Trifecta Writing Challenge: I Hate You Becky Slater

Hell Dear Readers! It’s time for the Trifecta Writing Challenge!  Today’s word is the third definition of pedantic:  unimaginative, pedestrian

I Hate You Becky Slater

Becky Slater threw a high-pitched giggle across the counter at me.  I sighed and kept folding the newly arrived baby tees imprinted with a pacifier and the proclamation “I Suck!” emblazoned across the front.

“Hey girlfriend,” Becky began, “you’re never going to believe what happened last night while I was walking Spunkers! I thought I’d die!”

“If only!” I said under my breath and then checked myself.  Poor Becky couldn’t help who she was or what she was.  I imagined Becky’s mother dropping her on her head while giving her high levels of radiation and simultaneously force feeding her lead.” Yup, that would explain Becky alright.  I lingered on the thought.

“So, anyways, girlfriend, I’m walking Spunkers when this fire-engine guy goes by with his siren on, sees me and honks!  He was hitting on me on the way to a fire!  I was so embarrassed!  It was super pedantic!”

I hate you Becky I wanted to say but instead I said, “Uh . . . I think you might be using the word pedantic wrong, Becky. Pedantic means pedestrian.”

Becky giggled two octaves above middle C.  “Shut the hell up, girlfriend!   Tell me something I don’t know! I was the pedestrian . . . hello?  Anyways, you’re so lucky you’re not hot, girlfriend!”  Becky was refolding the baby tees I just folded so that only “I suck” showed.

“Well maybe he was honking because he was entering an intersection, Becky.”

“Shut the hell up, girlfriend! That fire guy wanted to jump my bones! End of story!”

I was about to tell Becky she was delusional, just as soon as I could think of a small word that meant delusional, when the door jingled open.

A fireman entered and sauntered up to Becky.  “Hi beautiful!  Remember me?  I honked at you yesterday on my way to a fire!”

“Tell me about it, fire guy!”  Becky giggled three octaves above middle C — then turned to me. “Told you so, Girlfriend!”

 

Until next time . . . I love you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trifecta 333-Word Writing Challenge: An Acquired Taste

Hello Dear Readers.  It’s time once again for the Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are asked to write a story between 33 and 333 words.  If you haven’t tried you hand at it, you really should.  It’s a wonderful group of writers who link their stories up twice a week.  It’s a great way to hone your writing skills while having a heck of a lot of fun in the process.

This week’s prompt was the third definition of the word, deliberate:  3: slow, unhurried, and steady as though allowing time for decision on each individual action involved.

An Acquired Taste

Talligas Harrington sauntered into Dan Deeble’s office and sat down in the chair across from his desk.  He tapped out a rhythm on his knees and hummed while he waited for his boss to acknowledge his presence.

Dan Deeble continued straightening stacks of papers in a slow, deliberate manner, took a sip of his bitter-tasting coffee, and cleared his throat to signal that Mr. Talligas Harrington should stop his humming now.

How do you like the coffee? Talligas asked his boss.

“I don’t,” Dan Deeble said flatly, “I don’t like it, and I don’t like you.”

Telligas shrugged.  “I guess I’m an acquired taste — like the coffee.”

You’re cooking the books Telligas, and I–” Dan slapped his hand down on the revenue report that Talligas was sliding over to himself — “and I don’t like your grubby little mitts. If it wasn’t for your mother, Talligas, I’d fire you fast!“

“I’m not surprised you feel that way, Dan, that’s what everybody says who has temporarily occupied that boss’s chair you’re sitting in now.  Emphasis on temporarily, Dan.”  Telligas lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew the smoke in Dan Deeble’s face. “But it won’t last. Mother loves you now, sure.  She made you the boss of my late father’s company.  But have you ever wondered why this place goes through CEO’s so fast? Because Mother likes novelty, Danny Boy!”

Dan jumped up, “That’s enough, you smarmy, ungrateful, son of a—“

“You’re no CEO, Dan, you’re simply the newest sideshow attraction at Harrington Industries.” Telligas crushed his cigarette under his foot and bowed deeply.  “I now bid you farwell, Mr. Deeble. “Enjoy your coffee!”

“What?” Dan looked into his cup, “You put something in my coffee, didn’t you? That’s why it tastes so weird!  You poisoned it!”

“No.” Telligas chuckled. “I didn’t, I swear!”

Dan Deeble sat back relieved.  Telligas hesitated in the doorway.  “But Mother did.”

Telligas Harrington

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta 33-Word Challenge: Little Horribella

Hello Dear Readers.  Today is the Trifecta 33-word challenge.  Today’s challenge is to incorporate  an example of onomatopoeia –words that sound like what they mean –like splash, whoosh, and yadda yadda.

 

Little Horribella 

Little Horribella pulled the string on her talking doll.

“Oink!”

Horribella whacked it and tried again.

“Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling!”

“Oh this stupid doll!” Horribella lit the dynamite.

KERPOW!

“Ah! that’s more like it.” Horribella said.

Little Horribella

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

The Trifecta Writing Challenge: The Pliability of Nigel Cornhusker

Hello Dear Readers! It’s time for the weekly Trifecta Challenge which is to write a story using the third definition of the word:  blood: a : lifeblood; broadly : life; b : human stock or lineage; especially : royal lineage <a prince of the blood>c : relationship by descent from a common ancestor : kinship d : persons related through common descent : kindred e (1) : honorable or high birth or descent (2) : descent from parents of recognized breed or pedigree

The Pliability of Nigel Cornhusker

 The minute Sophia Loren walked through the door of the screwdriver factory and sat down at the conveyor belt on the stool next to Nigel Cornhusker was the day Nigel Cornhusker’s heretofore uneventful life popped a wheelie.

Of course, this Sophia Loren wasn’t any blood relation to the renowned Italian actress, but she had tried out for a part once in a local production of the Merchant of Venice, and she adored spaghetti.  In Nigel’s eyes, that made her every bit as good as the real Sophia Loren.

Nigel thought Sophia was a looker too.  He was smitten with her round, coquettish eyes and the adorable way one of them hovered to the side no matter which way she was looking.  Plus the fact that Sophia’s tight hairnet pushed down her considerable eyebrows to hover, caterpillar-like, just above those round, coquettish eyes of hers — and, well, it drove Nigel Cornhusker nearly wild! But it was Sophia’s sparkling vivaciousness that made Nigel Cornhusker putty in Sophia’s hands.

That’s why it was a crying shame that Sophia was married — and an even bigger crying shame that Sophia wanted Nigel Cornhusker to bump off her husband, Victorio Betropellio Pelliweenio.

Each day, while she and Nigel would sit at the conveyor belt examining yellow screwdriver handles for proper transparency, Sophia would use her sparkling vivaciousness to reel in Nigel’s affections, minute by minute, hour by hour, screwdriver handle by screwdriver handle.

Until finally one day Sophia cooed, “Say, listen, Nigel.  Why don’t you come over for a romantic spaghetti dinner?  It would be just you, me and my husband, Victorio Betropellio Pelliweenio’s dead body — once you kill him, that is.  Oh and do you prefer regular Pepsi or diet?”

* * *

Nigel Cornhusker watched the moon through the tiny window of his prison cell and imagined his beautiful Sophia beneath its milky light. “Sophia my love!” He screamed in anguish.

“Uh, I’m trying to sleep over here, Nigel!” Sophia shouted from the next cell. “Do you mind?”

The View from San Quentin

Until next time . . . I love you

33-Word Trifecta Challenge: That Tragic Extra P

Hello Dear Readers!  It’s time to get out the word shaker and shake out 33 words for this week’s 33-word Trifecta Writing Challenge.  This time we are asked to “write the origin story to the superhero of your choice in exactly 33 words.”

That Tragic Extra P

Gobbling the third meal of the day faster than a speeding bullet by age 2.

More powerful than breakfast and lunch and dinner by 20!

It’s a nerd!

It’s inane!

It’s Supperman!

The Adventures of Supperman!

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

The Trifecta Writing Challenge: Wonderful Horrible Dottie

 Welcome Dear Readers! This weeks Trifecta Challenge is to write from 33 to 333 words using the third definition of the word, DOOR:  3: a means of access or participation : opportunity <opens new doors> <door to success>

Wonderful Horrible Dottie

I arrived at the Brown Derby early.  I didn’t want Dottie to be mad at me again.  She’d been in a foul mood since her husband, Alan Campbell, had died of an overdose — either accidentally or on purpose.  I was going with the latter because I wouldn’t have blamed him.  He probably couldn’t take another day of her viciousness.  Either way, I knew she would be drinking more than usual from that little silver flask of hers.

The head waiter greeted me. “Your table is ready, madam,” he announced, and I followed him.  He led me through the crowded restaurant like he was leading me to the Holy Grail, and in some ways I guess he was –at least when it came to the rich and famous—they punctuated every table like triple exclamation marks in a sea of commas. I tried not to gawk.

“Oh shid!” Dorothy announced when she arrived 40 minutes late as usual.

I noticed she was wearing that same dress again.  It was starting to look a little worse for the wear, but then so was Dorothy Parker.

How are you doing Dottie?” I said, while mentally running a comb through her sticky bangs.

“Are you sure you want to ask me that?” Dorothy said, screwing off the lid of her flask.  “The first thing I do in the morning is brush my teeth and sharpen my tongue.”

I often wondered if my scriptwriting career was worth befriending Dorothy.  I guess I thought she could open a Hollywood door or two, and I guess I thought she’d be fun to hang out with, but so far I’d been hugely disappointed on both counts

“I was so sorry to hear about Alan.” I said.  “Is there anything I can do?

“Yes, you can get me another husband!”

“Surely you don’t mean that, Dottie,” I said.

“Then get me a ham sandwich and hold the mayo.”  Dorothy responded instead — while smiling sweetly of course.

Wonderful Horrible Dorothy Parker
Photo credit: Wide World Photos

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: I’d Rather be Hyphenating

Hello Dear Readers!  It’s time for the Trifecta Writing challenge which is as follows:

This weekend we are bringing you back to class with a little refresher course on compound modifiers.  We are talking about two words that combine together to describe something.  Such as a well-rounded individual or a one-way street or a lightly-oiled pan.  Here’s a fun Trifextra trick: conventionally, if the compound modifier comes BEFORE the word it modifies, it requires a hyphen and counts as one word.  If it comes AFTER the noun, it doesn’t need a hyphen and counts as two. For example:
The well-read woman had an extensive vocabulary. (7 words)
The woman was well read and had an extensive vocabulary. (10 words)

. . . . Because it’s only 33 words, we’ll count using our eyeballs instead of our machines, counting each hyphenated modifier as one word.  We encourage you to do so as well.

I’d Rather Be Hyphenating

Eyeball-counting editors

They certainly excel

At counting words upon the page

And other things as well

A hyphenated modifier

Never counts as two

As long as dashy-little lines

Are stuck between the two.

“Let’s see . . . 27, 28, 29, oh wait . . . that’s not a dash, that’s a coffee stain . . .which would bring it up to 30 . . . .

 Photo Credit:  No one will admit to it.

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Larry Flerd Gets Tested

Hello Dear Readers!  Today it’s time for the Trifecta 333-word writing challenge.  This week’s prompt is the third definition of the word:  ecstasy:  trance; especially : a mystic or prophetic trance

 Larry Flerd Gets Tested

Larry Flerd’s day started out disastrous even for Larry Flerd.

But at least he found his glasses. He located their position in the wee hours of the morning when he crushed them under his left foot on the way to the bathroom to get an aspirin for the headache he had developed from not being able to find his glasses.

Larry reacted by yelping and waking up his wife, Lorna.  She turned on the light and squinted sleepily in Larry’s direction.

“Hey lookee Lorna! I found my glasses!”  Larry smiled sheepishly which was the only way Larry Flerd ever smiled.

Lorna groaned, turned off the light and threw her head on her pillow while Larry stumbled into the bathroom and pawed through medicine bottles.  An avalanche of containers tumbled noisily to the floor.  A large bottle of Pepto Bismal broke and oozed pink syrup.

“Larry!  What are you doing in there?”  Lorna demanded.

“I just found the Pepto Bismal, honey!” Larry answered.

Lorna punched her pillow, then curled it up over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Lorna! I can’t find the aspirin, and I have to take my driver’s test in less than three hours!”

Lorna sighed the sigh of a woman who had been married to Larry Flerd for fourteen years. She threw back the covers and was halfway to the bathroom when Larry shouted, “Never mind, honey, I found it!”

* * *

“Now let me get this straight, Mr. Flerd,” the policeman said.  “You were taking your driver’s test and were instructed to turn right by this gentleman here.  The policeman nodded indicating the DMV driving-test administrator.

“That’s right officer,” Larry said.

“And you’re claiming you didn’t even see the wax museum?”

“Well I have this headache and my glasses got lost and . . .”

“And the Virgin Mother in a state of ecstasy?  That is now attached to the grill of your car?  Is a result thereof?”

“Bingo!” Larry Flerd said, smiling his big sheepish smile.

“Holy Pepto Bismal!”

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta 33-Word Challenge: A Likely Story

Hello Dear Readers!    It’s time for the weekend Trifecta Challenge.  The challenge is to add 33 words to these three words:  charge, century and lost for a total of 36 words. 

A Likely Story

“How’d you buy the Admiral refrigerator, Colonel?”

“Charge card for the Admiral, Admiral Kernal, Sir!”

Where’s my Colonel Sanders Chicken, Colonel?

“Uh . . .”

“This century Colonel!”

“Must’ve lost it in the Admiral, Admiral Kernal”

“Don’t look at me!  I’m not even full, Sir!”

Geiser Frères Colonel Dorel wiki pictures

 

Until next time . . . I love you

The Trifecta Writing Challenge: Sally Milkerson’s Sex Change

Hello Dear Readers!  This week’s Trifecta Challenge is to write between 33 and 333 words using, as a prompt, the third definition of color: 3: complexion tint:  a : the tint characteristic of good health of  b : blush

Sally Milkerson’s Sex Change

Little Sally Milkerson wanted a tattoo

She asked her mother Wanda

If it was something she could do

Wanda would have answered her

But you see she couldn’t hear

What with all the piercings that were pinning shut her ear

 

So Little Sally Milkerson went and got a pencil

To write her mom a note that said

May I please have a stencil? 

Wanda would have answered her

But her eyelids wouldn’t open

Thanks to all her piercings, in the dark she was agropin’

 

Little Sally Milkerson told her mother not to worry

She’d take the task upon herself

And get tattooed in a hurry

She skipped down to the tattoo parlor

A wad of cash in hand

And gave it to the Tattoo-er — behind the counter, Stan

 

 When Little Sally Milkerson came waltzing through the door

Her mother, Wanda’s color drained

She toppled to the floor

A miracle! — It had occurred from somewhere up above her!

For her darling little daughter now

Had Harry Potter on her cover

Sally Milkerson AKA Harry Potter

Until Next time  . . . I love you

Trifecta Challenge: Helen Henderdorkle Reconsiders

Hello Dear Readers!  It’s time for the weekend 33 word Trifecta Writing Challenge.  This week we are challenged to write 33 words inspired by this quote:

It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.  — Paulo Coelho, Alchemist

Helen Henderdorkle Reconsiders

As Helen Henderdorkle went flying through the air, she took time to reconsider.  Perhaps her life-long dream of owning a horse wasn’t all that and a bag of potato chips after all.

Yippie Yi Yo Ki YOWIE!

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta 33-Word Writing Challenge: Waiting to be Happy

The Trifecta Weekend writing challenge is:   We want you to give us thirty-three words of advice.  Your advice can be to anyone or about anything.  We only ask that you make it uniquely yours.

Waiting to be Happy

We are what our imaginations dream ourselves to be. 

The trick is in learning to work the imagination to our advantage.

We might as well be happy while we’re waiting to be happy!

The Happiest Woman in the World

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Miss Penelope’s Distraction

Hello Dear Readers!  It’s time for the weekly Trifecta Writing Challenge.  This week’s word is the third definition of rain: 1) adj. – taking a lot of money in bill form and tossing it up in the air.

Miss Penelope’s Distraction

When Miss Penelope walked into her third-grade class, a hush, like rain, came over her students.  It might have been because Miss Penelope was tall and beautiful with naturally-curly, flaming-red hair.  Or it might have been because Miss Penelope was carrying her teacup poodle, Nippers, in her tea-cup. Then again, it might have been because Miss Penelope had three legs.

Benjamin Bananason’s hand shot up before Miss Penelope was even done writing MISS PENELOPE on the blackboard.

“Yes Benjamin.”  Miss Penelope said.

“Is there going to be homework this year?  What time’s lunch? And may I please use the bathroom?”

Miss Penelope crossed two of her legs and leaned on the other while she answered Benjamin’s last question affirmatively and pondered the other two questions.

While she was thinking, Rebecca Ribeye raised her hand.

“Yes Rebecca?”

“My aunt, Lavern, has naturally-curly, flaming-red hair just like yours, Miss Penelope.  She had to go to prison though.  What’s your doggie’s name?”

“Nippers” Miss Penelope answered, and then raised the tea-cup containing Nippers to her lips as though she would take a sip — but gave Nippers a kiss instead.

The children laughed until it was time for recess.

That’s when Principal Connie Vickers marched in.

“Well?  How did they respond?” Connie Vickers demanded.  “I would imagine the children were not able to talk about anything else all morning but your—“

“My teacup poodle, Nippers?”

“No, not Nippers!  Your . . . your . . . .” Connie squirmed and tried not to look at any of Miss Penelope’s legs.

“Oh you mean my distraction.” Miss Penelope said helpfully.  “My naturally-curly, flaming-red hair. “

“No!  Not that distraction!  I’m talking about your extra leg Miss Penelope.  I’m talking about the fact that you have THREE legs, Miss Penelope!”

In the silence that followed, Principal Connie Vickers reached her finger over to pet Nippers whose razor- sharp, tiny teeth went into the fleshy part of Connie Vickers finger like a knife through warm butter.

Until next time . . . I love you

33-Word Trifecta Challange: Pickles the Snake

Hello Dear Readers!  It’s time for this weekends 33-word Trifecta Writing challenge where challengers were asked to write 33 words containing an IDIOT therein . . .  so naturally I thought immediately of my buddy, Al Gore,  but then I realized I had read the prompt wrong.  Ha ha!! Oops, my bad!!

Therefore, the following 33-word entry has been amended to contain an IDIOM therein:

Pickles the Snake

Pickles the snake was up in arms

Cause she had to work in a walk in

But Pickles the snake had to use her charms

In order to coax her pet croc in!

Until next time . . . I love you

P.S.  This post is dedicated to the real-life Pickles, the pet snake of my Blogging Buddy, Bucky over at behindthemaskofabuse.

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Vera’s Charlie Problem

Hello Dear Readers! It’s time for the Trifecta Writing Challenge.  This weeks prompt is the word:

LUCKY (adjective)

1: having good luck
2: happening by chance : fortuitous
3: producing or resulting in good by chance : favorable

Vera’s Charlie Problem

Vera Hinckle pardoned herself profusely, as she squeezed past knees and purses, finally finding her seat just as the lights were dimming.

Vera was in high spirits.  Tonight’s production was called “The Tree” and it was a murder mystery written by a local, up and coming playwright, and everyone was raving about it.

When the stage lights came on, they revealed a kitchen with pink appliances, just like the ones Vera had in her own kitchen — and a window above the sink that looked out onto a tree, a white birch, just like Vera’s– painted, of course — but how utterly uncanny!

Vera was so astonished, she almost leaned over to the person sitting next to her to remark on it, but something stopped her.  Maybe it was the knot that was beginning to form in her stomach.

A portly man crossed the stage and opened the door of the pink refrigerator. From off stage came a voice that Vera thought sounded remarkably like her own.   A lucky coincidence?

“Benjamin!  Don’t tell me you’re eating again!  They’ll have to bury you in a piano crate! Mark my words!”

Vera’s blood ran cold.  These were the exact words Vera often used to chastise her late husband.  But her husband’s name wasn’t Benjamin.  Vera relaxed a little.  It was Charlie.  But still.

Vera looked around the theater to see if anyone was looking at her.  How could anybody know that about her and Charlie?  It was merely a coincidence, surely, Vera reasoned.

Then a woman entered the stage, and Vera stifled a gasp.  She was small and thin like Vera, and her hair was fixed in Vera’s bird-nest bun!

Vera had to get out!  She stumbled her way to the aisle and hurried out of the theater, nearly breaking into a run.

When Vera got home she ran to the shed and got the ax.  She had to chop down the tree she buried Charlie under — before someone put two and two together.

Until next time . . . I love you