Welcome to my self-indulgent location for the stories (good and bad) that I can't prevent myself from writing. All comments and criticisms welcome. I post on Tuesdays and Saturdays.
Janet Reid's running a contest until about midnight tonight (time zone? not sure). The entry must be 115 word story beginning with "A monster-slaying governess, a vampire librarian, and a professorial zombie walk into a bar..."
The prizes?
Are we sensing a theme? Gee, I wonder why all these folks walk into the bar together.
Well, who doesn't love Zombies and Vampires and Slayers, oh my? So, I thought I'd give it a shot. I'm not in love with what I wrote, but... *shrug* I had to try.
For your entertainment:
A monster-slaying governess, a vampire librarian, and a professorial zombie walk into a bar, taking a booth by the door.
The governess sipped her wine. “I can’t allow you to pursue your plan.”
Bored, the librarian stirred her bloody Mary—extra bloody—with the finger skewer, an olive stuck to the nail.
With a slurp of braiña colada, the zombie replied, “Aw, loosen up Janey-baby. When we work together, we eat half the people. We’re economizing.”
“I don’t know why you come along,” the librarian said, “when all you do is criticize.”
“It’s my job to protect…” The slayer slumped over.
“Wow.” The zombie checked her watch. “That took forever.”
It's been a couple of weeks since I've been able to get my patootie in gear for the drabble challenge over at the Burrow Blog, but I decided I should try again this week.
Hoping her own wasn’t trembling, she took the man’s hand. Gentlemanly he was, or so he carried himself before her father. His chivalrous demeanor impressed her, but his personality remained a mystery. The unknown waited for her at the end of the journey to her gentleman’s land.
Her recent marriage to this mysterious foreigner brought vast wealth to her family, allowing her father to travel, increasing his clients, and her sister to receive the medical treatment she needed. The benefits far outweighed her fears. For the love of her family, she continued on her journey.
This summer I've been taking intensive Macedonian (it's Slavic, not Greek, I promise). A couple of weeks ago our instructor was trying to find videos on YouTube to show us how one of the national dishes of Macedonia—burek—is made. It's pretty crazy, kind of like stretching unbreakable silly dough and then stuffing it with meat!
While we searched, we also came across this:
How AWESOME is it that Ali En—a Macedonian singer/rapper that my instructor has never heard of—dedicated an entire song to one food? And not just any food. I'm mean, we're not just talking about bread here. It's a national dish, full of patriotic pride. I can't really think of anything comparable for the US (apple pie, maybe?), but it would be like writing a song to shepherd's pie in Ireland, or mole in Mexico, or borshch in Russia.
The only other remotely ode-like song I can think of (help me out here, folks) is That's Amore, but that should hardly count because 1) it's about love, not food; 2) it references lots of different foods, not just one exalted dish; and 3) no one involved in the creation of the song was Italian. While number 3 shouldn't make-or-break it, 1 and 2 do.
So, in honor of national foods, I have decided to dedicate the following Drabble (a story of exactly 100 words) to... the Polish Pierogi.
Pierogi!
Oh, pierogi!
How I adore the smell of thee!
Let me count the ways
In which your potato filling
Oozes
Upon my plate and tongue,
Or your sweet cheese stuffing
Slides down my throat
Like flower petals
Along my skin,
Or your ground meat
…oh, well, that generally makes me sick…
All topped with butter and
Smalec** and
Thick sour cream.
Or how about your sweet, fruity dessert-self
Filled with strawberries,
Raspberries,
Blackberries?
A sprinkle of sugar makes you
Perfect
For my digestion.
Oh, most versatile and wondrous pierogi!
Your dough is so simple
And yet you taste so extraordinary!
**In this case, smalec is crispy, fried pork fat. Think of tiny, chopped bacon bits without the meat part.
What songs/poems/stories do you know of that are dedicated to a particular food? Is there a food you would like to pay tribute to? Feel free in the comments section :)
As mentioned yesterday, the folks over at the Burrow are starting a weekly Drabble contest (write a story of exactly 100 words based on a given picture and win the glory of being the Burrow's coolest groupie... oh, and they'll post it next week to encourage all the other groupies toward jealousy and better writing**).
**Disclaimer: my sarcastic words, not theirs. And all sarcasm is due to the excitement of having a challenging writing prompt.
PS--This one was hard for me. Not sure why.
Without further ado:
Conversation - Camille Pissarro
“Are you sure you need to leave?”
“I am.”
“But think of how it will affect mother.”
“She’ll be upset, I know. But I won’t be gone forever.”
“What about father?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“He only did it because he loves you.”
“I know.”
“You’re really going to abandon Donald?”
“I don’t love him.”
“But everything’s arranged.”
“I know.”
“What should I tell him?”
“Anything you want.”
“Should I say you’re sorry?”
“I’m not.”
“But I could tell him…”
“No.”
“And what about me? Will you miss me?”
“Of course.”
“I love you, sissy.”
“I love you, too. Goodbye, Ginger.”
The inspiration for this post is brought to you today by the Burrowers, the letter D, and the number 100.
I've never tried anything like this before. My personal assignment: write a Drabble (a story of exactly 100 words) based on the picture below. Tomorrow the Burrowers will be posting another picture for a follower writing-challenge, so I thought I would give it a test run.
You were there before I was awake, but I felt your presence even in my dreams. You permeated my every pore until I could smell you, feel you, taste you as if you were dancing in my dream yourself.
“Honey?”
I roll over, longing for this sweet fantasy to envelope me again. I seek your deep caramel beauty in my sleepy yearning.
“Dear?”
Begrudgingly opening my eyes, I sit up. I gaze at the white surrounding your intense darkness. How is it possible that something this sensual is truly mine?
