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Archive for the ‘books’ Category


 

woman yellow dress

Imagine a world where the undead exist and you hope one side or the other will pick you to join them. What if the wrong side picked you?

Barb lay faced down on the pavement. Her warm blood flowing away from her like a river, carrying with it her life. She was helpless to do anything but watch. With a last shuttering gasp, blackness enveloped her.

“Hey lady, you okay?”

The smell of vomit and cheap liquor stung her nose. She gagged. Perhaps Barb had cheated death after all. She pulled herself up. The ugly gaping wound was still there. She could clearly see intestines, but there was no blood. Not a drop.

Her heart wasn’t beating. She wasn’t breathing.

“Oh geeze, not undead. Anything but zombie. This is certainly going to put a damper on my sex life. And the whole flesh eating things. I’m a vegetarian for gosh sakes. This isn’t going to work for me,” she yelled at no one in particular.

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cropped-99nnb.jpg

“My first mistake, falling in love with my enemy. My second, not killing him when I had the chance.” The first line of The Novel With No Name and hasn’t been started yet. What do you think?

I was challenged to try First Line Friday by Rami Ungart at https://ramiungarthewriter.wordpress.com/. Okay, Rami I accept your challenge.

You can play along at home. Here’s what you do.

  1. Create a post on your blog titled #FirstLineFriday, hashtag and all.
  2. Explain the rules like I’m doing now.
  3. Post the first one or two lines of a potential work, a work-in-progress, or a completed or published story.
  4. Ask your readers for feedback and then encourage them to try #FirstLineFriday on their blogs (tagging is encouraged but not necessary).

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Top 7 Reasons the Mayan calendar ended in 2012

- (22)

Because the author’s chisel broke.

Because the author accrued a lot of vacation.

Because someone got carpal tunnel syndrome.

Because an overachiever got really far ahead.

Because they ran out of flat rocks.

Because the dirty English came with their chicken pox.

The great Mayan calendar maker’s strike of the 5th century B.C.

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green coat toon

Random scene that played out in my head while I was trying to sleep.

Pam’s heels clicked on the tile floor. We were headed to the Friday morning staff meeting. A couple of interns almost broke their necks trying to catch a glance at Pam’s rear. She was the kind of woman who attracted attention.

“Heads up,” I whispered, “Danny’s wife is going to call you.”

Danny had only been married for six months.

“Me, why?”

“She found out Danny and I slept together a couple of years ago.”

It had only been twice on a business trip to Rio. I had obviously lost my mind.

“And that involves me why?”

“I had to throw you under the bus to get her off the phone.” Danny’s wife had turned out to be the jealous type.

“Really?” Pam was still as cool as ever.

We entered the still empty conference room. It was way too bright without coffee, which I would have had by now if I wasn’t answering phone calls from Danny’s wife.

“I told her Danny slept with you, Marcie and Barb.”

“He slept with Barb?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Between you and Marcie.”

“Was he trying to make me jealous?”

“Yeap,” I chuckled.

“Huh, I didn’t notice.”

“That made it more fun to watch.” I slid into my customary seat and waited for the others to join us.

“She called me a slut,” I said, tapping my pen.

Pam laughed, not just chuckled, an outright laugh.

I continued, “Do you think I’m a slut?”

“You haven’t slept with a man in two years. That and a few Hail Mary’s and you’re practically a nun.”

Other consultants began piling in the room. The rest of this conversation would have to wait.

 

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Scene in which Ambrose a vampire like creature is sitting on a roof while Madison who has slipped is hanging on the edge. He’s asked to help, but she tells him she doesn’t need his help. —-

I clung to the shingles on the roof’s edge. My hands slipped and I lost my hold.

Time paused and everything seemed to move in slow motion.

I fell backwards. Ambrose’s face moved further away. My arms were flailing, my hands reaching for him. The pounding of my heart filled my ears.

The cold night air pushed past me. as my head tipped further back, I could see the inked night above me. The stars. There were so many for being in the city. I could see my hair in front of me. Would this kill me or merely main me?

My heart pounded.  The north star? I found myself searching for it. My heart beat. Funny I was falling and looking for a star.

Time caught up to me and I slammed to a stop.

I felt no pain. Had I hit the pavement so hard I felt nothing? My heart beat, I was alive.

Ambrose’s face hovered above mine.

He smiled. “I guess you needed me after all.”

He’d caught me.

My arms and legs began to flail again. But instead of reaching for him, I was pushing him away.

Arrogant Bastard.

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32 (10)

The following is a series of short random thoughts I had during the day when I should have been doing something productive.

I didn’t stretch my jaw enough before I started talking I think I pulled a muscle. Now I have a headache. Am I the only person alive who has to stretch her jaw muscles to start the day?

I was feeling nostalgic thinking back on my childhood, so I decided to recreate a summer camp memory. I took a shower in cold water pretending I was back in girl scouts … I remembered why I hated girl scouts.

How is it the blinking light on my phone saying I have emails or tweets wakes me up, but I sleep through two alarms? Maybe that’s my super power and I’m now a super hero.

I hate it when I have to go to the doctor for a shot. The shot doesn’t really bother me. It’s my doctor. He has osteoporosis and his nurse has arthritis in her hands. Who do I chose? I wind up flipping a coin,

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I’ve been a bit under the weather. The doctor prescribed me a cough medicine with codeine.

Wrapped in a warm blanket snuggle into the depths of the sofa, the darkness had settled and with it a drowsy drugged feeling. I hadn’t coughed in almost an hour.

The light from the television pushing just enough light into the room to make out the patches on Grandma’s old quilt.

Soft elevator music played in the background while a man in the lobby of a large office building buffed the floor. A comforting fog moved into my mind.

What was the name of this movie? My mind drifted like a cloud.

A deafening crash echoed through the room as a body slams on top of a truck on the screen in front of me.

My chest was heaving my body tense, I was hardly able to process what just happened. I looked around at the people watching TV with me. They were staring at me with open mouthed amazement.

“Did I scream out loud?”

“Yeah,” my roomie replied.

I screamed like I have never screamed before. Hollywood pays people for this kind of high pitched, gut wrenching scream of terror. I tell you this so that you may learn a lesson from it. If you are taking cough medicine with codeine, do not watch a movie called Devil. I had to pray myself to sleep last night.

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After hours of shopping, I was trying on slacks in a brightly lit dressing room. Finally, I found a pair that fit perfectly.  Tight enough in the right places and loose in others.

When I stepped out of the dressing room to show my friend, she said, “You have the ass that could rule the world.”

Maybe I could rule the world. I seriously considered her statement before realizing there are already enough asses ruling out there now.

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203 a

It was early one spring when I found myself on a French highway between Normandy and Paris with my panties strung on a line across the back window of a silver sports car. French truck drivers, not unlike American truck drivers were quick to express their approval of my delicates flapping in the breeze as I zoomed back to Paris.

This would never have happened if I hadn’t decide liquor was more important than panties. You see I worked in Europe three weeks of every month. So naturally, I decided I could forego clothing to create luggage space for more wine and champagne.

This time my brilliance got the best of me. I found myself in the unfortunate position of being in a hotel in rural France without clean panties.

Never fear, I thought, a quick wash in the sink and they’ll be dry and ready for the flight back to the U.S. in the morning.

However, come morning my “delicates” were still wet. Not to be outwitted by panties, I grabbed a string from the hotel owner and strung it across the back window of the sports car I had rented. I set off for Paris, my windows down and my line of undies flapping behind me. Admiring truck drivers honked at me all the way back to Paris.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t calculated air speed and drag, not being of the mathematically minded. As I pulled into the car rental lot to the shocked horror of the Parisian employees, one end of the string had pulled loose and the whole string was waving like a kite high above the back of that sports car shining in the morning sun.

They found me ripping my underwear out of the back window and shoving it into my suitcase just in time to catch my flight. They didn’t even had the decency to look haughty.

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3 (2)

My Boss has been curious about Twitter. His daughter has an account and he wanted to check out what she might be up to. So he created an account.

The next day he came to me and said, “I’m not sure how, but my daughter figured out I was following her.”

I asked, “What’s your user ID?”

He said, “His first and last name.”

“I think that might be the issue.”

____________________________________________

He sent me a text that said “What’s your phone number?”

I sent back, “I think you just texted it.”

____________________________________________

My boss has the same first name as someone else I know. I was going to be working late so I wrote the following email.

“Dear Tom,

I’m working late tonight. I’ll have to cancel dinner.

Love you, DD”

I accidentally sent the email to my boss, who wrote back –

“We need to finish all the test cases tonight. I’m going to pick up some pizzas.

Tom, your boss not the other one.

P.S. I love you too.”

 

I love my boss. He understands me better than most, nobody’s perfect.

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