The words for this week's ten word challenge were: spaghetti, larkspur, Prilosec, roaring lion, adamant, green green grass of home, paradox, filibuster, face cream, trout fishing And for the Mini Challenge: jury of ones peers, barking dog, a wing and a prayer, liver, sprained ankle
Here's my ten-word offering for this week.
“Where the hell is the Prilosec,” Alex shrieked like a roaring lion. Frantic, he pushed aside face cream, band aids, Vaseline, and a host of other things in his desperate search. “You’re killing me, Susie. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that spaghetti and my stomach don’t mix. I’m adamant about this. No more spaghetti.” In the other room, Susie shook her head. Oh, the bitter paradox of it all. Here was this selfish son of a bitch screaming at her about killing HIM, when she had succumbed after weeks of his virtual filibuster on the subject and had given up her longed-for vacation in
And my mini challenge:
Jumping quickly over the wire fence, Martin managed to avoid the barking dog. He had, it seemed escaped the grip of justice on a wing and a prayer and as well as a sprained ankle. But he had escaped. He had no desire to face a jury of his peers. Few, he thought, would sympathize with a lily-livered coward like himself for stealing from a little old lady, especially in the cause of paying off his bookie.
And finally the mega challenge:
Larkspur Lingwater hummed happily to herself as she removed the thick layer of face cream and gazed contentedly in the mirror. It was one of life’s odd paradoxes that now that she was no longer young and pretty, she none-the-less felt happier about herself. It was one of life’s miracles that two things as unlikely as a barking dog and a sprained ankle could have converged to bring love into her life when advanced years should have guaranteed perpetual loneliness. Nor was it theirs a love of desperation or solitude. Henry was all she had ever dreamed of - a roaring lion of a man, passionate, stubborn, adamant about his beliefs. But he was kind and tender too. One minute he could be filibustering on some topic like the obscenity of torturing ducks in order to harvest their livers and the next he would be waxing eloquent on the American legal system and the virtues of being judged by a jury of one’s peers. Where she had lived her whole life on a wing and a prayer, he had about him a solidity that was comforting without being stifling. Her make-up now complete, she blew herself a kiss in the bathroom mirror, popped a Prilosec (just in case the trout fishing expedition had not born trout and they were reduced to an meal of spaghetti) and headed for the kitchen just in time to hear the voice she so loved joyfully singing (that’s what he called it anyway) – the green, green grass of home. Then the door burst open and the love of her life announced, “Your hero has returned.” ”And you have brought fish, brave boy!” “So I have my love, “ he chuckled, sweeping her into his arms. “Tonight we shall feast.”
This week's vanity wordzzle used the words: Protuberance, fiddlesticks, Tai Chi, fundamentals, Persimmon tree, courageous, glow, top hat, tired, fountain
“Fiddlesticks!” Jack Moscowitz muttered softly to himself. “Fiddlesticks times 2 and then some. I will never get it right. Never.” He was tired, but his skin was still glowing from his recent workout with Master Yin Lee. He leaned against the water fountain and drank deeply. The water slid comfortingly down his throat, but did not quench the deeper thirst of his soul, and he looked down bitterly at the protruberance that was what remained of his right leg. Mr. Yin Lee was teaching him the fundamentals of Tai Chi, teaching him also the mysteries of Eastern philosophy. Mr. Yin had told him he was courageous. He did not feel courageous. He felt helpless and emasculated by the loss of his leg. He had been a dancer, you see, before the accident and Fred Astaire, in top hat and tails had been his idol, his vision for his own future. Now he could only wobble gracelessly. The magic was lost. He was lost. Mr. Yin was not helping. “Be like the Persimmon tree,” he had crooned this evening and gone into a long, silly tale about the tree and its fruit. Jack did not want to be like the Persimmon tree. He wanted to be like Fred Astaire. But he never would be now. “Fiddlesticks,” he muttered again and then wondered what Fred Astaire would have thought about Persimmon trees. And feeling inexplicably comforted, he put on his coat and headed home.
Next Week's Ten Word Challenge will be: prenomial, inexplicable, tangerine, masks, chocolate cake, panorama, librarian,
And for the Mini Challenge: vituperative, bunny rabbit, house warming, sanitation, triangular
Thanks for playing. For those who are new, here are some guidelines to make the process more fun.
Enjoy! See you next week.
DON'T FORGET TO ADD YOUR NAME TO MR. LINKY!!!!!