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Take Two was fun. Now it's back to business as usual.
Here’s today’s offering from Robert Lee Brewer at Poetic Asides:
For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem (six) with an interaction of some sort. The interaction does NOT have to be between people, though it can. For instance, you could write about the interaction between a bee and a flower; or an owl and a field mouse. Or just write about a traffic cop getting into an argument with a speeder. Just as long as there is some sort of interaction going on.
And here’s today’s offering from The Writer’s Book of Matches (Writers’ Digest Books):
“I’d be surprised if their marriage lasts a year.”
The bitchy part of me finds that irresistible :) See you in the comments.
Change is Good--Right?
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Hello dear readers--are you still out there?
It's been awhile, and I wouldn't blame you for moving on. I felt the need
for change, and have spent some tim...
6 years ago
3 comments:
The idea's half baked, the execution doughy, but I'm out of time to let this one cook properly. Sorry, on so many levels (and that includes the overwrought cooking metaphor.)
Beauty Shop Psychic
Trudi watched Norma slip a plastic bag over Donna’s head full of tiny blue perm rods, half wishing Norma would drape it over her face and suffocate the old cow.
“Well, I’d be surprised if their marriage lasts a year,” Trudi said.
Donna shot a sideways look at her and blotted at the halo of cotton jammed around her hairline. “You’re just jealous, Trudi; I saw all those times you came on to him down to the VFW and him still married!”
Trudi felt her arms cross over her chest as her voice squeaked out, “He came on to me.”
Donna lit a cigarette, then talked around it, one eye squinted to avoid the rising smoke. “Yeah, old Bob’s a pig, and I ought know; that’s how I ended up married to him myself.”
The execution was fine, Greta. I nice start for a story I know you'll expand into something else.
Your selection obviously doesn't hold much optimism, but hope is in the eye of the beholder.
A Shoulder To Cry On
I blew across my coffee, took a sip, and said, “I’ll be surprised if their marriage lasts a year.”
Bill glanced over the morning newspaper and asked what made me think so.
“I didn’t come up with it,” I said, now stirring in another packet of sugar, giving Bill the story about how Jim had told me that he only gave it a year. “And the weird thing is, when I asked him why he was going ahead with it, he just shrugged and said, ‘Because she wants it.’”
Bill folded the paper and tossed it on the break room table, his signal that it was time to get to work. He grunted, stood, fixed his too-low belt and the tie that wasn’t long enough to cover the expanse of his gut, and then said, “Well then, I guess I’ve got a year to worm my way in and be the shoulder she’ll need when everything falls apart.”
Ok, waaaaay better than mine, Stephen. You win and I don't even feel bad about it.
BTW, wait til you see what I have for the next few days. We were eavesdropping at the Chinese buffet today :)
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