The One With Kenny Chesney And The Zombies

Prompt: “Your friend discovers an alternative fuel and the car makers try to kill him.”

‘Wait! I have to stop for a minute.’ I leaned against the concrete wall of the abandoned service station, hands resting on my thighs and gasping for breath, ‘How long have we been running now?’ My best friend leaned next to me, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. “I don’t know,” she was trying to catch her own breath, “Two days now?” I joined her on the ground and we scanned our surroundings for a minute. The only sounds were the distant traffic and our labored breathing.

Beverly pulled a bottle of water from the backpack slung over her shoulder. She opened it and took a drink, then passed it to me. “This is crazy!” Only she used more colorful expressions, expressions so colorful that they’re not allowed in short stories and even some porn. I nodded in agreement – I was quite used to her colorful expressions, they only made me cringe a little now. “You did discover a new fuel,” I reminded her, passing the water bottle back to her, “One that would put half the big-wig corporations out of business. It’s no wonder they’re trying to kill us.” “How was I supposed to know that mixing mayonnaise and ranch dressing would make a car run?” Bev kicked at a rock near her foot, “I was just trying to jack up that SOB’s car for taking the last Twinkie at Circle K!”

I giggled suddenly, “You and your Twinkies. We should be in a zombie movie.” “Well,” she shot me a grin, “We did turn that whole laundry mat full of people into zombies when we threw that vial with the virus at them.” “I just wanted to see what it would do!” Gotta defend my actions, even if they were a little on the not-too-smart-there side.

“No worries,” Bev shot me a confident smirk as she lit up a smoke, “We’ll be fine when we get to Kenny Chesney’s place. Our contacts said he would help us out.” “You’ve been planning to kidnap Kenny Chesney for years now,” I rolled my eyes, “but Kayla knows her CIA agents and swears he’s one, so it’s worth a shot.” We stood and picked up our packs and shotguns. “Let’s go, before those whackos from the car companies find us again.” “Or the zombies,” Bev added, taking a last puff off her cigarette. We walked away from the station; it went up in flames behind us as she tossed her smoke over her shoulder.

We do like to make a scene.


The Minimalist (War) Game

I’ve decided to do The Minimalist Game ( You get rid of something you don’t use, don’t need, etc., every day. So far, so good. Six days into the year, and I’ve gotten rid of a basket of stuff already. Okay, technically it’s still here. Tomorrow, though, it’s going elsewhere. The kids’ clothes is going to my bestie for her daughter, the rest is going to goodwill or being given away.

Did I mention that getting rid of things with the kids in the room is a war of its own? “Why are you getting rid of that, mom?” “You’ve never played with this, ever. You didn’t even know it was in here.” “But I was going to play with it right now! You just found it first!” Riiiiight.

My kids are shooting each other with their nerf guns. Should I intervene? Nahhh, not yet.. School has been called for tomorrow again, because of the weather & such. I haven’t told them that yet. It was called today, & hubby went in around 9 a.m. & woke our son by calling “Get up, you’re going to be late!” THEN he told him school was called.

I was eating toast this morning, because hey, I like toast. Hubby’s sitting there laughing at me, because I threw a bite of the crust in the trash. I asked him, “What are you laughing at?” His reply? “I’m watching crazy brain eat toast.” Ha! He’s so funny. Funnnny. Really though, it was funny.

I was shot in the head with a Nerf bullet just now. It’s on. This is war.

nerf war

Haiku because i’m sleepy!

I am sleepy now.

The rain is falling outside,

and I want to nap.

Underground – Tom Waits

There’s a big dark town


No Dignity In Death (By Woodchipper)

Prompt:  ‘I have the right to die in a dignified manner,” she told her family.’

The family stood outside the storage shed – Mom and dad, two brothers and three sisters. Their eyes were on the fourth sister, who stood next to a large contraption which sat outside the shed’s doors.

The fourth daughter was upset. “I have the right to die in a dignified manner,” she told her family. “Now Betsy,” Mom stepped forward, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, “There is nothing dignified about throwing yourself into the wood chipper!” “She’s right, you know,” one of the twin brothers (oldest by two minutes) added, “Your guts and blood and bones are gonna fly everywhere.” “And I just did that laundry!” the youngest sister pointed to the clothesline which hung nearby, drying in the gentle breeze (because drying them on the line made them smell springtime fresh). It was in the direct line of fire of the wood chipper.

“Well it’s not fair!” Betsy stomped her foot, “Bobby was supposed to take me to the prom and now he’s taking that — that — whore!”

Pop covered his hands with his face, Mom gasped “Language!” and the other sisters giggled. The brothers rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“Is that all?” the youngest of the twins asked. “Is that all? Is that all!” Betsy picked up a piece of wood and chucked it at him, “I don’t have a prom date! Everyone will laugh at me!”

“We’ll take care of that girl for you,” the oldest brother soothed, “then you’ll have your prom date back.” “Sure,” his twin agreed with a grin, “Knock her in the head, take her out to Pike’s Point and throw her in the woods, they won’t find her for months. Prom will be over by then.”

“You would do that for me?” Betsy smiled for the first time since her date had dumped her, “Really?”

“Of course,” both brothers agreed, “Anything for our little sister!”

“You’re the best!” Betsy threw herself at her brothers, nearly knocking them over.

“Can we go inside now?” Pop shook his head and turned toward the house, “My dinner’s getting cold.”



10 Lines

“Write a 10 line poem”.

Write a 10 line poem, it says.
How dare it demand creativity
like it’s demanding oxygen?

You’re not the boss of me, prompt.
You don’t make up my life!
I write what I want, when I want!

Who are you to tell me
what I should write, and when?
You’re just a prompt, that’s all.

A 10 line poem, indeed.


A bit of a prompt & some very random fiction

The prompt: “Close your eyes and write about what immediately pops into your head”.  Okay, here goes..

The skies were cloudy – it was going to rain. She knew this as sure as she knew that leaving laundry on the line in a storm would be a bad idea. She shielded her eyes against the skies, staring at the grey-blue above her for a moment longer. With a shake of her head, she dropped her hand and turned to the line. She pulled the clothespins and dropped them and the freshly dried sheets into the basket she carried.

She turned with a smile as a voice behind her said, “I don’t know why you hang those out here. You have a very capable dryer inside.” “I like the scent the fresh air leaves,” she pulled the last sheet, then shoved the basket into the arms of the man whom approached her. “You’re welcome to dry the next load yourself.” He laughed and shook his head, then followed her toward house. “Better close the windows,” he commented, glancing up, “It’s going to rain.”



I have no idea where that came from. O_o Oh well! It’s writing of some description and that was the goal. 🙂

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