Monday, September 1, 2008

#003

Great job this week, guys! It was really awesome to see what a different take each of you had on the photo. Personally, I thought this weeks photo was kinda difficult because of how detailed it was.

The thing I appreciated about this week's winner was how descriptive she was with everything from the comics to the characters thoughts. I really felt like I could have been in the room with them all. Way to go!





Untitled
By: Natalie S.


The fair was in town. Sprinkles heard there were squirrels that could waterski. Sculptures of cows made entirely of butter. Cotton candy bigger than your head. Your head!
That morning she brought him his white loafers with the paper. "Ah yes, the fair," he said when he saw them. Sprinkles whisked her tail. "Just let me finish the paper and we'll see if we can't make it out."
Sprinkles lifted her head off the shag carpet. He was still on Mary Worth. There was still Rex Morgan MD, Prince Valiant, Gasoline Alley. And the crossword! She laid her head back down and sighed. Cows! Made entirely of butter!

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Little Things That Matter
By: John A.

Seventy-six year old Bart Schoenstein planned to spend the rest of his life on a ranch with his beloved wife Wilma until tragedy struck and changed his idyllic picture. He dreamed of living out west, so after retiring last year, they left their native Connecticut and headed for Manzanita, Arizona. Their move to the desert was just what the doctor ordered for Wilma. Or so they thought. Wilma's pancreatic cancer claimed her life 6 months ago, leaving Bart lonesome and deeply depressed. Dementia unfortunately destroyed his memories, his only solace now found in his beloved farm animals, most having free reign of his abode. Life continues on the ranch, without Wilma.


Misunderstood
By: Melissa F.

Misu was contemplating her fate. How had she wound up here with Mr. Edwardo and Camelle, the rag mop with bows in her hair? Wasn’t it just short months ago she’d been traveling the states with Bobo on her back? Now, every day Misu was expected to perform the tricks that Mr. Edwardo had taught her—roll over, beg, fetch. As Mr. Edwardo sat reading his paper with the rag mop beside him, Misu was expected to lie obediently at his feet. When would this near-sighted, agoraphobic millionaire realize he’d made a mistake and return Misu to the circus…or at least feed her some oats and not a dog biscuit?


No Pets Allowed
By Mark H.

When it came to interior decorating and pets, Carlo marched to the beat of a different drummer. Homer was his little buddy, and no “No Pets Allowed” rule would keep them apart. He felt a little guilty that Homer had to stay inside the small apartment out of sight, but in fact, Homer had grown accustomed to eating his apples and carrots in the dining room with Carlo. Negotiating the bathroom was a little tricky, but he was a very smart pony. “Don’t worry,” Carlo sighed, “one day you’ll be able to play outside again.” “No hurry,” Homer thought, “I really like the way this carpet tickles my belly.”


Untitled
By: Stephanie H.

juniper couldn't muster the energy to roam the fields as she once did, happy and free alongside jack. instead, she laid on the same shag carpet next to the same leather boat shoes she nuzzled with each day.
the house smelled stale. it was warm in its familiarity.
she hardly remembered the way the long grasses tickled her stomach near the ravine, or how the hose felt when they'd come back to the house sticky with damp earth. the locusts always showcased a full orchestra in late august.
the evenings were thick as life eked out its last moments before nightfall.
herman was just happy to have the company.


Oh Brutale Solitude
By: Kristopher H.

“Hmmmm. Esther won’t be back from her mother’s until Tuesday, and bras are half off at Penny’s. I’ll see what Merle is doing tonight.”

-Thoughts creep into my mind like this when I cut my bagel at an awkward angle, or when I take my coffee five minutes after two instead of at two precisely. This only happens when Esther leaves for extended trips-

“Maybe the sun isn’t the sun at all. Maybe the sun is the not-sun.”

“Perhaps Esther’s preference for light grays and creams mixed with brass ISN’T all the rage in Kansas.”

“Is that a pony at my feet?”

“Are you my pony?”

-Be my pony. Please-


For Sale
By: Randy H

After returning from his customary morning walk, Wilbur regrettably ignores the crossword puzzle and quickly skips to the classifieds in search for a piece of replacement furniture.

"Let me see," Wilbur anxiously sighs. "SLIGHTLY USED OAK BUREAU," "GLASS TABLE TOP- 1 OWNER," "SINGLE DOOR WARDROBE," he mumbles under his stale, early morning breath.

As his eyes scan the columns, Wilbur's mood suddenly improves. "This is it!" he says out loud.

"FOR SALE – Antique Peruvian Coffer. Perfect addition to a collection. Functions great as a coffee table or for general display. $50 OBO."

Wilbur's thoughts turn to his dysfunctional piece, "I wonder if the seller would consider a trade?"


Rectory Spectacle
By Linda Gail A.

While waiting for the annual pet blessing with Mutt and Prissy, I’m often struck at how inconceivable a room I find the parlor at the rectory. In a home where single men live, you wouldn’t expect to find tapestry, flowers, or shag carpet. I always pictured starker living quarters for my priests; at least masculine decor. But then again, I did come over rather late one night to confess and found Father Pat in a pink chiffon robe. Oddly, Mutt adores the shag rug, and every year he lies down in sheer bliss to await his heavenly blessing.

Ozzie & Harriet

By: Jennie O.

Circus was his way of life. Grateful man was he.Parents died when he was but a tiny lad of three.Long and lean like his papa, thankful for that gene.Became the stilted man and Ozzie was his name. Married the bearded lady who did constantly complainHoped in time his gratefulness would her tongue tame.“Lovely today “, said he. “Hot as heck” ,said she.“Beautiful rainbow!”-“Bad storm!”“Room’s just perfect.”-“ I’m too warm.”“Complaints might make you a little hoarse,”“For that you’d be grateful, of course!”Count your blessings don’t be aloofAs she began to nag there was a “POOF”Neigh Nag neigh nag

3 comments:

bshawise said...

"Cows! Made entirely of butter!"

Fantastic.

random blogger said...

i like the entry by stephanie h. she aproached the photo from the horse's perspective. i wonder if dogs and cats have similar thoughts, missing the ammendities of the outdoors while trying to adapt to what we humans enjoy inside.

Krist said...

Hmmm. This is really sweet. There are a couple themes that run through most of the responses. Who are you people anyway? I only know one of you, and he didn't respond this time. Maybe introductions would shed some light?

I'm Kris. I live in Columbus. I work at a bar at night and write business reviews during the day. I like kalamata olives and pickle juice. And hummus. And I just started a new blog about bananas. theblognana.blogspot.com