Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge Try 2: Herbert Huv Gets the Heave Ho!

This weekend’s Trifecta challenge is to write a story between 33 and 333 words using the picture for a prompt. 

 

Herbert Huv Gets the Heave Ho!

Herbert Huv’s wife, Hev, was about ready to give Herbert Huv the heave ho.  Hev Huv had had it with Herbert Huv’s hoarding.   Oh how Hev had hounded Herbert – yet Herbert was still hellbent on hoarding.

One day however Herbert Huv said he would hoard no more.  Hev Huv was so happy she hugged her husband Herbert Huv hard!  “How Heoric!” Hev Huv homaged.

It wasn’t until he added that he was also a hermaphrodite hooked on heroin that he got the heave ho.

Weekend Trifecta Writing Challenge: Forgetting L.

This weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to write a story between 33 and 333 words using the picture as a prompt.

Forgetting L.

The man put the child’s car seat down for a minute and checked his flask.  Two swigs left.  Only two.  He reached into his other pocket and carefully unwrapped the new gleaming iPhone Jimmy had given him.  He pressed a button and rejoiced at the colorful icons, now they would be the most beautiful things in his world.

Jimmy had entered two numbers into the phone, one for himself and one for L.  “If it ever becomes too much for you,” Jimmy said, “call me and I’ll come no matter where I am and help you no matter what kind of trouble you’re in.”

The man stared at the number for L. Then carefully folded the cloth around the phone again and stuck it back in his pocket.

It was dusk before the man sold the car seat.  He sold it to a guy who said he was a new father or maybe he said he was going to be.  Anyway, the flask was full now.  This moment was his only happiness — the moment before the first swig of a full flask.

Maybe he could put off taking that first swig.  Maybe he could get himself to the train station and sneak aboard.  Like he did when he went to Jimmy’s.

He still had his priorities.  The flask couldn’t take those away.  No matter how low he got, no matter how he hid in the secret places of the Metropolis where only men who crawled on their bellies went, he still had his priorities. He would go to the train station.

He could feel the strength of the engines as they pulled to the platform.  They gave him courage.  He pulled out his phone, hesitated, and then pushed the number for L.

Someone answered. “Lois?”  He said.  Silence. Call ended.

He held up his flask nodding at the locomotive.  “I used to be as powerful as you,” he said aloud, then tipped his head and let the green liquid Kryptonite slide  down his throat.

Friday Rerun: A Day at the Thrift Store

It’s Friday Dear Readers!  Which means we made it through another week.  Of course it was touch and go there for a while! (Not really, I just like that expression.)   Anyway, Friday means it’s time to fish out an old post from the archives, so without further introductory verbiage here’s:

A Day at the Thrift Store

I finally got around to cleaning out my clutter and dropping it off at the thrift store yesterday. Of course, I just had to go inside and have a quick look around, Thrift Store Junky that I am.

This was an especially bountiful day at the store. Forsaken falderal was piled high and wide, and the atmosphere exuded quiet concentration which could only mean one thing – The Hard Core Collectors were here.

I snapped to attention and quickly grabbed a shopping cart.  Even though I needed nothing, wanted nothing and had absolutely no idea what I was looking for, that didn’t mean I was going to let somebody else get their hands on it before I did!

Guiding my cart on pure instinct, I tarried not at the book shelves, by-passed the knick knacks and hardly acknowledged the exercise equipment.  I was making a beeline for the shelves marked “collectibles,” when I suddenly ran head on into another cart operated by a woman who could best be described as a human Fruit Loop.

She wore bright blue sweats, tangerine lipstick, and her ruby-red hair was tucked behind ears that resembled dried apricots.

Fruit Loop Lady and Her Ilk

We momentarily locked carts. I quickly perused her cart, and she quickly perused mine.

Atop her mountain of frippery sat a pink, Beanie Baby Flamingo that had a price tag that said $1.50.  Dang! I may not be a sophisticated collector, but I was pretty sure it must have been worth more than that!

I inquired sweetly where she had found the Beanie Baby.  I kept my voice calm and tried to affect a tone that conveyed the sentiment that it was not for me but for my adorable little granddaughter who would dearly love it for her collection and who, by the way, might even happen to be blind or something.

Ok, Ok, I don’t actually have any granddaughters, but she  didn’t know that.  For all she knew I might have had ten granddaughters, each and every one of them blind as a bat.

The Fruit Loop Lady  simply glared at me, shoved her Beanie Baby farther down into her cart and marched off.   Well! Apparently that dried apricot thing she had going on extended all the way down to her heart.

Internal organs of “you know who”

It wasn’t long before I had wormed my way to the collectibles and spied a set of dishes that were clearly from the 1950’s atomic era.

They were calling to me in a voice I recognized as Dwight D. Eisenhower’s.

“Buy those dishes, I implore you!”

The pattern featured boomerangs intermixed with A-bomb mushroom clouds interspersed with random dots of nuclear waste.

I simply had to have them!

When the clerk told me she would  let me have the entire set of dishes for $15, I nearly fell over backwards onto– guess what? — A huge pile of Beanie Babies!

Needless to say, I acquired the dishes, along with a few other thrift shop must- haves and as I drove away I was filled with an unparalleled sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.

After all, there’s really nothing that can compare with finally getting rid of one’s old, worn-out, useless clutter unless, of course, it’s replacing it with NEW worn-out, useless clutter.

Until next time . . . I love you

The Archaeology Gazette – Breaking News About What Happened A Long Time Ago!

Today’s Top Stories in Archaeology:

15,000-Year-Old Fishing Village Discovered

On the count of three, a team of French Archaeologists unearthed a 15,000-year-old fishing village off the coast of Nip, Antarctica, suggesting that early Neolithic fishermen fishing off the coast of Nip were just as cold then as they are now.

The discovery was made by Jacques Pierre Jacques, a leading French Archaeologist who has been carefully sifting through snow looking for telltale signs of a 15,000-year-old fishing village for the last 27 years. 

Last week, his dedication was rewarded when he came across several 15,000-year-old snowballs, and what appeared to be several fishing poles crudely fashioned out of 15,000-year-old snow. 

Further excavation revealed an entire village of snow huts containing snow furniture, snow utensils and even primitive, beaded jewelry made entirely of snow.

Pictured: a 15,000-year-old fishing pole and primitive necklace made entirely of snow

The team of highly-paid, French Archaeologists will be returning to Yoplait, France with their findings where they will be performing further tests on the 15,000-year-old, snow artifacts using the latest in Magnetic Resonance Imaging.  The entire team is working together to keep their fingers crossed to ensure the snow does not melt.

Was the Ice Man Coming or Going?

I think he was on his way home . . .

A Team of French Archeologists have begun a 42-year study of Otzi, the ice man who was discovered under an extremely large pile of snow in the Alps in 1991, and who, prior to that, had been missing for approximately 6,000 years.  

Experts believe that Otzi was from a nearby Neolithic farming village where a rock was recently discovered with 6,000-year-old carvings scrawled onto it.

A team of highly-paid, French Neolithic Scrawl Experts were called  to the scene and after 17 years of research – they were finally able to translate the scrawls as:  a quart of ibex milk, a pound of yak butter and a dozen eggs from any animal that happens to be laying them. 

Using the latest in Magnetic Resonance Imaging, the team of highly-paid, French Archaeologists are hoping that it will take 42 years to determine whether the 6,000 year old ice man was just leaving for the store or was just coming home from the store.

No wait a minute . . . maybe he was just leaving . . .

 

Tooth Marks Thought to Be Those of Leonardo Di Vinci

A Team of French Archaeologists have been debating whether the tooth marks embedded in a 500-year-old chocolate chip cookie found underneath a cushion of an authentic Louis the XIV sofa  (currently belonging to  Jacques Pierre Jacques) are indeed those of Leonardo Di Vinci or those of Jacques Pierre Jacques’s brother-in-law, Pierre Jacques Pierre,  who was visiting last week and complained of hunger pangs.

“Well they could be Leonardo’s teeth marks because Leonardo didn’t like nuts and there are no nuts visible . . .

Using the very latest in Magnetic Resonance Imaging the team of highly-paid, French Archaeologists are hoping to have the answer before the end of the  next century. 

Until next time  . . . I love you

Trifecta Weekly Writing Challenge: The Day Scrubby Whodiddle Got What She Deserved!

This week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to write a story between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of the word trouble:  3 : an instance of trouble <used to disguise her frustrations and despair by making light of her troubles

The Day Scrubby Whodiddle Got What She Deserved!

Farmonica Hull walked trouble, jumped trouble and sometimes, when she sprained her ankle, limped trouble. Every breath she took had some kind of trouble in it. Trouble followed Farmonica Hull around like Wrigley Field followed around Yogi Berra if he had ever played there and if stadiums could follow people around and if that person happened to be Yogi Berra.

For you see, trouble was double parked in Farmonica’s DNA — ensuring that no matter how many things went wrong, there was always another kind of trouble waiting in the wings.

Take this morning for instance. Farmonica Hull had been jarred from her slumber by an earthquake so powerful, it shook her out of bed like an angry maid shaking out a dust mop for a boss who was not only disrespected, but despised.

Farmonica Hull picked herself up off the floor and look around. The devastation was two-fold (maybe even three-fold). Not only had a wall collapsed on her brand new flat screen TV causing all its inner workings to pop out and puff up like a bad bee sting-; but the new chaise lounge she had purchased from which to view it was a now flatter than the flat screen TV!

Farmonica Hull knew there was a word to describe something like that but she also knew she would never be able to remember what it was.

“Yoo-hoo!” called Farmonica’s disheveled next door neighbor, Scrubby Whodiddle. (Just Farmonica’s luck, Scrubby was still alive. Farmonica sighed so heavily a huge cloud of trouble filled the room.)

“Holy Toledo!”   Scrubby Whodiddle screeched as she entered. “I heard a crash and came a runnin’ and I thought that earthquake didn’t hit my place but I’ll bet Farmonica’s apartment is nothin’ but brick and rubble!” Scrubby Whodiddle cawed out a laugh so disturbing Farmonica Hull had no choice but to  pull out a gun and shoot her dead.

Well . . . maybe things were going to be shaping up a little for Farmonica Hull –DNA or no.

Salad Dressing Scientists Explain How to Make Salad Dressing The Scientific Way!

Today Dear Readers, I have a special treat in store for you!

I managed to track down a group of elusive scientists and talk them into showing us how to make oil and vinegar salad dressing the scientific way:

First, let’s meet The Scientists:

“Hi! My name’s Joe.”

“Hi!  My name’s Joe too.”

“Hi!  My name’s Joe but people call me Joe!”

“Hi I’m Joe and I’m about as Joe as it gets.”

Let’s take a minute to give our Salad Dressing Scientists a round of applause!

And now . . .how to prepare Oil and Vinegar Salad Dressing the Scientific Way!

Step One:  Reconfigure your kitchen refrigerator so that the reciprocating compressors are working to maximum capacity.

Uh oh!  Watch your step there Joe!

Oh sure it sounds like a lot of work, but really all you have to do is climb up in your kitchen attic (every kitchen has one) and disassemble the compressor.  Vacuum the dehydration system and viola!  Accessible Hermetic Compressors!  Who knew it would be so simple!

Step Two: Stick an olive on the end of a lead pipe.

That’s right!  Just like that!

This will give “slow” Joe (the Joe that’s always getting in everybody’s way) something to do while the other Joe’s continue to prepare the scientific salad dressing.   (Slow Joe LOVES eating olives off lead pipes.)

Step Three:  Adjust the Atmospheric Pressure Valves according to the atmospheric Pressure, PSIA.

OK, this is kind of a pain, but really it’s simply a matter of finding your kitchen’s cellar (every kitchen has one) and going down there and adjusting the knobs until the calibration level is 11.336.847.11111.0000.1.2.2.f.3.4.

If Joe can do it so can you!  Oh and don’t forget to wear rubber gloves!

Step Four:  Take one large Baskin Robbins container, eat all the ice cream out of it, then fill with oil and pour onto the  Refrigeration Compressor

Do it this way like Joe is only don’t get it all over the place like Joe always does.  Joe’s whole house smells like an oily rag!

Step Five:  Stick another olive on a lead pipe and hand it to “slow” Joe as by now he has probably figured out how to put the last one into his mouth.

Poor guy is addicted to these things!

Step Six:  Go to Costco and buy two restaurant sized jars of pickles, eat all the pickles out of each and pour oil in one and vinegar in the other.  (Be sure to remove the finely divided carbon so as not to restrict oil flow, but that goes without saying, of course!)

Make sure the liquid in both containers is Even Steven.

Step Seven:  Pour a little out of both jars onto some lettuce making sure to strain out soluble or entrained metal salts and oxides.

This is a critical step in which everything could go horribly wrong due to low-side pressure in the evaporator — but as long as there is no drop in pressure in the suction line everything should taste pretty darned delicious!

Step Eight:  Have Head Honcho Joe give it a taste test!

Uh oh!  Head Honcho Joe isn’t pleased with the consistency and, unfortunately,  it’s far too late to do anything about that!

Step Nine:  Draw Head Honcho Joe a scientific diagram of just exactly what went wrong with the scientific salad dressing, scientifically.

This will explain everything.

Step Ten:  Offer Head Honcho Joe an olive on a lead pipe and keep feeding them to him until he ingests so much lead he can’t tell a Critical Property of Refrigerant from a Pressure-Temperature Refrigerant! HA!

Mmmmmm . . . .me really starting to likee these things says Head Honcho Joe!

Until next time . . . I love you

How to Tell if Your Husband Has Been Watching Too Much Golf

• He used to be honest but now there’s nothing he likes better than a good lie

• He’s always trying to calculate his gas yardage

“Uh . . . let’s see here . . . $4.37 times 280 miles divided by 36 inches . . . wait . . .”

• He’s 63 now but he just can’t wait to turn 60 FORE!

• He insists the only thing that quenches his thirst is a big glass of water hazard.

“Now you pinkie swear this is from the 7th hole at Spyglass, right?”

• When it’s time for bed he announces he’s going to hole out.

• He has to make sure everything is done the fairway.

• He says he’ll only watch a movie that has Humphry Bogey Gart in it.

• He’s trying to rig up the washing machine so it will have back spin.

“Wait . . . which way was it going before?”

• Before he eats a potato chip he announces he’s going to “chip in”.

“Quiet everybody I’m chipping in!”

• He has completely cut out food you have to slice.

“I can’t eat that! It will ruin my mental game!”

• He won’t eat hard boiled eggs anymore because they don’t have dimples.

“What? No dimples? No eatie!

• He freaked out because he bought a dozen donuts and there wasn’t a hole in one.

  

  “Wait! Don’t eat any! I’m going to take them back because I don’t think there’s a hole in one.”

Until next time . . . I love you