by a group
or solo singer beginning with the letter K or L.

The Lovin’ Spoonful was an American band formed in 1964 by singer John Sebastian with guitarist Zal Yanovsky, drummer Joe Butler and bassist Steve Boone, cementing the quartet’s official lineup.

While they were a band that blossomed from the Greenwich Village folk scene in the 1960s, the group’s name was inspired by the blues song, “Coffee Blues” …. the classic song by Mississippi John Hurt. The song supposedly has a deeper, more suggestive meaning if listened to closely enough.

“Coffee Blues” was always a big crowd pleaser because of Mississippi John Hurt’s particularly innocent delivery and his guileless way of presenting it. His audience was frequently filled with beautiful college women …. a group for which he always had appeal.

By 1969, after only five short years together, The Lovin’ Spoonful called it quits. In those few years as a group, the band had amassed a number of hits, including “Summer in the City”, “Do You Believe In Magic?” “Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?” and “Daydream”.

My first featured song today and favorite Lovin’ Spoonful song is “Summer in the City”, a classic rock number that captures the excitement, energy, and heat of a bustling urban summer. The song opens with a distinctive drumbeat that immediately sets the tone for the fast-paced tempo and catchy melody. John Sebastian’s smooth, soulful voice sings about the hustle and bustle of the city streets, with the sound of car horns and sirens in the background adding to the urban ambiance. As the song progresses, Sebastian describes the heat and humidity of the city, urging listeners to “stay cool” amidst the oppressive weather. The chorus features a memorable hook that perfectly captures the vibe of a city summer: “Hot town, summer in the city/Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty.”

Overall, “Summer in the City” is a quintessential summer anthem that has stood the test of time, evoking the excitement and chaos of city life during the hottest months of the year.

This is “Summer In The City” by the Lovin’ Spoonful

My second-favorite song by the Lovin’ Spoonful is “Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?”, a catchy and lighthearted pop song that explores the dilemma of choosing between two potential love interests. The song opens with a bouncy guitar riff and John Sebastian’s playful singing, setting the tone for a fun and flirtatious track.

The lyrics describe the difficulty of making a choice between two people, with Sebastian asking: “Did you ever have to make up your mind?/Pick up on one and leave the other behind?” The song captures the excitement and confusion of young love, while offering advice on how to navigate this tricky situation: “One of these days you know you gotta make up your mind/But you better decide before you run out of time.”

Overall, “Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?” is a fun and upbeat song that captures the excitement and confusion of young love. It’s a timeless classic that continues to resonate with listeners of all ages, offering a lighthearted perspective on the challenges of navigating the complexities of romance.

This is “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?” by the Lovin’ Spoonful.

Before ending I thought it might be fun to feature “Coffee Blues”, the song from which the Lovin’ Spoonful got their name. That’s all I’m going to say about the song; let’s see if you can figure out what makes it so suggestive a song.

This is “Coffee Blues” by Mississippi John Hurt

Big thanks to Glyn for hosting Mixed Music Bag every week.

Thanks for joining me today and spinning some tunes.

See you on the flip side. 😎

NAR©2024

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

Eulogy

Written for Fandango’s Story Starter #154

“’It wasn’t that long ago when Ethan was rarely bothered by mosquitos, but this year he’s being eaten alive by them’.”  

I wrote that in my diary just a few weeks ago.

Thank you all for joining us today as we say ‘farewell’ to my beloved husband, Ethan …. another innocent victim struck down in the prime of life by the dastardly mosquito. Ethan was attacked last week while bringing out the trash for pick-up in the morning; it was just a quick run to the curb but he didn’t have his EpiPen on him. Who knew just a few moments later he’d be in cardiac arrest from anaphylactic shock?

Ethan was never bothered by mosquitos before and at first it was just an annoying surprise when he started developing a reaction a few months ago. The change in him was sudden and drastic and, as much as I will miss him, I’m so thankful his time of suffering was short.

Doctors can’t say whether this is a genetic trait, if our children Evan, Ella and Emily will develop this horrible allergy. To help our children realize the seriousness of this situation and to protect them, Ethan has left them his award-winning collection of swatters, his supply of EpiPens, his boxes of citronella candles, his stash of DEET and, of course, his journal.

When the allergic reactions started, Ethan began writing down his thoughts; as a poet, he wrote some of his best work over the recent months. He was most evocative in his agony.

In closing I would like to read one of his most poignant poems. It’s called ‘Ode To The Mosquito’. And please .… next time you see a mosquito, ask yourselves ‘What would Ethan do?’

Ode To The Mosquito

How can such a little thing
Be so damn annoying?
Flying round my arms and legs
It’s bothersome and cloying.

Go away, you vile thing
I’ll swat you with a stick.
You’re not welcome in my home
You nasty little prick!

Who would think that tiny guy
Could be such a bloody sucker?
When he sticks his fangs in me
I scream “You Motherf*#+er!”

You get me every time I’m out;
My blood is extra sweet.
Come and get me, little twit!
Tonight I’m packing DEET!

The end. 🦟

NAR©2024
Poem originally posted 2022

This is “The Mosquito” by The Doors

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Inquiring Minds

Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
and Weekend Writing Prompt #368 where we are
asked to be creative in exactly 100 words incorporating
the prompt words “sleep” and “quaint”. This is my story.

Poe Cottage Photo @ Pinterest

We visited the Poe Cottage this week, former home of the poet Edgar Allan Poe. It’s about a 30 minute drive from my house and I thought my two teenage grandchildren would enjoy the walk-around since they’re both reading the works of Poe in school.

It’s a quaint old place with small bedrooms, a common kitchen-parlor-dining room downstairs and an upstairs loft. My 6’ tall grandson questioned how a grown man could sleep in the tiny bed.

At one point I realized my grandson had gone missing. Imagine my embarrassment when he was found napping in Poe’s bed!

Inquiring minds.

Poe Cottage Bedroom Photo @ Pinterest

NAR©2024
100 Words

This is “I’m So Tired” by the Beatles

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

A Daughter’s Memory

My Dad, Vito Schembre, circa 1940 © NAR

The idea of Father’s Day was first conceived by Sonora Smart Dodd, a loving daughter from Spokane, Washington. It was also inspired by Mother’s Day as Dodd wanted a day to honor her father as well.  William Jackson Smart was a Civil War veteran and single-handedly raised Sonora and her siblings after the death of their mother. 

My dad was a Sicilian immigrant who came to the US by boat in 1930 at the age of 15. He arrived with his father and two brothers … one older and the other younger. His mother and sister remained in Sicily for another few years; according to my grandfather, “America is no place for a woman”.

None of them spoke a word of English.

My father was an apprentice shoemaker in Sicily who took up barbering after getting settled in Brooklyn, NY. His good looks and charm endeared him to many people and he was liked by everyone.

It was my dad’s boss at the barbershop who gave him a brilliant piece of advice. As was his habit, my father bought the Italian newspaper every day to read during his down time at work. One day the boss said to him in Italian “Hey, Vito! If you ever hope to speak English, do yourself a favor and start buying the New York Times every day and read it from front to back.” My father realized the importance of that advice and started buying the NY Times the very next day. With the added help of his English-speaking customers, he became fluent in English and lost his accent with no formal schooling. One of the proudest moments in his life was completing the NY Times crossword puzzle … in ink!

Dad became a US citizen and eventually landed a job with the post office. He was a US Army veteran who drove a jeep throughout Europe during WWII without ever having earned a driver’s license. He never did get his license and never drove again after his stint in the army.

My father loved music, especially opera, and I was exposed to classical music and opera at a very early age. The basics in life were Dad’s tenets … family, God, country, his job, providing a roof over our heads, food on the table and a good education. He was also the fun-loving one, with Mom always busy “cleaning up his messes”.

Dad loved people and entertaining in our home. He would often invite people for dinner without clearing it with Mom first. No wonder she was always pissed off! Dad was often in trouble for that and I found that devilish quality one of his most endearing traits. He truly meant no harm. He was a good and decent man who loved and was loved in return. And in the end can any of us want more than that?

Happy Father’s Day to all my guys on WordPress. I hope your day is as special as you are.

NAR©2024

This is “O mio babbino caro” (“Oh my dear daddy”) performed by Renée Fleming

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Uncategorized

On The Rocks – Part 3: In The Beginning

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to write a story in 250 words or less
using this photo as our inspiration. Here is my story.

© Ayr/Gray

Handsome Nigel Forsythe taught history at the university where Camilla Saunders was the librarian. His penchant for crime novels brought him to Camilla’s desk every week. She was a mousy thing with dull hair and thin lips but splendid breasts for which Nigel had a hankering.

When he asked her out for coffee, she accepted. Getting to know one another was excruciating but Nigel persevered, no doubt spurred on by the thought of getting into Camilla’s blouse.

On their fourth coffee date, Nigel suggested they do “something different”; Camilla was apprehensive but went along. They drove to a secluded park with meandering pathways and steps that seemingly led to nowhere.

“Aren’t the flowers lovely, Camilla?” Nigel asked and was rewarded with a thunderous sneeze.

“Allergies” Camilla complained.

“Watch the ivy, Camilla. We wouldn’t want you getting your heels caught up in it.”

“Nigel, this looks like poison ivy. I’m allergic and don’t have my EpiPen! Why did you insist on bringing me to this horrible jungle?”

It’s hardly a jungle, Camilla, and the view from the top is to die for.”

With each step Camilla’s breathing became more labored until she was near collapse.

Camilla turned. Nigel was stunned to see her blouse soaked with sweat and clinging to her heaving breasts. He grabbed her shoulders, planting a hungry kiss on her cadaverous lips.

Camilla broke away, slapped Nigel and ran down the steps to the car. They drove back to the university in stony silence.

Nigel was not deterred.

Here is Part 1 & Part 2

NAR©2024
250 Words

This is “Love Bites” by Def Leppard with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Warts and All

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are
encouraged to write a story in 100 words or less
using this photo for inspiration. Here is my story.

Photo Prompt © Lisa Fox

There was a boy named Danny who sat directly in front of me in 5th grade. He had a perpetual case of ringworm which fascinated and repulsed me at the same time.

His beautiful black hair had been shaved to expose the circular rash on the back of his head. I imagined microscopic critters chasing each other around that stubbly maze.

The theory was that Danny caught the fungus while hunting frogs in the boggy bullrushes; somehow that didn’t make it any less gross.

I never could understand boys and their frog fetishes. Everyone knows that’s where warts come from!

NAR©2024
100 Words

This is “Hop Frog” by Lou Reed featuring David Bowie

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

The Root Of The Problem

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday where we are asked
to start our piece with a question. Bonus points have been hinted at

if we also end our piece with a question. Here is my questionable
stream based on a conversation I had with my husband.

“What would you say if I decided to let my hair go natural? You know, go grey?”

“I’d have to ask why you would want to do that. You always take great pride in looking younger than you are. Wouldn’t grey hair make you look older?”

“Well, I’m not sure we can toss a blanket over all women with grey hair and say they look older. There are other factors that come into play. I’ve always had great skin. Won’t I still have great skin if I go grey? How can I just arbitrarily assume I will look older?”

“Ok, I’ll give you that much. You can’t assume you will definitely look older. You’ve told me how much you like the color of your hair. I’m surprised you’re suddenly considering changing it. Where is this coming from?”

Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It would be so much easier not having to color my hair and get highlights every couple of months. Besides, when we were at your sister’s house the other day, I was the only woman who still colors her hair.”

“And you were the best looking one at the table!”

“You have to say that; I’m your wife! Your sister’s grey hair looks gorgeous. I know women who’d kill to have her color.”

“But there’s no guarantee you’ll end up with the same color, is there?”

“Well, no …. I suppose not. But my colorist is so talented, I just know she’d do a great job transitioning my hair.”

“Now I’m confused. If you want to stop coloring your hair, what does your colorist have to do with any of this?”

My colorist will add some grey to my hair …. like getting highlights only they’d be grey instead of blonde. She’d gradually add more until my hair is completely grey, then I can naturally let my grey roots grow out.”

Seem’s like an awful lot of work to me. Why not just stop coloring your hair and let nature take it’s course?”

“That’s a terrible idea! It’ll take forever and look awful growing out!”

“Well, if you’re convinced this is what you want, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I’m not at all convinced this is what I want; that’s why I asked you in the first place.”

“Ok, then my answer to your question is ‘Don’t go gray. I love your hair color the way it is.”

“Well, I’ll have to give that more thought. What do you think about me cutting my hair?”

“Seriously?”

NAR©2024
#SoCS

This is “The Girl I Love She Got Long Black Wavy Hair” by Led Zeppelin

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Check List

Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #366
where we are to get creative using the word ‘Monday’
in exactly 25 words. Here are my 25 words.

Garbage out? ✓
Clean sheets? ✓
Toilets swished? ✓
Kitchen mopped? ✓
Pain Management appointment? ✓

Trigger point injections and back massage? ✓

Lather, rinse, repeat next week! ✓

Routine Monday maintenance. ✓

NAR©2024
25 Words

This is “Yakety Yak” by the Coasters

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use without permission which I usually give when asked. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

Mom’s Sunday Pasta

Written for Stream Of Consciousness Saturday
where the prompt is ‘recipe’. Here’s my stream.

My husband is as easy going as can be, so when he makes a request, I try my best to oblige. Last night he asked for Sunday pasta with meatballs. How could I refuse?

Homemade pasta with all the trimmings is something I can do with my eyes closed but when I first started out in the kitchen as a new bride, I had no idea what I was doing. Sure, I had watched my mother cook for years but it’s a whole different ballgame when you’re on your own.

I’ll never forget the first time I tried to make Sunday pasta. Reading my mother’s recipe was no help. This is exactly what she wrote:

For your pasta dough mix flour and eggs, water when you need, pinch salt, oil maybe.

That’s it. No measurements, no amounts, nothing definitive. Her meatball recipe was no better:

Chopped meat, eggs, some salt & pepper, handful parmigiano, another handful breadcrumbs, dice onion, parsley, oregano, glass of water.

A GLASS OF WATER! Which glass? What size? At this point my eyes were frantically scanning the kitchen for a glass! I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. I’m sure my mother never referred to a recipe in her life so she had no idea how to write one!

Just then it hit me and I had a vision of my mother in her kitchen. She always used a Flintstone’s Jelly Jar as her water glass when cooking; she said it was the perfect size. All I had to do was find an equivalent measure and I’d be good.

I eventually mastered the art of Sunday pasta with meatballs but I sure do wish I had my mom’s jelly jar .… for old times’ sake, you know?


NAR©2024
#SoCS

This is “Che La Luna” by my Sicilian paisano, Louis Prima

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

The Escort

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less, using the
photo prompt as inspiration. This is my 250-word story.

© Ayr/Gray

Fiona was late for Mass. Seeing an unfamiliar man leaning against the wall outside Sully’s Bar, she quickened her pace. As she passed she heard him chuckle and say “What’s yer hurry, Irish?” She walked even faster, opening the side door to St. Brigid’s.

An hour later Fiona exited the church and noticed the same man from the bar standing at the corner. Had he been waiting for her all this time? Wary, she stepped backwards, teetering on the curb and losing her shoe in the process.

Suddenly the man was by her side. She was taken aback as he reached around her waist and stopped her fall.

Name’s Harvey Rubin and yer one fine lookin’ dish. Ya need somebody like me to drive ya home, Irish. It can be dangerous for a good Catholic girl like yerself walkin’ alone in this neck o’ the woods.”

Keep your thoughts …. and hands …. to yourself, buster!” Fiona snapped. “Besides, how do you know I’m a good Catholic girl?”

Well, I ain’t no Albert Einstein but I seen ya practically racin’ to St. Brigid’like yer panties was on fire and I’m guessin‘ ya ain’t no altar boy – not with them gorgeous gams.” Harvey replied in an unhurried way.

Glancing down, he smiled at her missing shoe; his tough “Bogie” persona became surprisingly charming. Fiona found it difficult to resist this rough-hewn stranger and she shocked herself by allowing him to escort her home.

She knew her parents would be livid.

NAR©2024
250 Words

This is “Bogie & Bacall: Key Largo” by Bertie Higgins

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Uncle Bobby And The Spiders From Mars

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are
encouraged to write something creative in
100 words or less using the photo below as
inspiration. This is my 100-word story.

Photo © Mr. Binks

Uncle Bobby had this irrational fear of spiders. Well, it was irrational to his family; for him it was very real.

So when the new amusement park ride Spiders From Mars opened, Uncle Bobby wouldn’t go near it.

Everyone tried convincing him the ride wasn’t jinxed or dangerous but he wasn’t buying it. All their urging and encouragement fell on deaf ears. Uncle Bobby watched from the shadows as his nieces and nephews went for a spin.

That night the ride malfunctioned; several family members were killed, unceremoniously hurled out of the park.

Guess Uncle Bobby’s fear wasn’t so irrational. 🕷️

NAR©2024
100 Words

This is “Ziggy Stardust” by David Bowie

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Short Story

The Proofreader

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to get creative in 250 words or less
using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story

Dear God in heaven! How the hell I’m supposed to get through this book is beyond me!

I’ve been at it now for hours and I’m bored stiff. I don’t know who this guy thinks he is but I’ll tell you what he’s not …. a good writer! I’ve read menus more interesting than this rot!

Jeez Louise! I’ve come across some real clunkers in my day but this one is totally b-o-r-i-n-g. Haul out the woodchipper!

The owner of the small publishing business behind me, Miss Willow Everwood, is my boss; I work there as a proofreader and I really like my job but reading this book is torture. Miss Everwood spotted me dozing off on the chair and demanded I sit on the hard pavement to keep from getting too comfortable and falling asleep. She even said she didn’t want me rooting around inside until I was done with my job.

Well, now my limbs are as stiff as an old hickory stick, my noggin feels like it’s full of sawdust and my butt’s as hard as a slab of redwood. I swear if I have to keep reading this, I’m going to nod off right here in the middle of the sidewalk and start sawing wood.

If I had a rope I’d hang myself from the nearest tree! But I’m not about to get all sappy.

Well, good luck to this Tolkien guy if he thinks he’s going to make it with these creepy Ent people!

NAR©2024
250 Words

This is Rob Inglis with “Ents and Entwives”

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.