Crazy Conversations (The Diner)

Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. CAUTION: They cuss.


Milwaukee Road diner car interior

Teddy: Let’s hurry and order. I’m having my hair colored in an hour.

Beth: Are you kidding? You look fabulous with gray hair Teddy. Don’t you dare dye it! You’re one of the rare few who can gray naturally and look so good. It’s beautiful dear, be proud of it – you can’t get that color in a bottle you know.

Gene: You can’t get shit in a bottle either.

Beth: Did you just say your wife’s hair looks like shit Gene?

Gene: No, I said you can’t get shit in a bottle. That’s all I said.

Beth: Sure you can. Of course you can. You can get shit in a bottle, can’t you Teddy?

Teddy: I think I’ll have a double martini.

Gene: No you can’t. Well maybe you could put it in there yourself if you wanted to but you can not buy it.

Beth: I know darn well you can. You can buy anything you want in a bottle. You can buy deer and coyote urine… I imagine you could buy duck pee if the urge struck you.

Gene: Yeah but you can’t buy shit Beth and you know that’s the truth!

Beth: Baloney! That is not the truth. And what do you know about the truth you dumb son of a bitch.

Gene: Come now, you’re being ridiculous. You surely know you can’t buy a container of feces.

Beth: Don’t you speak condescending to me you lying little maggot. I’ll buy you a bottle of shit just to prove it can be done.

Gene: Why would I want a bottle of shit?

Beth: How would I know? You’re a pervert – what you do with it is your business.

Gene: I don’t want to do anything with it.

Beth: Then what do you want it for? Just so you can say you have a bottle of shit in your pantry? That’s crazy.

Gene: I’m not crazy and I do not appreciate your wisecrack. I’m on an antidepressant Beth, I am not insane.

Beth: Oh really? How many other people do you know that want a bottle of shit in their kitchen cupboard?

Gene: I don’t want a bottle of shit!

Beth: My heavens man then tell me what is it that you want?

Gene:  I don’t want anything.

Teddy: Are you sure dear? I think I’ll have the chowder.

Weekly Photo Challenge (Inside)

For this weeks photo challenge I went immediately to an old jewelry box and looked inside.  I recall rummaging through my grandmothers costume jewelry like a pirate with precious booty.

Inside the Jewelry Box

Mine is filled with trinkets of cheap metals,  faux pearls and inexpensive stones but they are treasures to me and every piece holds a dear memory of the bestower.  This weeks theme also inspired me to share a prose from Interior Verse (which is free via kindle right now) titled The Chest of Hope.

 

The Chest of Hope

The Chest of Hope

It’s just a small brown wicker basket not built to hold much and a bit tattered from over handling.

Its beautiful warm browns have dulled and faded with age on the outside but inside the natural luster still shines. Its top is held in place by make do leather ties because the first woody hasps were worn in two and now dangle loosely without purpose.

What hands made the airy coffer?  I wonder as I stroke the thin smooth fibers.

Was it one as handsome as the tight weaves frayed by time?

Though dust has long since claimed his finger prints-

I know that he was a weaver; I imagine that he was a dream weaver…

Diligently intertwining each cane thread with my hopes in mind…

A place to store my breathing dreams so that they could be kept safe and close at hand, amassed in a beautiful fibrous reminder.

A quaint little chest of hope I will one day hand down to a child, a grand child or perhaps even a great grand child when I have used up its contents.

When I have taken the dusty lid off one last time and felt deep into the corners to make certain I haven’t left any ideas untouched.

I imagine when I offer it up to him or her they will look at me like I’m crazy (and I may well be) then they’ll tear the lid off expecting to find a treasure of sorts before saying with disappointment, “It’s just an empty old basket.” It is then I will share with them the wishes and ideas that were stored and later born of that basket. How they were kept safe till I could see them come to fruition. And one more time I will imagine the handsome dark skinned man who meticulously weaved the wonderful piece…a place to store my dreams because dreams need room to breathe.

Then I will show them how to place their own aspirations into the old auburn chest with caution to keep them safe, to nurture their hopes and give them time to mature.

And if my last wish were to come true I will see them realize the birth of their visions.

Follow Me to Fame (The Numbers Game)

Everyone who is anyone has a twitter account, right? Well that’s what the promotional experts say. I want to be somebody, after all I am trying to sell books. But (for me) it’s not just about the selling I actually like people. I like to interact with them from time to time. I understand that is an outdated concept so call me old fashioned.

Anyway I opened a twitter account and for the most part I have met some interesting people and enjoyed getting to know a little bit about them and the work they do. A few of them just run naked down the twitter isles yelling buy my_____.

I suppose I am like any other tweeter who wants to be famous; I get a warm fuzzy feeling over new followers. As a matter of fact I check my mail first thing every morning to see if I have a new follower. This morning low and behold I do and there is more than one!

Yippee! I am pumped. From their profile [at least what shows up in my inbox] they look interesting. They’re acclaimed authors, bloggers, writers, photographers, anchormen, comedians, media moguls etc… so I hurry over to twitter to have a better look. I could click follow from the inbox but that would be too impersonal. I must go over in person and say hello, make them feel welcome and thank them. I mean, my gosh! These awesome upper echelons with thousands of followers want to follow a nobody like me?

My fingers are trembling against the keyboard as I log in. I nervously wait those 2.2 seconds for the page to load and all the while thinking Yes! Oh lardy yes, I already know I am going to follow them too!

Then the ‘hmm’ moment. I glance to the left at the double digit numbers that are the same as they were a week ago. That can’t be right so I hit the follower’s tab and guess what? They’re not there!? I’m devastated! My awesome followers have disappeared. How can that be? How could I have offended them before even saying hello?  Is this a cruel joke? Should I search them out and ask them what changed their mind? Should go back to my inbox and hit follow???

I seriously consider laying my head on the desk and crying but I can’t stop laughing long enough.

The numbers game that is being played to make one look important just strikes me as funny. To look good on twitter, to seem ‘sought after’ the number of people following you must be significantly higher than the number you follow. So how do you do that? You follow someone just long enough for the notification to be sent and then you un-follow them. Most of them will never notice because they’re too busy running naked down the twitter isles hoping you will buy something and follow them to fame.

[heavy sigh]

In closing let me say, thank you for that beautiful millisecond we shared but sorry Joe, Jim, Lisa, Dianne and all of you other fabulous, possibly famous, most popular peeps on the world wide web. I’m gonna sit this one out.

Book Quiz: Between the Rage and Grace

There will be no red markers or downward adjustments to your GPA I promise. There will be no raising of hands and no roll call, you shall remain carefree and nameless. This quiz is just for fun.

Of course if you score well feel free to brag 🙂

Here are ten questions from the first book in the series Between the Rage and Grace.

Clickers ready? Go!

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Movement

I’ve been perusing various blogs and looking at some pretty awesome takes on the weekly photo challenge titled Movement all the while fighting my sick sense of humor to catch someone on the toilet and post that movement. I know, ewwww. Relax, my decent side won out [thank goodness] and I chose a photo of my son tossing skeet.

Two Fisted Skeet Toss


Oops, My bad (The Consolation Prize)

It has been brought to my attention that I did say I would offer a consolation prize for those not winning the giveaway of Behind the Rage in trade paperback by running a free kindle promo of said title. I realize [now] that the giveaway was over in May and I have had more than a month to list the free kindle version.    I won’t insult you by saying I thought I did or with excuses of how busy I’ve been or that I’ve had a debilitating sinus infection although I do have a doctor’s excuse and receipts for Kleenex to prove it. I won’t bore you with my short term memory problems or the possible onset of dementia…

I’ll just say Oops, my bad, I’m sorry and I’m gonna do it right now. It should be showing up on Amazon as $0.00 starting Tuesday July 10th – Saturday July 14th. If not then just go ahead and shoot me with your nerf gun.

And seriously I want to say, Thank you all for your support and patience.

Deleted Scenes

Just for fun I thought I’d share a few scenes that didn’t make the final draft(s).

Deleted Scenes

Between the Rage and Grace

“ER — this is Clara.” The anxious nurse spoke into the phone. After listening attentively to the switchboard operator, she giggled and replied, “Send him on back.”

“What have we got?” Maggie asked, without looking up from the tangled mess of yarn meant to be a sweater.

“Um… a sixty two year old male who says he took two Viagra five hours ago and he can’t… uh… he can’t get it down.”

“Well what goes up must come down.”  Maggie pretended not to notice Clara’s stammering or the red glow lighting her face. She shoved the knitting materials back into the bag and added, “That is the law of physics Clara Bell.”

“Have you ever seen priapism before?  How will we treat it?”

“Prepare the sheaths! Limber thy hips!” The older nurse announced, jumping to her feet with a fist in the air. “And let the games begin!”

**Editor yells “CUT!”**

Behind the Rage

“Mary Magdalene-” he whispered, “are you menstruating?”  She didn’t answer. Slowly he eased the blanket from her motionless body, hesitated briefly and returned the cover. She could see him floating toward the door.

“Wait!” she urged.

Without turning the priest murmured, “I can not. Your condition will make me unclean. I’m sorry.”

Frustrated that the opportunity for revenge was passing, that she would not get the item she needed to bind the perverted priest, she hissed, “Then squawk like a chicken.”

Bwaahk, bwak, bwak. The cleric pressed his hands to his mouth but was unable to silence the involuntary sounds.

**Snip snip snip and the sound of paper hitting the floor**

Unjustified Favor

“Oh, come on Maggie. Why do you have Mr. ‘Mean-ass I can’t stand nobody not even my hateful stinking self’ on my schedule?” Clara asked with an exaggerated frown.

“Because you’re low man on the totem pole.” Linda interjected, “I would go but you know I’m too fat to run from the mad dachshunds.”

“Right! And why do we even have to deal with those two dogs?”

“Want me to tell you how to handle them?” Linda asked.

“Yes, please.” Clara replied.

“Okay. Here’s what you do. Are you listening?” Clara nodded and moved closer. When Linda was certain her coworker was waiting with bated breath she continued, “Approach them slowly, and speak gently so they don’t feel threatened.”

“Okay.”

“It’s easier to contend with one of them at a time – I suggest you work with the slower one first.” Clara nodded again. “Sit down and offer them a treat, a dog biscuit dipped in peanut butter would be nice – keeps their little mouth busy and dogs like peanut butter.”

“Uh huh. I can do that.”

“As soon as one of them, remember the slow one first, as soon as he gets within easy reach grab him firmly by the neck.”

“Why?”

“Don’t interrupt; this is the most important part.”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“As I was saying, grab him by the neck firmly. When you’ve got a sure hold on him squeeze with both hands as hard as you can.” Clara’s eyes widened and Linda watched as her jaw dropped exposing an open mouth. She wanted to draw out the details but it was getting harder to keep a straight face. “As soon as you see his eyes bulge, squeeze harder – give it all you’ve got. Do this until his tongue hangs out and his little body goes limp. When he’s not breathing you’ll be half way done with your dog problem. ”

**“CUT – CUT- CUT!!!”**

But editor what if PETA rushes in and throws Linda to the floor and she yells “Can’t you see I’m pregnant.”

**No! I said cut dammit!”**

Where to buy the books

Between the Rage & Grace, Behind the Rage & Unjustified Favor are combined in The Rage TrilogyUpdate; When the fourth book (Cloud Wrangler) was imagined in 2017 we couldn’t call the set a “trilogy” anymore so, the Clan Destiny series was born.

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Weekly Photo Challenge (Fleeting Moment)

This has got to be this worst photograph I have ever taken (at least sober anyway) yet when I saw it Fleeting Moment is exactly what I conjured. I was attempting to snap a shot of a pair of hawks that hang out at the edge of the woods. I hurried and spun the camera and well… you get the picture. I looked through fifty other photos in trying to prepare this post and kept coming back to this cull. I think it is because it says more to me than any crystal clear image could. I titled it Time.

Time

Weekly Photo Challenge (Create)

My creation was a happenstance epiphany of sorts.It occurred while making dinner just this night…

Summer Salads

Sorry, I ate the fried potatoes before I could snap the picture. All of this creating made me hungry.