It was a challenge for DeeDee And for Jim, her current squeeze, to get down to the birds and bees because when it came to please both insisted on Me Me.
DeeDee of the golden hair just wasn’t there and she was well matched to Jim who’s head, well thatched, also held what wasn’t there. Posted in response to the Ragtag Community Daily prompt: vacant. Apologies to the many "of golden hair" and "well thatched" heads who seek and who manage to fill the glory of … Continue reading All that Hair and Nothin’
Winter is here, but it isn’t on the Cape, hot and clear seventy-two with patches of sun, no snow, the seagulls from Seattle have moved in and settled to share the festivities of krill with wayward penguins sunbathing on the beach. Winter is here; but not on the Cape of Horn, forties and fifties with … Continue reading Winter is Here
“There is no evidence of ecstasy in this blood.” Eric said. As usual Eric was saying words that meant about ziltch. Eric is my friend but Eric is not very accurate when he speaks. Eric speaks for effect, not for saying anything you can put in your freezer. The bear was still out there. It … Continue reading Hunting Bear with Eric
Canute stood on the shore and drew a line in the sand The tide rolled in and ole Canute could not stand and stay dry, so he stepped away and said "O pride of men will make men dead." Old DjT took his magic marker and drew (o, so proud) hurricane lines a lot darker … Continue reading Dorian goes This Way
Everyone knew that Riley Holdcamp would eat anything except liver. It was not a secret. Since high school he had announced to every date and future potential spouse that if they ever served him liver and onions, he would extract revenge. He could not even tolerate to be in a dining room where liver was … Continue reading The Liver and Onions Eating Champion
O that rascal with his tassels, his garnishery and frilly finery O, curse the flouncery of his filigree, O, that rascal and his tassels. He wooed dear Gladys with his foppery; with sly coxcomb pompery he flirted his ruffling tassels; with brazen foofaraw doodaddery he pawned on my Gladys castles. With eyelash tassel moonery that … Continue reading O That Rascal with his Tassels
The old man asked “feed me please” “All I have is Cottage Cheese,” I said. “Large curd,” But he heard the rhyming word— And would not eat my Cottage Cheese.
“It’s the Win’er’s Solice today,” Bert Osburned said. “I think. Isn’t it?” He pulled his heavy brows down over his little eyes, a serious frown, which is about the way he made all his proclamations. He wore a wide brim hat and scuffed boots and had been a history teacher at the high school. Since … Continue reading A December Twenty-First Argument
In the spring OC arrived to see how “the fool’d wintered.” He found an empty cabin with the diary open on the rough log bench to a page dated February 12. The entry was, “The onliest hunt that matters is a man hunt. Going hunting.”