Welcome to today's microfiction! Hope you had a great weekend. Grandma's Goulash graciously hosts Succinctly Yours, the wonderful meme for those of us addicted to microfiction. The trick is to write a story in 140 characters or less using the photo below as inspiration. To add to the challenge is the word of the week, "nimble." My stories are below.
Frosted #1: See Him Choke
(137 characters)
Stu Frost, earnest but not nimble of brain, blew his chance with Ms. Dayberry when he tipped his hat and said, “Good Berries, Ms. Day!”
****
Frosted #2: Up in Smoke
(139 characters)
"I'm gonna give those anti-smokers a swift kick in the snowballs!"Clearly, Frosty held a grudge since the banishment of his corn cob pipe.
To read the microfiction stories of others participating in this meme, please click HERE.
Thanks for visiting! See you on Wednesday for the naked truth about . . . Christmas Secrets.
Grandma's Goulash graciously hosts Succinctly Urs, (the wonderful meme for those of us addicted to microfiction. The trick is to write a story in 140 characters or less using the photo below as inspiration. To add to the challenge is the word of the week, "expedient." My stories are below.
Despite complex alien espionage methods, Flybl’s demise is expedited by a flyswatter-wielding granny with sensible shoes and impeccable aim.(140 characters)
Happy Fourth of July to my U.S. friends, happy Canada Day (July 1st) to our northern neighbors with whom we share this holiday weekend. To all -- happy Monday! Here's hoping the week brings wonderful happenings.
It is with great joy that I share this important news: I am no longer drowning in snot! I've been upgraded from "drown" to "wade". Mucinex and Aleve are still my closest companions, but we've agreed to stop seeing each other so often.
During my forced bed rest I revisited a home remedy that stands head and shoulders above the rest, and if you read the comments from my last post you may recall the mention of Grandma's Hot Toddy. This wonderful elixir---used only for medicinal purposes, of course---works wonders on sore throats and weary muscles. It even helps clear a stuffy nose. Here it is:
1 cup boiling water
1-2 shots whiskey
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2-3 tablespoons of honey
Mix til blended and drink it up! The quantities of whiskey, lemon juice and honey may be adjusted up or down to suit your taste. Grandma's Hot Toddy won't cure a summer cold, but after downing a few of these babies, buttercup, your outlook is sure to improve.
Per Grandma's Cold Timetable (a week to get the cold, a week to have it, and a week to get rid of it) I am on week three of the program so things are looking up. My old pals Mucinex and Aleve will pack their bags and head back to the medicine box, and Jim Beam will reposition himself in the downstairs pantry where he will start collecting dust on his shoulders again.
Well. . .okay. Maybe Jim can stick around a little longer. He doesn't take up too much space and you never can tell when the need will arise for an emergency hot toddy. These summer colds have a habit of relapsing, you know.
"Heddo. By dose is stuffy and by throat is od fire. The good dews is that this is a virus you cad't catch over the idderdet."
Yes, buttercup, my word pronunciation sounds like the above, thanks to this nasty summer cold invading my sinuses. I caught this villainous virus while performing a good deed. My daughter, Stephanie, suffered from this icky stuff last week. She sounded pitiful, and I rushed to her apartment armed with chicken soup, cold medicine, juice pops, OJ, a thermometer, and lots of sympathy. My "mommy ministrations" brought a smile to my girl's face; they also left me vulnerable to the dreaded Summer Cold.
I know I taught her to share, but does she have to be such an overachiever?
Why are summer colds worse than winter colds? And if I present this question in writing with lots of scientific sounding gibberish do you think the government will award me a grant for the study of this perplexing puzzlement? Just asking.
Colds are rotten any time of the year, but in the summer they seem especially awful. Maybe it is because summer brings mental pictures of water and beaches and lots of sunshine. Winter, with its bare-limbed trees and icy winds seems destined to be inhabited by viruses. Summer is supposed to be the anti-winter. Unfortunately, cold viruses didn't get the memo.
My grandma always said a cold sticks around for three weeks: one week to catch it, one week to suffer with it, and one week to get rid of it. Lucky for me, even though I'll be a mouth breather until the first of August, my fingers can still fly over my laptop's keys, unaffected by the traffic jam in my nose.
"I bay be stuffy, ad by eyes bay be itchy ad red, but I cad still read ad write. That bakes it a good day."
Of all the things I dislike, grocery shopping tops my list. Given a choice between an hour at the market and, say, going to the dentist, I will choose the dentist. Heck, if it were possible, I’d find pregnant women and offer to endure labor and delivery in their stead if they would just do my grocery shopping.
First, grocery stores blow icy air year around. I’ve been warmer while shoveling snow. Can’t they come up with some other way to keep the produce fresh? And how about when they move things? For years my favorite cereal was in aisle two, second shelf from the bottom. Then one day—poof!—the cereal is gone, replaced by Meow Mix. Meow Mix may be lower in calories than Raisin Bran, but I bet it has half the fiber. I’m an old bagger. I need my fiber.
When I was 5-years-old I disobeyed my Grandma at the market and picked up a jar of pickles. Have you ever seen how far pickle juice spatters when the glass jar shatters? Really far, y’all. The grocery clerk who came to clean up the mess glared at me with devil eyes that glowed red. Is it any wonder I suffered trauma? (Grandma told Mama that she dropped the pickle jar. Mama raised her eyebrow at me and gave me the scary mom face, so I know she knew better, but she couldn’t spank Grandma and we both knew it. God bless Grandma.)
Wednesday is shopping day at our house because it is senior citizen discount day at the local Publix. No, buttercup, I don’t qualify (yet), but Papa does. He always asks the check-out clerk: “Did you give me my old guy’s discount?” They love him. They’d triple the discount for Papa if they could get away with it which may be why he actually enjoys grocery shopping.
Anyway, today was shopping day and when Papa and I ran out of room in our cart we decided to check out. Two lanes were lit, and one was a ten-items-or-less lane devoid of shoppers. The other lane bloomed with a queue of elderly people leaning against overflowing carts, eager for their senior discount. The grocery manager saw the traffic jam, called for backup, and directed us to the empty ten-items-or-less lane. Within thirty seconds, every person in the store with ten-items-or-less decided to check out. Behind me now were no less than six people glaring with the same devil red eyes as the clerk who cleaned up the pickle mess. Their look clearly said, “What part of ten-items-or-less do you not understand, you idiot? Ten or less! Ten or less!”
I mumbled an apology and blamed the grocery manager. “He told me to check out here!” They raised their brows and gave me the scary mom look alternately with the devil glare.
Grocery stores seem like benign places. They draw you in with bakery smells and the promise of big sales on potato chips, but I know the truth. And now, so do you.
