110words

Elvis Has Left The Building

2009-07-04T09:21:00.000-07:00

Nearly a 12 months ago, Brad Wise had a vision of creating a writing experiment where writers could join together and not only write good material, but read other bloggers entries therefore pushing themselves creatively. In August of 2008, 110words.com was launched. While there were several prompts that rotated with each week's photo, one always remained the same - the entry must be 110words or less. Not only would that be short enough to keep other readers attention, but it also challenged the writer to maintain some sense of time and detail.

Brad trusted me enough to come aboard as administer in the beginning and it's been a great journey for me to not only read each entry but several bloggers challenged me as a writer myself.

But it appears it is time to say goodbye. 110words has run a good course, but I believe the excitement of creating something weekly (and then bi-weekly) has worn off. Fewer and fewer writers submit each week and with the lazy days of summer in full swing, I'm afraid that 110words will soon have no entries.

So we're shutting it down. 110words has run a great course and Brad and I are very proud of each of you for stepping out on a limb and submitting entries for the whole world to read. You have pushed yourselves as writers and done a tremendous job. Thanks for playing along.

The 110words Administrators,

Jenny Stambaugh and Brad Wise

ps- Feel free to continue following Brad's blog at http://bshawise.blogspot.com or Jenny's at http://intertwiningemotions.blogspot.com

In The News

2009-07-04T08:51:00.000-07:00

We wanted to try something different this time around with the picture. Instead of just picking a random photo to write about, we decided to choose a photo that was relevant to that particular week's news. Therefore, "In the News" was born. The photo above was taken from the Fox New website about telemarketing calls. We asked our bloggers to put their spin on what they thought the news story was about.

Monster Government
By: Randy H.

In our ‘Monster Government’ segment tonight we have learned that automotive dealerships are advancing the ‘Clunkers for Cash’ legislation way over the limits of the recently passed legislation. Dealers are getting aggressive offering, via pre-recorded telephone call, $4500 vouchers for all sales, ignoring the fuel efficiency provision all together. The lots are so full that dealers are fighting for their lives knowing that if sales continue at this slow pace franchises could be eliminated—not from bankruptcy, mind you, but by a government that doesn’t take ‘No’ for an answer. Desperation from an already uncertain auto industry makes everyone skittish. Nothing like a government take over to calm the storm.

Exclusive
By: Linda Gail A.

Our top story tonight on Fox News exposes the high pressure sales tactics used by Best Chance Auto Warranty Corporation. It appears that salespersons call individuals based upon a list provided by the bureau of labor and statistics and badger them into buying their extended warranty product making promises that the warrant covers absolutely any kind of breakdown. It is only when consumers take their vehicles into auto repair shops that they discover they have been conned. When consumers call the 800 number they get a recording of someone laughing. The attorney general is currently conducting an investigation, and Fox News will keep you posted as updates occur.

Poor Punjab
By: Jerry H.

Punjab Viceroy Patel sat at his workstation underneath the ominous cloud of unfiltered cigarette smoke. He distractedly thanked the barista for his coffee, placed his earphones, and watched the monitor scroll through 218,364 phone numbers. He practiced his script, “Hello I am Jim Smith from Dubuque Iowa.” The word Iowa was the only one that gave him trouble and yesterday’s screaming session from his supervisor still injured his soul. “President Obama tasked me in asking you to help re-elect him, don’t vote for that SL$& Sarah Palin! Punjab didn’t notice and would not have known the 907 area codes that was his target today would cause him to change history.

Closing Out The 3 Week Series On Genres

2009-06-15T09:44:00.001-07:00

The final installment of our 3 week series on genres was "Politically Correct". I was a little disappointed about the amount of stories sent in this time - I thought P.C. could be the easiest to tackle. However, it was very interesting to see how each of the writers below took a different angle with how they viewed being politically correct. I thought that was so unique and cool.

Enjoy!

Midgets, Miners, & Misery
By: Randy H.

Dear Mother,

I hope this letter finds you well as I myself am feeling ill. Don’t worry; I’m fine, really. It’s just the critics, they are overwhelming these days. I’ve caused quite a stir with my ‘Snow White’ creation. The ‘Little People’, corrected as I am, are seeking legislative asylum due simply to how they were referred. Those in the mining community are outraged claiming they were depicted erroneously as ignorant, naive laborers. I’ve enclosed a copy of the title tune to my new feature. Hopefully ‘When You Wish upon a Star’ will quiet the politically correct crowd. Not catching any flak from the children. Go figure.

With love,
Walt

Upright Biped
By: Linda Gail A.

We loosely call our creator Walt, but in truth he is so much more. He is technically speaking a homo-sapiens, an anthropoid, and an upright biped but he’s commonly known as human. Walt is the author, the originator, the generator, the designer of who we are. We are animated genius if we do say so. We are not the vermin that many of our kind are referred to as. We have spirits. We have souls. We have personalities. We matter; and we demand to be treated as those with rights! And to further our cause we have created a foundation called ACE: Animated Characters for Equality.

Walt Missed James
By: Jerry H.

Walt missed James. Of all of Walt’s incredible creations James’s work on the screen gave him the most satisfaction. That movie was the first of its kind, mired in controversy, nervous investors, but Walt believed, and his beliefs, his dreams had a way of becoming reality. James was not allowed to attend the festivities of the opening. Walt said “James Baskett was the best actor I believe, to be discovered in years.” Now do to sins that have never healed James’ portrayal of Uncle Remus would not be seen by generations of children and that sadden Walt, because he believed in the world of tomorrow, where color didn’t matter.

Juicer: Zach's still dreamy

2009-06-11T13:03:00.001-07:00

Week 2 of 3 in Developing Genres

2009-05-31T16:35:00.001-07:00

This is week 2 out of 3 in our series on developing genres. The first week we tackled Western's and this week we worked on creating a Sci Fi story. It was very interesting to see how the writers took the same photo and created some very diverse stories.

One writer in particular e-mailed me something with his entry. It basically said, "Sci-Fi writing is not really my thing. It was a major stretch.... "To that I say, BRAVO!!!! The point of 110words is not to find the world's greatest writer, it's to help you grow. We go thru exercises like the 3 weeks of genre development to push you. We want you to be stretched - it helps you become a better and more creative writer. So what, if it sucks. Try again. Try something different. The possibilities are endless. So next time you read this blog or receive a photo in your inbox, don't think, "I can't do this." Think "What can I do with this?" and then push yourself.

Life after College
By: Josh S.

Chon’s mother did not understand why his senior picture had to look so dramatic. She also did not understand why he insisted on wearing his bluetooth. Chon was all set to graduate at the top of his class from the University of Neptune. He was going to use his senior picture in his portfolio. He completed college with a degree in Earth Reality Television Studies. After graduation, Chon is going to take a full time position as a reality star on planet Earth in the new TV series “Dancing with the Star Wars characters”. He landed this role after he failed his audition for “So Spock thinks he can dance”.

It Hurt
By: Jerry H.

It hurt. NxLie’s chest felt as if a Snarlt with its raptor claws and feline incisors had tore his torso. He endured the interrogation; his pain was more from his failure than injury. They are The Chosen yet they refuse to believe. Refusal because we, like all of the civilizations that never ate the fruit, have no shame that requires us to cover our bodies. The Fellowship approaches. They must be made to understand; they are The Chosen! They possess the authority to defeat The Fellowship before all is devoured and destroyed. The Chosen have a history of not believing saviors until after they’re murdered. Sacrifice? NxLie cried. It hurt.

Longing
By: TresK

“Merde!” Jardin muttered, reverting to his mother tongue. Things had gone from bad to worse to wretched all too fast.

While the larger, harder part of his brain furiously calculated time-zap vectors the smaller, softer part kept thinking of Kaarin. He’d acted rashly, that much he’d admit, but hadn’t she started it? She’d sent him back without calibrating the stopping watch. Their argument, when he finally returned, had simply pushed things too far.

He didn’t want “I’ll show you reckless!” to be his last words, but it wasn’t looking good. The time-plasma was heating up, turning green. Too green, too fast.

Jardin only hoped Kaarin hadn’t tried to follow.

[X-thoo-shush]
By: Randy H.

I am called Xthousious and I come from the city of Dark Forms. By my words my memory has returned but my strength fails. The Worm Lords have confounded me here. This place is cold and I feel a force within it; a shield of sorts, not elemental but spiritual. An evil presence looms here. I must depart at once. I can hear the waves of motion beyond this corridor but I am unable to pierce the threshold. Something—this presence—is preventing my advance. It’s dominion I cannot break. Telepathic signals may reach my comrades in time; for rescue, before the hemorrhaging of the sun. Focus I must.

Reaching Deep
By: Linda Gail A.

On an unnamed planet far in the galaxy, surrounded by people known as Nubnub, I found myself captured. Their torture technique was simple: immobilize the enemy with a green gamma ray that causes pain with movement. But move I must. I’ve got to return to my interplanetary schooner, and be off this planet before the new moon because it’s scheduled for demolition. It’s on a collision course with my home planet, Zarzar where my family lives. I must reach deep and overcome the pain. It’s time to go. I press the sensor implanted above my ear signaling my need for rescue. Within moments I’m freed and on my way home.

Presto: pixar short film

2009-05-28T10:39:00.001-07:00

Week 1 of a Three Week Series on Genres - The Western

2009-05-17T17:46:00.000-07:00

This is Week 1 of a three week series on Genres. Each week the subscribers are given the task of creating a story based off of the photo given (or they can use one of their choosing), however, it must be 110 words or less, it is due by 11am 2 weeks from the date given. In this series, 110words is trying to have writers focus more on the genre itself. Most of the writings we receive are typically not genre specific. We want to help push each writer creatively to help mold them into a better writer in general. We got some great stories back this week based off of our genre of Westerns. After reading the stories below, you'll see some excellent examples of transporting the reader into your story. It's not just about the saying "We are in a Western." How does it smell in the barn? What words/phrases do the characters use? Tell me about location. What is it made of? Does the wood creak at night?

Enjoy!

Outlaws
By: Mark H.

Billy leaned against the weathered beams of the old barn and kept his eyes riveted on the horizon. “You gonna watch with me or yap at them mangy furballs all day, Thomas?”

“Only need one eye to see ‘em comin’, Billy, and looks like you got two good ones. ‘Sides, between us we got the two fastest guns in these parts. What’re you so worried about?”

“Ain’t worried, just ain’t taking any chances. You know Miss Ellie’s give us jobs for 10 years now. I ain’t lettin’ that stinkin’ band of outlaws do anything to hurt that good woman.

“Ok Billy – look ahead there – time to earn our pay.”

New Law
By: Linda Gail A.

“This sure do beat the cow tipping we did last week,” Leroy drawls. “Now we’re the law in this here town, and we can arrest anyone who acts up. Course, we might need to do like Sheriff Monroe did for us. We deputize the two biggest rascals and put them in charge.”

“I’m not sure who was more surprised; us or the town, when they realized we were now the law,” Stern offers.

“We’ll be fine as long as we leave Hank’s boys alone,” Leroy sagely advises.

“They run the largest still in the county,” Stern protests.

“Sounds like deputizing time.”

“Maybe so.”

Dusty on Tuesday
By: TresK3

It was Dusty on Tuesday. It was always Dusty on Tuesday. A guy works hard on the ranch all day, then he has to put up with this? Not for the first time, we offered to help. We could just shoot the calf and be done with it. But no, Dusty had to do it himself, like some actor cowboy from the moving-picture shows. Some people are just that way, no matter who suffers. Tomorrow would be Wednesday and Lefty would cook and we’d eat on time. We’d eat on time all week… until next Tuesday.

Watchful Silence
By: Deb Freitag

“Whaddya see Beelzbub?” said Brooks. He didn’t expect an answer. But he sure wished he knew. Animals sensed danger before humans. Even he knew that. Beelzbub was sniffing the air and staring up at the cliffs across the plain. Whoever stole the horses a fortnight ago was probably coming back for them. They were as ready as could be. No horses. No food. Bastards even filled in the well and killed the dogs. But why? Brooks broke the silence again and asked Simon, “Why did they…” But Simon hushed him saying urgently, “Shush ol’ fool. They’re scoutin’ us now. Watch the shadows on the ridge and get your rifle ready…”

By Government Regulation Every Western Must Have A Character Named Slim
By: Jerry H.

Monroe squinted and exclaimed “That’s them Cat rustlers Slim!”

“Yaep.”

“Member them Yankee cat rustlers back in 1863, da war for our independence.”

“Yaep.”

“Gave them loads of buckshot, we sure did.”

“Yaep.”

“Back East in Chicamungie I recall.”

“Yaep.”

Monroe looked down, “Fluffy, Ya ready?”

“Meow”

“Penelope Ya ready girl?”

“Meowww.”

Monroe and Slim vigilantly and skillfully checked their weapons. Monroe spit a wad of chew on the ground. It oozed it’s substance like an ice cube melts in the sun.

“Meow!”

“Sorry Penelope. I’m always nervous when cat rustlers are coming.”

Fluffy observed, “Meow, meow, meow memeow,”

“Yaep.”

The Strike
By: Josh S.

“Is that all they do all day Carl?”

“What are you talking about Willie?”

“They just walk around, sit down, and look around at everything all day long.”

“What is wrong with that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems kind of pointless”

“How else are they supposed to keep the mice out of the barn?”

“Well they could give us our pension benefits and the health care options we asked for then we could come off of our strike and lend a hand.”

“I don’t think they will budge Willie, I think they actually enjoy being lazy.”

“Well, at least we don’t need guns to kill mice like halfwitted humans”

Moonshine Whiskey
By: Randy H.

“Jeb, would you stop messin’ with that damn cat? You’re makin’ me nervous,” shouted DeWitt.

“I’m just tryin’ to make a friend, maybe somethin’ you should be doin’,” Jeb replied.

“You told me you would help me stand guard against those county bastards that want to shut down grandpa’s still. This still has been producin’ for ages and I ain’t about to back down. You with me or not?,” asked DeWitt.

“I’m here ain’t I?,” responded Jeb. “You didn’t tell me I’d have to stand guard with my rifle. Besides, I’m supposed to be hayridin’ with Miss Annie.”

“Chasin’ felines is about all your good for anyway,” bemoaned DeWitt.

Longing For Her Return (A Western)
By: Lindsey D.

Stringbean stared off into the distance, the barrel of his gun set snug into is thigh, longing for her return. He felt the pulsating stress of the early morning ride on his inner thighs and hoped to have another. It was she who had finally made this gangly, awkward cowboy feel like a real man; in control of each and every move.
The bright sun reflected off of the bare field exhibiting the remnants of the season’s harvest. He squinted, strained, searched. He spotted her strutting toward him, her long legs stretching elegantly with each step. A smile crept across his face.
“That goddamn horse is back,” Old Jim grunted.

Juicer: Seth Godin on Tribes

2009-05-14T14:56:00.000-07:00

Watch here.

028

2009-03-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

Regarding the survey that was available a few weeks ago for you to take about 110words, Brad and I have reviewed the results and you will see some changes being made in a few weeks. Thank you for taking your time to complete the survey and to take part in 110words!!!

This week's prompt was: * Prompt - This cat just got a major break and will star in the new Muppet Movie. Tell me about the character the cat will play in the movie and what the cat did to land the part. Great job, Josh!

The Replacement
By: Josh S.

Filming for the new muppet movie was starting in April. Jim Henson got an email from Animal’s agent saying that Animal was not able to do the film due to an elbow injury from drumming. That gave Jim one day to find a replacement. That night he was scheduled to see a band play in Manhattan. Kermit and Miss Piggy had invited him for a night out before starting production. Jim called them to cancel, but they would not accept no for an answer. So he went to satisfy their egos, and there he found Beastie, a great drummer, a freelance actor, and an attitude crazy enough to replace Animal.

Juicer: Faux Nostalgia

2009-03-26T11:24:00.000-07:00

This guy's dry sense of humor is killer. I don't know how yet, but we're going to do a 110words writing experiment based on the different types of work he does i.e. faux nostalgia. It's long but it's good. Enjoy.

#027

2009-03-23T09:52:00.000-07:00

I found this gem on snopes.com. That bunny is for real, ya'll. Seriously. Wow.

Okay, so this past week, the writers had three prompts to guide them:
1) Must be 110 words or less
2) Must be in by 11am today
3) How did the bunny and the man holding the bunny meet? (They can't be owner/pet)

Here's the magic happened:

Eddie Rabbit Alter-Ego
By: Randy H.

Dewey’s was slow, so slow that the girls bailed before the last set. The smoke was thicker than usual and curiously sweet. Teddy felt sick and the sweat was a squall. He needed the money so he swallowed one last shot and set his pick. Next thing he knew, he was singing songs he’d never sung before. He closed the bar with “Every Which Way but Loose” but had no idea why. Ironic? Yea, his head was pounding. Dude in the front asked for a photo and autograph; wrapped his arm around him and grinned. The lights went out and that is all Teddy could remember.

George and Bugs
By: Josh S.

George met Bugs at the annual Holtville Carrot Festival. George first saw Bugs in the Carrot Festival parade as one of the largest rabbits to win the carrot eating contest. Later George ran into Bugs at the Best Western indoor pool where he struck up a conversation about why his parents named him Bugs. George remembers Bugs responding that his parents weren’t very creative. Their choices were either Bugs or Roger. They chose Bugs, and saved the name Roger for his younger brother. That was the beginning of George and Bugs’ friendship. Every year since, they have stayed at the same Best Western with connecting rooms for the Carrot Festival.

Caught Ya!
By Linda Gail A.

At first I thought I was losing my mind. Food was missing; specifically my chocolate. I laid a trap. I put chocolate cream eggs in a bowl on the counter. Then I sprinkled flour on the floor. I left the room and I waited. The noises came, and I turned on the lights. Sure enough, the eggs were gone, and there were huge tracks. I grabbed my cane and followed them outside and under my porch. There two eyes glimmered back at me. It took time and many more chocolate eggs, but soon I had my hands on fur. And to my surprise I pulled out a giant bunny.

Big Bunny
By Deb Freitag

“‘Twas the luck o’ the Irish on that day, I’ll tell ya tha’,’” remarked Pauly as he donned his cap. “As you know, I’d had a might strong gamin’ streak in me since way back.” His quickening step revealed his excitement. “I’d lifted up a bit of a prayer t’my ever present

God: “Lord, y’know I’ve overspent on my gamin’, so forgive me and bring on the luck today.”

Well, as I tossed out the dice I yelled, “‘Big Money, Big Money,’ and as luck would have it I blurted ‘Big Bunny’ the third time. And dontcha just know that I lost at the dice but won the rabbit raffle!”

Juicer: 100 quotes 100 numbers

2009-03-19T05:26:00.001-07:00

Juicer: Have You Seen This Yet?

2009-03-12T11:09:00.000-07:00

If by some chance you haven't seen this yet.... you're welcome.

Also, please fill out the 110words survey. Your input is valued.

We Want You!

2009-03-09T17:45:00.000-07:00

If you've been around 110words for a while, click on this link and take our fun survey. It only takes about 3 to 5 minutes and will take the place of a writing assignment for this week.

Click Here to take survey

Juicer: David After Divorce

2009-03-05T13:47:00.000-08:00

I'm sure by now you've seen this David after Dentist phenomenon. Same story different players. Kind of fascinating.

The original.

Chad Vader.

#026

2009-03-01T19:30:00.000-08:00

Honestly, what is not to love about this photo?

Week #026 and 'Big Elephants' as I like to call this picture, wrap up our 3 week series on character devolpment. If you're new to 110words or simply haven't read the blog in a while, our writers were prompted to connect the last 3 weeks worth of photos and intwine each photo with the original character they created in week 1. It was just simply the idea of taking taking the same character along for different rides.

I hope the writers enjoyed writing them as much as you all enjoy reading them.

A Conversation
By: Josh S.

“Hey there Crimson Tidette. What up?”

“Why are you wearing yellow rubber pants?”

“I’m a fisherman, except today I am a fisher of women. I like your shirt.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that lame line. Being a “fiisher of women”, you should get your eyes checked because this ain’t no shirt honey.”

“Oh I see”

“Get lost pal, I’m only here to hang out with real Alabama fans.”

“I am a fan, in fact, I could be arrested for even being here. Didn’t you hear about my Alabama fishing boat?”

“No way, you’re that crazy Geoff guy who Alabama has a restraining order against?”

“In the flesh baby”

Maude
By: Linda Gail A.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw her. I, Willie Worthington, was speechless. She was the epitome of everything a good woman should be: a Crimson Tide fan that wasn’t afraid to wear her support out for all to see. I found out from my buddies that her name was Maude. I also found out she was married to the meanest cuss this side of the Mississippi river. I never approached Maude. But my eyes never strayed far from where she was. I came in off the lake to attend the final game of the season. I didn’t see a single play of that game.

Mom
By: Jerry H.

“Mom” Leroy exclaimed as he embraced his mother in a huge hug. Leroy’s daughter Tammilou groaned, not at her grandmother’s clothing (Tammilou was wearing the same outfit), but that her dad was embarrassing her with his enthusiasm.

“Son I am so proud of you, all that money you gave to the school that made the Crimson Tide so good they’re in the Super Bowl.”
Leroy shrugged, his mother continued.” They fixed up your luxury box the way you wanted it, with a big pond, and a surprise from home.”

Leroy’s face exploded in delight pouring even more embarrassment on Tammilou. “The fishin’ chair?”

“Yes”

Leroy jumped and shouted with joy.

Painted Memory
By: Randy H.

“I don’t think Herb saw me”, said Kenny to himself, gasping for air after running down the ridge as fast as he could.

Catching his breath, Kenny cranked the motor to his craft and headed toward the middle of the lake. With the high sky and a stiff breeze, Kenny’s mind wondered, remembering the company he kept on Saturday afternoons. Pulling an old photograph from his pocket, he thought of his beloved mother. Kenny was just a teenager when it was taken. It was the only game they ever attended in person.

Pushing a tear away, Kenny cried, “I know you’re up there watchin’ mama. I miss ya.”

"Crazy Dorene"
By: Russ B.

It had been a year since Festus’ disappearance on Ellyfnat Lake... and his wife, Dorene (she prefers “widow”) had gone quite mad.

Though most believe Festus had “run-off” with another, Dorene is convinced ellyfants got him.
“I seen da blud on da water... but i kant call it dat. I call it crinsum tide. It helps me not be sad when I hear dat blud tune.”

Because of Dorene’s indiscretions, just two days after the Festus disappearance, townsfolk require her to wear the letter “A” on her clothing.

She is also required to carry a bag of Potpourri (she thinks it keeps away the ellyfants)
...but it wasn’t working.

Jennie Lou
By: Mary F.

It was sure nice of JennieLou to send me her picture. I ain’t seen her since Ma died. She’s a real Alabama woman like Ma, and her hubby’s darling. “Always wanted a woman with meat on the bones.” he used to say. “She’s built for lovin.” Sure hope they hang together till death like Pa and Ma did.

Bubba, and me and JennieLou – we’ll still mournin Ma’s passing. She died so quick. Hit by a drunk driver. Pa went off the deep end then and got suckered into marrying that yankee.

It’s like we’re orphans now, me and Bubba and JennieLou. Makes me cry every time I think about it.

Juicer

2009-02-26T09:54:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHrl6lMkYwo

Even though it's an advertisement, the writers took a great approach to what could have been a totally crappy boring statement.

#025

2009-02-23T17:47:00.000-08:00

By chance, if you have just stumbled across this writing experiment, let me catch you up to speed... A bunch of us goofy writers get together once a week and write short fiction bits based off of a picture that is sent out the week prior. It has to be 110 words or less and sometimes there are prompts. You've caught us in week #2 of a 3 week series on character devolpment. The pictures change, but each person must work at devolping the main character from week #1 and tieing them into week #2's photo. And so on and so forth. So take a gander and feel free to drop some comments.

Other Plans
By: Randy H.

Satisfied that Kenny was sober, the warden left. Now, Kenny had just enough time before kickoff to grab a bag of pork rinds and his 'Bama foam finger. As he headed up the ridge, he noticed his cousin Herb and a few others, that he had not laid eyes on before, had gathered out in front of his trailer. Remembering that the revival meetin' was goin' on, Kenny decided to go with what he already had-half of an oatmeal cream pie and a plug of Levi Garrett. He had to hurry though to get back down the hill before Herb caught sight of him. Today football was his religion.

Untitled
By: Scott D.

"It could have been one of Jerry’s proudest moments. He stood in deep thought and awe at the fact that his idea had finally come to fruition. To see so many others enjoying the festivities like the Squirrel Shoot and the Toilet Seat Ring Toss was a bit overwhelming. The only thing that made this day completely unforgettable was the completely liberating feeling of vinyl, albeit loose-fitting, against his skin on such a sublime summer afternoon."

Moving On
By: Josh S.

Since Geoff's fishing boat was confisgated last week, Geoff had to adapt his fishing techniques by purchasing rubber pants overalls at the local gas station. He realized that they would be perfect expanding his ability to get deeper in the water without having a boat. Part of Geoff's probation agreement from the "boat incident" was that he was not allowed to wear any Alabama clothing. The University took out a restraining order against Geoff for negative publicity after the picture of his boat made the font page of the newspaper. This morning Geoff traded a blue gill for a Coors Light. Representatives from Coors had "no comment" on the photo.

Last Witness
By Stephen T.

We caught up with Jerald Furnbee, cousin of Roscoe Furnbee who went missing last summer in search of a creature believed to be the inspiration for the Arkansas Crimson Tide elephant mascot.

“I knew I’d be getting’ questions at this family reunion but I don’t know too much. I told him not to go out there. I pushed his boat 20 feet out and that’s the last I seen uh him. Brave kid but kinda slow. He could be anywhere.”

Jerald has worn the waiters he had on that day since his cousin went missing as a memorial.

“I’ll I got is Coors Light to keep from goin’ crazy.”

Love thy cousin ?
By: John A.

As luck would have it, ordinarily good natured Earl got picked to help his cousin Larry out of a tight spot out on the water. And it doesn't take much to set him off when it comes to Larry. His shenanigans gripe Earl to no end. Poor Earl somehow always gets the short end of the stick. "Leave it to Larry to get hisself all tangled up in fishin' line, doggone idjit. I think I'll knock the far outta him" squawked Earl as he gazed up and down the lakeshore, looking for Larry's whereabouts. "Well, HAIL FAR ! I don't see 'em no where. The damn fool. Well, he can just wait. I'm gonna finish this beer first."

Upgrade
By: Linda Gail A.

When I first started fishing, I rigged up a lawn chair on a small raft complete with steering capabilities. Now, I’m older and I’ve upgraded my ride. I found what used to be a porch of a camping cabin, and converted it. Now it’s my raft, complete with shade from the sun. Fishing has never been sweeter. The only problem is that I need help from friends to launch me, and then they want to come along. But it’s cool. You can’t be a loner forever. And besides, they usually bring food along!

Bubba’s brother
By: Mary F.

That’s Bubba for you –left me holding the bag. Pa told us he’d cut us out of his will if we didn’t start acting nice to his new wife’s relatives. So now I’m stuck in the middle of these city slickers. I’ll bet anything Budda is sittin on that fishing chair in the middle of the lake having a beer.
And that ain’t the half of it – he’ll get by with it. Wouldn’t be surprised if Pa cut me out of the will and gave Bubba my share. His new wife will probably say I wasn’t nice to these freaks. A fella can’t win for losing.

“Boating Accident”
By: Russ B.

“Ah don know whut al do wif out my cuz, Festus”
Billy-Bob was beside himself with a grief that went deeper than his best waders.

For two days teams of relatives scoured “Ellyfant” Lake to try to find some trace of the beloved entrepreneur, yachtsman, and cousin to all... Festus.

“Ah blame muh self. Ah nevr shudda souped dat motor up. Festus cuddn’t handle fas cars or wimmin. Guess wull hafta add waterkraft to dat list.”

“Cudda ben a bird strike. We had dat lake cuvverd wif decoys ta keep da ellyfants herded.”

Spirits remained high... (the beer was really cold!) It was destined to become an annual event.

Back Home Music
By: Jerry H.

Leroy swallowed a cold one allowing the liquid to explode in his stomach like the splash his kids make jumping into the pool. He hadn’t been back home since his video for American-Inventors won, not because of his fishin’ chair, but how he combined coal and foam, that was now being used from housing to space shuttles. It felt good to be out of suits, just relax and be himself. He laughed at the challenge of his kids and Bettylou as they pumped out a Habitat for Humanity house on her parent’s old farm. The blue grass music and dancing sombered him. He softly cried. His dad would’ve been proud.

#024

2009-02-16T17:51:00.000-08:00

Alrighty, so we here at 110words decided to try something a little different. As I mentioned in last week's blog, we no longer are focusing on a "winning entry". Everyone's stories are good and everyone can glean something from each entry. Also, for 3 weeks we will be focusing on character devolpment. We began the process during week #024 using this photo. Whatever character was devolped out of the photo you see above, is the character each writer must stick with for week's #025 and #026. The photo's will change - the main character will not. It's not too late to get in on the fun, just e-mail me at the110experiment@yahoo.com and I'll send you the photos....

As for week #024's gems....

Bama Man
By: Stephen T.

“I am searchin’ for answers, ya know, like that DaVinchi Code guy. I just don’t got any money for fancy equipment.” Roscoe Furnbee, 28-year old Alabama football fan, longs to discover the greatest mystery of his people, the Crimson Hippo. The meaning behind the Crimson Tide’s mysterious elephant remains a mystery to some. Roscoe says he knows the answer.

“Last summer, me and my cousin Daryl was out here fishin’ when we saw this big, red thing come up outta the water. My daddy told me that in 1929, Coach Wade was out here drinkin’ tryin’ to clear his mind when he saw it.”

“I will find that red monster.”

Alabama Pride
By: Josh S.

In this photo Geoff is explaining to the local authorities his reasoning for turning a chair into a fishing boat and using it to fish in the lake. Geoff was looking for sympathy telling the cops that he needed extra money so he can buy tickets to the next Alabama football game. The cops tried to explain to Geoff that there were no fish in this lake, and that swimming let alone fishing from a lawn chair boat was illegal and dangerous. Geoff told them that the gas station owner said he would give Geoff five dollars for every fish he brought back from the lake. Joke was on Geoff.

Dem Mountains They Dream, They Dream
By: Jerry H.

Leroy dreamed of life beyond these Lookout Mountains. As he set up the video camera he ‘borrowed’ from the Wal-Mart down in Huntsville his insides shook like his uncle Leroy during his biannual detox sessions. He wanted to send a video to that American Inventors TV program to show his personal fishing chair device. Even though his Dad screamed that working the mines wasn’t so bad it’ll keep you in money and Betty Lou just laughed at his silliness, Leroy had moving pictures in his head that he would only see for real with some cash and education; no coal mine would get him that, and Betty Lou deserved more.

Idle Living
By Linda Gail A.

Wentworth Leroy Worthington III was a disappointment to his father and grandfather. Willie, as his friends called him, loved nothing more than two things – The University of Alabama and good old fashioned fly fishing. And since he inherited enough that he’d never need to work if he lived a frugal life, that’s what he aimed to do. A log cabin on the lake, a homemade motorized raft and a radio tuned to the Crimson Tide’s games, and Willie was set for life as he saw it. Forget high society. Forget dating women that only want him to get a job. This is the life!

Roll Tide
By: Randy H.

"Yep, we'll go right out there a ways to get the best signal," Kenny explained to the game warden, who wondered about the contraption he had seen motoring around the lake.

Kenny wasn't one for long drives or large crowds but he loved his Crimson Tide football. Instead of traditional tail gating, Kenny enjoyed listening every Saturday on his FM dial. A scratchy, snowy broadcast was all he was able to get from his trailer tucked beneath the densely wooded ridge.

"You been drinkin'?", questioned the warden.

"No sir," replied Kenny. "Neither the Lord or the extre weight on these insulation panels could stand it." "Plus it's dangerous."

Ellyfants
By: Russ B.

“Jist twenny-five dollers, an a’ll take ya out wher de ellyfants are.”

Before I could escape, The Huckster had me in his spell.

“Now `yall don wurry bout dem ellyfants attackin. Ellyfants are a scared a ducks. An I got all deese decoys to keep `em away.”

How far would he go with this pitch? I had to hear more.

“An if dat ain’t enuff, me `n cousin Billy-Bob wired this motor to outrun anythin’ on dis lake.”

Even though I knew the Alabama Elephants were a hockey team, his spiel (and my love of speed) were irresistible.

Darn shame that battery was dead!

Writing Workshop

2009-02-15T12:45:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure what you have scheduled for this Tuesday night (2/17/09) but whatever it is, cancel it and make sure that you're at the Vineyard Community Church's Student Union building for a sweet writing workshop led by Brad Wise.

Anywoo, whether you've written novels or just funny e-mails, come out and have some fun writing with your peers. Brad will facilitate and it's only from 7-8:30pm so it's not even that long. I went to the last one and it was a blast.

Join us for an experiment in short fiction led by Brad Wise. Your imagination will be stretched through exhilarating, invigorating, stimulating and amusing writing exercises. (How about those big words?) It'll be fun and laid back, perfect for non-writers and closet-novelistsalike. Bring your laptop and/or journal + pen. For ages 16-103.

Juicer: People are so strange # 2

2009-02-12T12:20:00.000-08:00

This has nothing to do with anything. It's just weird. And I'm not sure what's weirder- the lady scared of balloons or the fact that Maury is on television scaring the crap out of her.

#023

2009-02-09T09:31:00.000-08:00

This week's photo was taken by Cindy Tucker. I asked her for a little background on the shot. "Remember that local bakery in Dresden, Germany that I visited while I was attending the 24-7 Prayer International Leaders Gathering? Well this sign was located just a few doors down to what looked like a resident entrance. There was a group of us walking to lunch when we discovered it. Needless to say, I think this young man's sign had it's picture taken by at least half the attendees of the gathering."

"We attempt to contact the person and invite them to lunch with us because we wanted to hear his story and what adventures the sign had brought, but he wasn't home."

Also, the administers at 110words made an executive decision to just start focusing on the entries as a whole, and not "picking an winning entry". Because really, everyone's entries should be highlighted. And now, without further interruption...

Next Step
By: Josh S.

Thomas was trying to come across as embarrassed by the sign he secretly put on the window of the family diner acting as if someone else was responsible for it. It had been 4 years since the accident. Thomas had barely spoken to or even looked at a woman since he lost his wife. Last night he had decided to move on after much encouragement from his family and his daughter. He needed a way to jump start the process to let everyone know he was ready. His daughter came up with the sign idea as a joke. Deep down Thomas hoped that something might come out of the sign.

Window Shopping
By: Randy H.

Hey look honey, in this window. It looks as if someone is desperate for a date. Isn't that romantic?

Romantic? It's a hand made WANT ad! What's wrong with the world when a man can't walk up to a woman and ask her face-to-face for a date?

These are different times dear. Young people today meet and get to know each other on the computer. He must not be able to afford one of those match making web sites.

This recession is nailing everyone…banks, retailers, auto makers, and even single guys. I betcha Henry Ford never had trouble getting laid! He didn't need a computer, that's for sure.

Wanted
By Linda Gail A.

“Wanted – Lil’ Sexy Gal ta make me warm this Fall – Reward….” I stuck it up on my parent’s shop window with two pieces of gum. I just hope she walks by before my Pops sees it, because I know he’ll take it down. He wouldn’t understand. But, Emily will understand and know it’s for her. After all, she’s the cutest girl in the second grade, and she dressed up as a princess for Halloween. I overheard her telling a friend that she wanted a boy who would make a scene for her. Hope this works before any of the guys see this or I’m toast!

The Princess
By: Mary F.

Hey, Thomas, what’s with that ad?” Jake asked.

“Just what it says,” Thomas replied, not bothering to look up from his computer screen.

“Don’t you want to find your princess yourself?”

“No time for that. I’ll pick from the applicants.”

“Well, Thomas,” Jake said two weeks later. “You got a response.”

“Just read it to me. I have to finish this program.”

“Hey, big guy. I’m just what you need – a well built royal brunette. Cuddling is my cup of tea. If you want to go out and play, I’m game. Consider me your little princess. Enclosed is my pedigree, AKC registered."

"I think she’s too good for you, Thomas.”

Princess Petra
By: Jerry H.

Thomas studied the ancient palace’s ghostly reflection on the glass while he hung his sign. He wondered if Petra was watching him through the window in her flat. The hole that was born when she left had gnawed at his soul. His guilt in criticizing her on going to Vienna to study art encapsulated him in a force field of despair. He selfishly wanted to bask in his own glory of being voted Norwood’s best fry cook. He now waited in the café she frequented each morning, espresso adding to his nervousness of leaving his safe life behind, squeezing the engagement ring, praying that Petra still believed in fairy tales.

Juicer: People are so strange

2009-02-05T09:02:00.000-08:00

This is one of the strangest videos I've seen in awhile. I would love to know the story behind this. How in the world did they ever get to this point? How long did it take? What did the discussions look like planning something so ridiculous? Do they rehearse this in their mind when they're driving to work, eating breakfast, etc? I find this fascinatingly weird.

How's this apply to writing? Figuring out the inner workings of strange and quirky people can make for great characters in your stories. As you develop your characters and give them traits and quirks think about how they got there. Ask your characters some of the same questions I just "asked" about these newscasters. That'll give your characters depth. Depth makes them believable and interesting.

#022

2009-02-02T17:55:00.001-08:00

Scott Docherty found this gem for us. He didn't take it, but I still thought it fit our style. And I'm jealous that the dude can jump that high. I'm too fat. And I'm pretty sure that I'd poke my eye out with the umberella, so I can appreciate the risks this gentleman is willing to take.

Randy H. created our winning entry this week. I love reading Randy's work, because he's very good at giving the reader access into what the character is thinking and why they're thinking those particular thoughts. Along those same lines.... I know that each week you're prompted to create a new character and a new situation, but if a particular character that you created sticks out to you, keep writing! I hope that none of you ever just toss aside ideas. This blog is to encourage to write and think more creatively and to push your minds a bit. You're bound to find a few diamonds in the rough. Keep working, keep striving. Push yourself.

Okay, enough talking. Just read Randy's story and you'll see where a great character is being devolped.

Convincing Mom
By: Randy H.

Yes! This potentially no good, horribly bad day has turned sublime. "Good by" community theater and "so long" teeth whitening commercials. My big break is finally here. I'm going to be a star with endorsements, paparazzi, bling, a pop album….I need to call my friends, oh and mom. How do I tell my mom about this part? Do I mention the bedroom scene? I'll never here the end of it. I know, I'll tell her it's just a kissing scene, which I've done before. What if I have to take my pants off? She'll never understand. Ahhh, I'll say I have a stunt double and that those cheeks aren't mine.

Happy
By Linda Gail A.

I supposed I looked a little silly jumping in mid-air wearing shorts and a polo shirt in January holding my umbrella to keep the sleet off me, but I was so thrilled. You see, I’d just left my first weigh in at Weight Watchers and I’d lost 10 pounds. All of the sacrifice was worth it! Now my wife would be off my back because I beat her; she only lost 2 pounds. Now it’s time for a chili dog, because calories don’t count the day you weigh in. Here I come hot chili and melted cheese over mystery meat. I can’t wait!

Untitled
By: Joshua S.

Cecil was the happiest he's ever been. He felt like he was replaying the "singing in the rain" movie scene. Earlier this week Cecil and his friends saw that the new employee at the Women's Hair Salon was attractive, and Cecil bet his friends 20 dollars that he could get her number in a week. He got her number today after only 4 days. His strategy was going to the salon each day to shop for hair products for his relatives. After purchasing hair products for his mother, sister, aunt and cousin and spending $322.18 in four days, he finally got her number. Cecil won the bet and 20 dollars.

Juicer: Epic Snow Battle

2009-01-29T09:13:00.000-08:00

Every tale needs conflict. It usually happens halfway thru the story and it links everything from the beginning and sends the story in some kind of "new" direction. That happens here. On a side note: the cops eventually showed up and arrested people for "throwing with all their might." Ah, what strange times we live in.

#021

2009-01-26T18:42:00.000-08:00

This week's photo was taken by Jerry Hartman. Jerry has shared several wonderful photos with 110. When I first asked Jerry about his photos, he had this to say, "I took these when we were in Kazakhstan for 7 weeks (that’s 49 days too long) adopting our daughter Anastasia."

And Linda Gail Adams' entry was oh so worthy this week. Not only could I visualize the rush her character was in (no time to tie her scarf), but the ending made me laugh out loud. and it slightly reminded me of something my dad would get excited about. Read on, you'll see how wonderful this bit is.

His Hero
By: Linda Gail A.

Ralph didn’t even let me wash my hair. He saw his hero was in town and we had to leave within a minute. Ralph grabbed his jacket, pinned on his numerous medals and he was out the door before I could tie my scarf. His medals of “bravery” were each earned by turning in ten cereal box tops and signing a form promising to be brave. Ralph honks the horn. I hurry out to the car and soon we’re on our way to the mall; Ralph, me and hundreds of five year old kids to see his hero, Scooby-do.

William Rudolph Kincaid
By: Randy H.

Died January 26, 2009 at the age of 82. Beloved husband of Mildred Warner Kincaid, loving father to daughters Kimberly Fairchild & Joyce Woods, and cherished grandfather to 13 grandchildren. Preceded in death were three sons; William, Bradley, & Daniel. Known for his patriotism, Kincaid adorned proudly the military achievements of his sons who died in service of their country. Memorial service to be held Friday, January 30 at 10 am. The medals of valor will be bestowed to his loving wife and will then be donated to the National Museum in honor of her friend, hero, and soul mate. Family and friends will be received at a private burial

"Lop-sided Jacket"
By: Tim P.

Straining to see, Harold reports, “No, Sugar. I don’t think this is the entrance either.”

Pensive, Edith complains, “We’re going to miss the whole thing!”

“Let’s try down that way.” Harold leads through the bustle, her aged waddle anxiously trying to keep up with his impatient stride. His jacket lop-sided with the burden of these ridiculous medals. Edith had insisted he wear every one – even the two he received for “Custodian of the Year” (’91, ’94).

“If it’s that important to you,” he had told her, “I’ll wear them.”

“It is,” Edith confirmed. “I want everyone at the reunion to see what a fine gentleman I have for a husband.”

Omigawsk
By: Russ B.

It was quite a sight to behold. People world-over traveled to the small eastern Siberian town, Omigawsk.

Boris was quite proud of his new creation... even without all the medals from the Ministry of Art.
“This is the best I have done! And to have made it an age of 85!”

He beamed with pride.

Svetlana was also proud to have been the model for his creation. His medals probably meant more to her. She new that Boris’s wife, Olga, thought the medals were for some earlier work, done during the USSR era. But she knew better. They were for the glistening, 50 foot, nude statue of her.

The Tramp
By: Deb F.

Gladys could see the nostalgia well up in his eyes as he watched the street performers. It was 52 years since Marcus stood on the podium at the World Games. In 1956, he won three silvers for trampoline performances in individual and pairs. In ‘57 he scupped all the gold medals. Marcus’ flips, height and pikes were perfect. After trampoline was dropped as a world-class sport, his work was done in secret for the KGB. No more glory days. Gladys encouraged him to wear the medals on walks. She got a tingle at the base of her spine when she reminisced about their passionate times on the trampoline—together.

Symbols
By: Mary F.

Valentine’s recovery was slow. Silva watched his anxiety grow as the house deteriorated. She sold the house and now, the day before the festival, they were unpacking in an unfamiliar apartment. Silva reached for a trash bag and noticed the box of metals. “Valentine, what is this doing here?”

“Its trash”, Sil, just history”.

“Sit, love” she said, reaching into the box. “Remember this metal, your first, the year we married. You won for us.”

One metal at a time, she told the story of their lives together.

The next morning, she handed him his suit coat. “We go again today - to remember and to celebrate.”

“Yes, my love.”

Flashback
By: TresK

Stan breathed in the heavy aromas of the street vendors. From somewhere in that mix of smells, the scent of roasting peanuts prodded deep into his brain. Becky, his wife of 32 years, was unaware of the pangs of longing that smell elicited, unaware of Stan’s sudden desires, just as she remained unaware of the true meaning of his medals.

He’d always hedged about his war years, calling it “psychological research.” Becky would have tried to understand (she was a good woman) but she’d never know the true pain he’d endured or what it cost him to learn certain secrets. She didn’t know about his time as a squirrel.

Untitled
By: Josh S.

"Owen, I wish you wouldn't flaunt your metals in public"

"Oh come now Beru."

"Its just that since the last Fair, people have become suspicious"

"We've won twelve years straight, I can wear my prizes anywhere I want to"

"Its just that with those baseball players getting busted, the judges have tightened their rules and they might require testing next year."

"Ever since they changed to metals instead of blue ribbons, we've had to step our game up to keep up with the competition. What do you think tipped them off?"

"Naming our last pig Barry Bonds! The two people to our right are on to us, we should leave."

Juicer: Mixed Emoticons

2009-01-22T14:03:00.000-08:00

#020

2009-01-12T09:25:00.000-08:00

Untitled
By Steve

A medal. The humans who remained on our side - squirrel lovers we called them - thought I deserved a medal, just for surviving the final battle. But most of my brothers were gone. After years of destruction, tearing down our trees, stealing our nuts... it was war. A costly one. I didn't want to be a hero. I just wanted to do my part and protect my nuts... for me and my kind.

The Offer
By Linda Gail A.

It is such a tempting offer: a medal to complete my favorite outfit in exchange for a dangerous and not so ethical mission. My quest should I choose to accept is to climb up the oak tree, jump across to the power line, tightrope walk across the wire above the wide street below, jump onto the roof of the First National Bank, and make my way inside through the air vent shaft. Then I find the rare Gemini diamond, secure it, and make it back to the park bench without getting caught or dying on my mission. The medal is perfect; so incredibly shiny.

Untitled
By Jennie O.

“Your mission should you choose to accept it Sir Squiggly, is to arrive at the enemy camp and deliver the message of peace. It will be symbolized by this medal.”
“How sir, Can I convey such a message dropping directly into the enemy camp?” cough, cough,cough,”What if I do not make it into the camp?’”
“Would you like me to go for you Squiggly?
Immediately.
“No, Sir!”
“Why not, Squiggly?”
A pause.
“Because, I have faith I can do this Sir!”
“Is the faith in you, Squiggly?”
Another pause.
“No, Sir a far Greater Source. I’ll be off Sir. See you Soon!.

Super Softeyes
By Mary F.

“Private Softeyes, your assignment is to entertain a kid at Ronald MacDonald house.”
“Chirp.?”,
“He started chemo today. His Mother said he likes to watch squirrels so go swing and climb and keep the kid entertained.”
Chirp.
That night, Softeyes climbed the oak, swung to the window and located a spot in the child’s line of sight. He reached into his pack, pulled out the life lite, chanted the magic word, and aimed it at the boy’s eyes. Green glistening particles of life flowed into his body. The instrument beeped and shut off automatically.
Light dawned and Softeyes put on a show for a healthy boy who was going home.

The Kingpin
By Randy H.

While watching from a curiously safe distance, the Poser; sweat raining down, hears a snow patch in his ear and wonders if the boss has made the switch. Meanwhile, the boss, embracing his role as the brains behind this heist has again let his zeal get the better of him. Overconfident and dreaming of fame, the costume has attracted the attention of a hot, young woman for whom the boss would like to get better acquainted. The distraction of the savory perfume compromises the plan and the switch, which is integral to this heist, never happens. Nevertheless, the boss signals success, igniting the next phase.

Homeland Security
By Russ B.

Homeland security gave out it's first medal today.

Carl knew for the first time that his sacrifice was worth it.
“America’s nuts are now safe from the foreign nuts!” he mused.

Rumor of a terrorist attack against Georgia’s peanut crop had proven to be true, and almost more than he could stand against.
It was only through recruitment of the local rodent population that all terrorist ski masks could be stolen.

“Cowards,” he reasoned, “can’t fight showing their faces!”

Carl knew the mind transfer to a squirrel was dangerous, and one way.
But he didn’t know how short of a mission it would be.

Somehow, his peanut allergy transfered also.

Sir With Honor
By Jerry H.

Captain TomTillerie the first squirrel ever to lead The Long Patrol stood at attention but his stomach was twisted like discarded plastic wrap.
Brother DaveJoe of the Redwall Abbey spoke, “Captain we are counting on you to deliver this special flash drive to Salamandastrom. It contains the Holy Scriptures, to guide the church planters of the Polaris Vineyard in their attempts to love the creatures of the Frozen North into relationship with Christ; with our prayers, be safe, Godspeed.”
“Sir with honor” TomTillerie answered. He calmed.
Their adventures and challenges inspired tales for generations for they always gave God the glory.

Juicer: Breakin' the mold

2009-01-08T08:57:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you gotta break from the pack and do your own thing. In writing and in life. Right?

#019

2009-01-05T16:16:00.000-08:00

The lovely Deb F. found this gem online at yahoo. I thought it was appropriate to wrap up the holiday season with. Thanks, Deb. You made me laugh out loud when I originally saw this one.

As for the stories, I cannot stress enough how proud I am of each of you. I love to read the entries each week and see all of the different ways you take a simple idea and picture and create moving stories. Linda Gail A.'s story was no exception. I chose to highlight her this week because not only did she create something wonderful, it was moving and unexpected. Congratulations, Linda!!!!

Remembering
By: Linda Gail A.

I usually don’t cry when I come to my baby girl’s memorial; her last request. Brittany wanted an ornament because Christmas reminded her of gifts and life is the best gift. She wanted it gold because it would remind us where she was now – walking the streets of gold. And she wanted a hook to remind us that time is short. We need to grab opportunities that come along and live life to the fullest. That’s what my Brittany did until cancer took her from me. I usually don’t cry, but today she’d have been nine and I ache to hold her one more time.

Gimme some more...

The Poser
By: Randy H.

The man with the yellow boots stepped out of the shadows as the rented cargo truck sped away. What seemed inadvertent was completely according to plan. The ball was dropped and the man, wired to communicate, stood gawking and admiring this overgrown Christmas ornament. Drawing the attention of onlookers and halting the flow of traffic, the heist was underway. As the scene spirals into chaos, the man with the yellow boots turns away and folds up his umbrella; signaling the next phase of the operation. Nerves pounding, he walks away and disappears into the crowd. Making good on his part, the man awaits his share of the booty.

Getting Back to Reality
By: Deb F.

“Enough is enough,” she said as she pulled ornaments off the tree. “It’s January 5th -- y’wanna keep the tree up until Easter?” She dropped the round gold ball and it rolled to the edge of the door and out.

“Now go get that…or they’ll know we’ve got real gold up here,” said the Giant to his tiny wife.

She saw the gold ball fall through the cloud, bouncing down as it sailed to the world below. She donned her mucking boots and her sailing umbrella and took the plunge…down to the city below. As she closed her umbrella she pondered, “how am I gonna get this back up the beanstalk?”

People Who Are Smarter and Better Looking Than Us Get All the Breaks
By: Jerry H.

Dr. Annie Marshall quivered in her Hazmat boots, gripping a charged radiation shield. She still worked out; keeping the shapely legs that got her through grad school. Even though she found talking to advanced space aliens comfortable, those legs wobbled and she waited to faint.

“Yes I remember the StarHoppers and their bubble ships ringed with fire.” Annie answered the visitors from ChristmasWorld, “They ran a cafe at Dolphin’s Cove but they left five weeks ago.”

The visitors thanked her and before liftoff they invited her to a party on Betelgeuse. “YES”! She exclaimed. Hey, she was already dressed for it.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-25T17:50:00.000-08:00

#018

2008-12-22T07:10:00.000-08:00

The winning photograph for this week was taken by Cindy Tucker a few years ago. The creepiness of the dolls has always intrigued me. Here's what Cindy had to say,"I discovered this window display in a local bakery in Dresden, Germany while I was attending the 24-7 Prayer International Leaders Gathering. I was walking from the hostel to the building where we were meeting when I discovered this bakery with an odd collection of dolls displayed in their window.

Depsite the creepy dolls I did stop in and I must say I had one of the best creeps I have ever had."

Here's a link to Cindy's Flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ctatunderground

As for the entries..... I called a 3 way tie. I really liked all of the entries for different reasons. I enjoyed Linda's because of the child like qualities that were entangled in the main character. Mary's was sentimental and sweet. And I appreciated Jerry's not only because it was written wonderfully, but because it tied in with the Juicer for this week. It made homage to the young lady whose life was cut much too short during her church's Christmas production.

Not Laughing Now
By: Linda Gail A.

My husband made fun of my dolls when we got married. David and Rebecca were my kids. I refused to give them up just because I was now a married woman. When I started dressing them and putting them in his bakery window, I finally earned his approval. Customers stopped by each day to see what new thing they were doing. Business boomed. And I was no longer laughed at when I bought the dolls new clothes. My husband even wrote it into the bakery’s budget.

In Honor of a Life Snuffed Out Too Young
By: Jerry H.

Fred missed his daughter. Keri had been taken from them in a terrible accident, too young, doing what she loved best, sharing her faith. Fred felt as if parts of him had been wrenched out like the plumber jerked the jammed junk out of his café’s grease trap.

Fred had placed two dolls in the shop window. They sadden him because their cheeks reminded him of the way that Keri’s face lit up when she shared about the kids she taught. Keri loved those dolls, saving fifty soup labels to win them. They couldn’t take her place, but they could still bring smiles to children, just like Keri did.

A gift of love
By: Mary F.

“Teddy, My Grandpa made those dolls,” she said, stopping in front of the little shop.
“Mama, they have blue eyes and brown hair just like yours. Can we take them home?”
“No,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I owned this bakery once. Business was slow and I told Grandpa.”
“Santa can fix that. Just wait until Christmas.” he laughed. “Early Christmas morning, he walked with me to the shop and the sun rose on this display – his handiwork.”
“People stopped to look then came in to eat. A man offered to buy the business, dolls included. I sold it.” Then the tears flowed. “I sold my birthright.”

Juicer

2008-12-18T10:50:00.000-08:00

As some of you may or may not have heard, there was a tradgey last evening at Crossroads Church in Oakley, OH. During the opening night performance of the church's Christmas Production, a cast member fell somewhere between 20-30 ft after a malfunction with her harness, and consinquintely passed away this morning.

Obviously, this brings a very deep saddness to all who have heard the news and honestly, it's hard for me to grasp or understand. It's gut-wrentching.

I know normally we here at 110words send out funny or amusing photos and the stories are pretty light. But I just wanted to remind everybody that when words are hard to find verbally, sometimes the best therapy is writing about them. I know we give out tips and all, but journaling is so healthy and I believe it not only allows you the chance to express your feelings, but you can also improve your writing skills while doing it.

I've included a link to one of the local newstations stories on the incident. http://www.wlwt.com/news/18304564/detail.html

PLEASE continue to pray for the young ladies family and friends, as well as the church and all who were in attendance last evening.

#017

2008-12-15T12:29:00.001-08:00

Jerry Hartman has this week's winning photo. Just like his previous photo, Jerry took this in Russia. Here's what Jerry had to say about his winning photo and where you can find more his snapshots. "This picture is exactly what it looks like, Russian Orthodox priest blessing a car. This is outside of The Orthodox Cathedral in Almaty, of which I have pictures of there also. I have finally connected the links which can be found at daytimedreamsarebest.blogspot.com, this links to my flickr and picasa accounts"

Just like last week, LOTS of great entries. I picked Ken G. as the weekly winner. While everyone's entries were great, I picked Ken's because it was the most unique and honestly, kinda random. The whole thing made me laugh out loud.

The Wager
By: Ken G.

Mark Lutz groaned. Of course, the mistake he made was in betting Joe Boyd in the first place. He thought it was a safe bet that Dave would never walk on stage during Turkeyfest in that costume without saying a word. He didn’t see the long con. They had played him perfectly. Now he was stuck in this itchy bishop costume blessing used cars all week, because they had agreed that the loser would have to do the first new outreach suggestion they pulled out of the comment box in the atrium. Mark summoned his best Father Guido accent and went back to work.

Consequences
By: TresK

Brock paced nervously. His tunic scratched in the San Diego heat. This was supposed to be a simple mission; zap back two centuries, grab the girl, then home.

But nothing had been simple since Jardin went rogue.

“How much longer till it runs?” Brock’s voice was tight.

Craft remained calm. He was always calm. “Not long. I found the specs” he said, matter-of-factly.

Good, now to get her into the car. “It’s time to travel, M’Lady”.

She smiled at his pun, but her voice a mix of guilt and hope. “Will he be there?” she asked.

There was no answer he could give, so Brock just opened the car door.

Templar Lexus
By Deb Freitag

Andriatte felt relief wash over her. The sun was already high but she was finally on her way to shop for something fabulous to wear to her nephew’s wedding in Lake Como.

“Are you almost finished?” she piped up impatiently as the priest flung incense into the engine of her faltering Lexus. She didn’t want to get rid of it yet, even though it left her hanging on her last trip to Milan. Instead, she e-mailed BlessMePadre.com for some divine assurance.

An hour into the trip, she smelled sickeningly sweet smoke. She lifted the hood and shouted, “Madre mia,” as she pried the singed Holy Flinging Brush from the manifold.

By the Book
By: Mary F.

“Brother Paul, is this car a care”

“Yes your Excellency, it is the only new car I ever owned and it has been a continual problem.”

“Let us bring this to the Lord,” the Bishop responded.

“Lord, I remind You of your Words in Philippians 4:6 when You said

‘Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.’

My brother and I come with humble and thankful hearts for the privilege of bringing this request to You. We ask for a complete resolution.”

“Check your lemon laws, boys”, said the lawyer in the red shoes and black jacket.

"Ashes"
By: Tim Parsley

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t thrown out last year’s branches!” Father James was mumbling a stream of complaints as he flipped through the owner’s manual.

Derek’s red-robed shoulders slumped in defeat. So far, his internship wasn’t going very well. No one told him that you burned last year’s Palm Sunday branches for this year’s ashes.

Desperate to cover their bases, they had been scouring the neighborhood looking for fallen palm branches. Equipped with a Bic lighter and a plastic container to gather the ashes, they still had two hours until the Ash Wednesday services began. Plenty of time.

That’s when the car began to sputter…

Unction of the Sick
By: Randy H.

"…from ashes to ashes and dust to dust", pronounced Father Fredrick solemnly. "This concludes the ceremony of last rites."

As Father Fredrick closed the book, the guilt swelled within. When parishioner Christopher asked for counsel about his dilapidated car Fredrick did not foresee this misunderstanding. Father Fredrick had advised against repairs due to the condition and the expense relative to its years of service. Strangely depressed and mournful, Christopher requested the unction of the sick sacrament. Caught off guard and painfully empathetic, Father Fredrick agreed. Leaving the priesthood was something not dared considered, until that day.

Prank
By Linda Gail A.

It was an innocent coincidence that the car broke down in front of the Cardinal’s residence. My brother decided that it would be fun to pull a fast one on the Cardinal. He quickly rigged up a speaker that would pick up his cell phone. Then he moved around the corner and “the car” started confessing its sins. In no time at all, a crowd gathered and the Cardinal’s attention was gotten. Before long, the car was getting absolution. Then my brother had to go and give his own confession.

#016

2008-12-08T15:53:00.000-08:00

110's own Jerry Hartman took this photo. I thought it was absolutely perfect for this blog. It's unique, different, creative. Here's what Jerry had to say about this snapshot.

"...this was a piece of playground equipment in the playground at Children’s Home # 1 in Almaty Kazakhstan where we met our daughter Anastasia. The mountains in the background are translated as The Old Man. If you follow them on a map they become the Himalayas."

Kudos, Jerry! And remember, if you'd like to see your photo featured on this blog, send me your best pic to the110wordsflickrexperiment@yahoo.com and you may see yourself featured on here!

As for the featured writing entry this week.... The winner is... Tim Parsley. Tim's new to 110words, but I was blown away with his story. It had all of the right elements... A good storyline, emotion, descriptive words. You knew the who, what, where and why. All of the key elements that we discuss on this blog. Great job, Tim!

"Rocket"
By: Tim P.

Pulling the last drag, she pushes out the smoke sideways through pursed lips as her eyes narrow at the red rocket still standing in her back yard. Propped casually in an old lawn chair, a crossed leg bounces repeatedly from under her lime green bathrobe. A thinning house slipper dangles from her foot.

When he built the rocket the boys were still small. Six and four? Five and three? Hard to remember. Been so long. Boys are both driving now.

Clearing her throat, she stands up, walks inside the house. Pulls the patio door closed. Through the glass, eyes the rocket.

Four years since he left. That, she remembers.

Gimme some more...

Juicer

2008-12-05T06:33:00.000-08:00

So technically it's Friday. And I'm just now sending out the Thursday Juicer. Oops.

Instead of showing you something that you probably already know, I wanted to share an opportunity for you to view some great writing in action.

110's very own Brad Wise has written and directed a fantastic mash-up of stage and film, called the {re}gifter. It's this year's Christmas production at the Vineyard Community Church in Springdale, OH. I would encourgage everyone to come out and see some very talented writing come to life. Tix are free, but you need to reserve them soon.

Check out this link for more info and a few teasers.

http://www.regiftershow.com/about.php

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

2008-11-27T09:07:00.000-08:00

#015

2008-11-24T16:35:00.001-08:00

What could possibly be better than Jesus popping out of an egg?

Linda A. created the highlighted entry of the week. It took me by surprise and made me laugh out loud. I can appreciate the element of surprise in a good story.

Mirage
By: Linda Gail A.

Its 108 degrees; the towel draped over my head to keep the sun off drips with my own sweat. The Gobi desert sucks every drop of moisture from me, and my mind begins to wander. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast with jelly, large frothy glasses of milk…. Food images keep appearing in my mind’s eye. It’s almost like I can touch them. An egg emerges. It cracks itself and Jesus stands inside. Oh God, is this a sign? Am I going to die? I drop to my knees to repent, only to hear evil laughter telling me it’s too late. I know better. “Jesus, save me.”

Gimme some more...

Juicer

2008-11-19T19:58:00.000-08:00

This is great stuff for the folks who have a hankering for writing for television or radio. Good writing comes in different forms.

# 014

2008-11-17T14:47:00.000-08:00

Sweet nothings, it's been 14 weeks already! Where has the time gone?

I just finished reading each of your stories and I was amazed at how each of you has blossomed over a few short weeks.

Deb F. is our highlighted entry this week. Deb's clever colaberation of embracing normal people and "stars" is classic. And her end made me laugh out loud. She did something that we talked about in a Thursday Juicer not that long ago - taking a normal situation and heightening it to where unsual characters or situations can be explored.

Title: Pimpin’ Da Sidewalk
By: Deb F.

Gerard Steele Channel 9: So...ladies, how and why did this become your Sunday morning ritual?”

Danise: It started about two years ago when we saw Hugh Jackman run by in leopard tights and a gold shirt.

Sharon: I’ll never forget that day.

Danise: Da very nex’ Sunday we see Betty White – no kiddin’ – get a cab and she was lookin’ rough.

Sharon: We figure Saturday night is party time for the stars and we can catch ‘em on the mornin’ after! So now we host a gossip blog: at blogspot/pimpindasidewalk

Danise: …And we’re a hit at coffee hour after Sunday evenin’ service at St. Paul’s.

Sharon: We pray for them.

Gimme some more...

Juicer

2008-11-13T11:05:00.000-08:00

Everyone needs to be reminded of the Who, What, Where, When and Why of Storytelling. And this guy has a cool accent. Dig It.

#013

2008-11-10T15:32:00.000-08:00

Mary F. was the higlighted entry this week. I absolutely loved the romantic aire she created with her story. We don't get that a whole lot on this particular blog, but she expanded her horizans with this. Fantastic job, Mary!

Little Star-Hoppers, Let Us Love
By: Mary F.

Little star-hoppers, not long ago, the heavenly wanderer’s came to the beach by Dolphin cove. Their ships were gigantic bubbles rimmed with fire – a holy fire, some said. Perhaps it was so because the heavenly wanderer’s were gentle and kind beings who brought gifts of healing and hope. People, sick and well, young and old, came to see them and most were healed. But some, the Villi, came to kill. Their hearts were angry and fearful and they blew up the billowing ships and poisoned the heavenly beings.
Little star-hoppers, these heavenly wanderer’s do not come anymore but we who have received love must give love to all we meet.

Gimme some more...

Juicer

2008-11-06T18:11:00.001-08:00

The Office does a fantastic job each week of taking a normal scenario and adding a healthy dose of ridiculous to it. A story is always better if your character is "normal" but in an absurd situation or you play out how your charcter(s) is absurd but the situation is normal. I learned this in improv class. I'm not that smart to think of it myself. Thanks, Joe Boyd.

#012

2008-11-03T09:57:00.000-08:00

Randy H's entry was selected for week number 12. Even though I'm sick of the election already, Randy's entry still made me laugh out loud. He did a great job of using current news but in a way that's still clever and unique. Check it out.

Dirty Politics
By: Randy H.

"Geez Joe! Say it ain't so", Sarah shouts.

"Now that I'm VP I don't have all that much to do," Joe responds. "So I thought I would convert this restroom to accommodate both sexes like the North Koreans have done in public places. I am the foreign policy expert you know."

"This is the U.S. Capitol building, NOT North Korea." Condescendingly Sarah jabs, "Haven't you ever heard of freedom?"

"That's unfair," Joe says.

"Is it?" Sarah replies, "You're peering over my restroom stall. Unless you're here to diffuse a nuclear bomb I don't need you in every aspect of my life."

Joe concludes, "You haven't seen the half of it."

Gimme some more...

Juicer: Spider (short film)

2008-10-30T12:34:00.000-07:00

Be advised. This is intense. I chose it because it's a story that sucks you in and leaves you a little breathless and does so with very little dialog.

#011

2008-10-27T16:09:00.000-07:00

Markey Mark is our highlighted entry this week. I totally dug his descriptions of the cigarettes and how white his knuckles were, among other things. Mark painted a fascinating scene by simply using descriptive words. Great job, Mark.

The Captain
By Mark H.

Darryl jammed the stick into drive, smashed the accelerator to the floor, his thick fingers turning white as he gripped the searing hot steering wheel. Cold ashes fell from the open ash tray. Jagged tears in the weathered vinyl seats gnawed at his legs as he fought to control the fish-tailing car.

Darryl had just jumped to warp speed as he reluctantly left the last session of the 42nd annual Star Trek Convention. For a brief few minutes longer, he was not Darryl, he was Captain James Kirk, brilliant commander, supremely confident, the ultimate player.

Soon, only Darryl would arrive at his empty one bedroom apartment, alone once more.

Gimme some more...

Juicer: Mind Bender

2008-10-23T11:21:00.001-07:00

#010

2008-10-20T10:14:00.000-07:00

Apparently our amazingly awesome photo intimdated a few folks. Not as many entries as I was hoping for.

By the way, is that not totally a young John Tesh in the photo?

Isaac S. wrote the highlighted entry for this week. I could appreciate his story because his "awesome story" had a bit of uppercrust to it. It was a different spin than most of the other stories and I could appreciate that.

Awesomeness
By: Isaac S.

In an attempt to show his republican friends just how awesome diversity can be, Brad organized the first ever “international and minority students against big government” picnic.
“Sure you can lure in those types by offering something for free,” scoffed Brad’s frat brother Graham, “but try asking them to a potluck event and see who shows.”
Brad didn’t listen to Graham’s cynicism. He knew on campus there had to be more people than just his clique who wanted economic deregulation, low taxes, and babies to live. He wanted to help maintain individual freedom, he didn’t care who brought the drinks and desserts. And besides, the Asian chick is hot.

Gimme some more...

Juicer: The Princess Bride

2008-10-16T07:07:00.000-07:00

I have no idea how I ended up here, choosing a Princess Bride clip. It has nothing really to do with writing short short fiction. But it's bloody brilliant dialog. So....enjoy.

#009

2008-10-13T10:15:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone who submitted. This past week's writing "rule" was the two men in the photo could not be related by blood and had to have a connection OTHER THAN boxing. I like the spin Russ took. Good stuff. Enjoy.

Hans & Jerrold
by Russ B.

Hans's attractive legs brought him more work, but Jerrold believed his hands were better than anyone's. ...and took great pains to protect them.
"Hans can only dream of skilled hands... if Hans can dream", thought Jerrold.
Hans was a pretty boy, airhead type. Jerrold had to keep reminding him that boxing was only PR, and to stop hitting him in the face.
It was no longer fun rooming together.

Hans dreamed only of lunch. “Mmm...beer and bratwurst” (which would eventually become his downfall).

Jerrold knew “Hands may be great, but if face looks like cauliflower, you lose job!.” The super model game in Prague was cut-throat.

Gimme some more...

The Juicy Juicer

2008-10-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

This may be a bit of a stretch, but work with me here.

An old lady, her daughter and grandchild go outside for some fresh air. That's the basic premise. However, watch the video and see how the story creator wove a plain basic idea into something unexpected.

Never forget the element of surprise.

And if you're really an overachiever, check out this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=70NxlgjFIVU

008

2008-10-06T13:45:00.001-07:00

This picture is a personal favorite of mine. He just makes me uncomfortable. Creepy.

* By the way, for anyone who is just checking our site, we've begun to add little prompts in each week as well as sticking with the 110 words or less, due by Monday at 11am deal. For example, this past week each story had to have a conflict dealing with fish somehow. Coolness, I know. *

Brad W. is our highlighted story of the week. His conflict was subtle, but it reminded me a lot of how a man's mind functions. I may be sexist here, but I thought he hit the nail on the head. In his entry, you understood where he was at, why the character was there and what he was doing.
When you describe the whole picture, your readers can grasp on and enjoy the journey with you.

Camouflaged Apology
by Brad W.

Derrick sits in his brother's room digesting two quarter-pounder meals and 13 cigarettes. He wants to watch television. He wants Randy to come home and find the remote so he can watch television. He considers regurgitating the McBeef and hiding it in the hamper. He stares at his crotch and wonders if that’d make him bulimic. Stupid Randy and his faggy feelings. He probably hid the remote on purpose. Derrick scans the room for a pen. The desire to write an apology battles the desire to sleep. “Randy, sorry for not taking you fishing yesterday. My bad. Next time, ok?” He decides not to yell at him for the remote.

Little Bud By: Mary F.

“This can be an amicable divorce. Our firm can handle everything” her lawyer said.
“Ok by me, I replied. She can have the house, my 401K, and the cars. All I want is Little Bud.”
I knew she never liked Little Bud, my gorgeous Copperbanded butterflyfish. Maybe she was jealous. I could sit for hours watching him diving between the rocks in the aquarium.
Finally the day arrived for me to pick him up.
“He’s had an accident,” she said when she came to the door.
Then I saw her cat puking up gold and bronze flaked vomit. I know it wasn’t an accident.He’s gone forever. I’m so sad.

Birthday Surprise
By Mark H.

I’M creepy?! That pretentious little brat said I’M creepy! I spend an hour getting made up so I can entertain him and his little gang of cretins down at the Golden Arches, and he says I’m creepy. So anyway after he tells me this, somethin’ just snaps, and I grab the first Happy Meal I see – it’s a fish sandwich, heavy on the tartar sauce, lucky for me. So I mash it the little bugger’s face, wash his hair in the sauce.

Well, it did look kind of good, so I get one to go, with fries. Ahh, nothin’ like a good meal after a hard day’s work.

Argument
By: Linda Gail A.

“Are you eating again?”
“What’s it to you?” Bubba replies as he wraps his mouth around another McDonald’s Quarter Pounder, in no mood to be nagged.
“Your shorts don’t fit you anymore,” Bubba’s wife replies.
“They’re fine.”
Bubba’s wife enters the room. “Your fish is hanging out,” she points. “Your shorts are too small.”
Bubba shrugs. “I said they’re fine.”“When you have a child pull the flower in your pocket and your drawstring pants fall as planned don’t call me from jail because your fish was hanging out.” She turns to walk from the room, but adds one last sage comment. “Buy bigger shorts.”

How the World Was Saved Through Pollution By: Jerry H.

BozotheEvil exhausted, superpower drained, fell into a sluggard heap to the floor like a pile of discarded washrags. As each cigarette burned it’s last he exploded a balloon, the reverberation comforting him, reminders of the sound of his impacting energy rays.

“BozotheGood imagining he could ruin my plans and save those starving super intelligent orphans with Fillet O’Fishes. I showed him, I showed him good.”
BozotheEvil enjoyed every bite of his spoils, 513-1/2 fried fish sandwiches; satisfied he fell asleep snoring like an idling bulldozer. Quietly the big sleep came, mercury poisoning, BozotheEvil had finally done something right in his life.

Untitled By: Deb F.

“That is IT!” swore Reggie. “That’s the last gig where I open for the pony.”

“You should make ‘em pay for the shoes,” said Tony, “It’s not easy to get dem clown shoes clean, y’know.”

“Nobody wants to see the clown anymore. They weren’t even watching me make the balloon animals.”

“Yeah, but you should get you some o’ dose long thin balloons. These round ones aren’t dat exciting.”

“No man, I think I lost them with the fish. Swallowing the goldfish used to have them riveted. But kids are jaded.”

“Probably the hormones in the fast food, man.”

“Pass me the Coke I gotta wash down Goldie."

The Plight Of A Clown By: Randy H.

"That John Denver is full of sh**"

The comedic line rolls from the TV as it pacifies Ralph with a movie he's seen dozens of times. It reminds him of his initial encounter with the McDonald's people. During the interview it was explained to him rather convincingly that this job would be much better than the one he had at Macy's. With this position he wouldn't have to take silly photographs with squirmy and annoying kids who beg for toys they know their parents will buy them.

Ralph ruminates, "What's worse; working 20 hours a week or eating these cold, leftover fish sandwiches every night?"

The Third Party
By: Tres K

Bobby flopped to the floor. He was, as Grandpa Jack used to say, “Tugging on an empty line.” Around him earnest young men talked softly into their cell phones. Outside, the press circled like barracuda, sniffing for blood. His campaign manager would keep them at bay long enough for Bobby to enjoy his fish sandwich and fries. Bobby valued Leon for that, above all else. The press could throw around words like “dynasty” and “legacy” all they liked, but he had to live this circus. He should be used to it, but all he could think of was the peace and quiet waiting for him on November 5th.

Thursday Juicer: Bob Dotson on storytelling

2008-10-02T08:49:00.000-07:00

Bob Dotson talks about the Hey, You, See, So components of storytelling.

#007

2008-09-29T17:16:00.000-07:00

Wow, you all sure did turn out for #007. And sweet petunias, you kids used your imagation. It appears that the prompt of "I can't believe she didn't..." really helped get the juices flowing. So you'll probably see a bit more of that.

This week's highlight entry was from Jerry H. First, he had the catchiest title. And secondly, Jerry used fantastic detail. Specifically in regards to the eyes and make and model of the vehicle. Well, just read it, you'll see.

There's A Reason Studeabkers Are So Obosolete
By: Jerry H.

I can’t believe she didn’t open the clutch when she started the car. A 1955 atomic powered Studebaker XL47 isn’t like modern cars with voice activated engines and clean carbon monoxide power.
I told her, “Take the Ford”, but “No Daddy please the Stude is so cool. Coolness is a vital part of winning that scholarship to Harvard.” Well after battering her baby blues, a couple more oh daddies and pleases, I gave in. Then call came, midnight, Mill Valley Mall, car backfired, Daddy help. I don’t know who needs to have their butt kicked more, her or me.

Prank
By: Brad W.

"I can't believe she didn't think that was funny."
"Right?"
“Did she see you?”
“I don’t think so. I was driving pretty fast.”
“Could you see her face?”
“Yeah, bro. I watched her in the rear view. She was FREA...KING... OUT.”
“Oh, I know. She called me bawling.”
“What’d she say?”
“I could hardly understand her. It was nuts, man. She was…”
“Acting like she saw a ghost? Ha hahahahaha.”
“She peed herself.”
“What?!”
“Peed…..her pants.”
“Dude!”
“Yeah.”
“That’s awesome!”
“I don’t know, man. Peed-pants seems a little….”
“Uhhhh…awesome?”
“I don’t think so. I’m feeling a little guilty.”
“Whatever dude.”
“I’m kinda hungry.”
“Hop in.”
“Waffle House open?”
“Duh.”

“She’s Back”
By: Joe B.

“I can’t believe she didn’t call first.”
Tommy mumbled, staring down at his own vomit.
Gross.
And all over his leather Bostonians, too.
He planned on wearing sneakers, but forgot to pack them in the duffle bag.
The duffle bag. Crap. He left it back where she had energized.
“She shoulda called first,” he said aloud. He was sure he was done vomiting now. He wiped his mouth and inspected the splatter on his shoes.
He couldn’t look up. Not yet. He thought if he didn’t look at it, it would just go back to normal.
He hated her. This is what she does to him. And now she’s back.

Un-Happy Birthday To Me
By: Christopher D.

I can't believe she didn't get the red one. For months, maybe even years we have talked about this. We've looked at catalogs. We've visited every Light Up Car Show for hundreds of miles. Each and every time she asked, I told her I wanted one. Not only did I want one. I wanted a red one. Now here I am, on my birthday, in front of my friends and family, and I have to try and be excited about receiving the wrong lit car. I mean, the interior looks nice. It doesn't have many miles. But darn it, it's just not the red one!

The Bi-Monthly Pizza Party
By: Hannah K

I can’t believe she didn’t stay for this. I told her it was worth skipping her aunt’s party to see and it only happens every eight weeks. “Jimmy,” Augusta said. “No cars, not even cars that ‘glow in the dark’ are worth skipping Astella’s bi-monthly pizza party.”

That’s the third one this evening, driving out from behind the carwash as if they were born there.

“Excuse me sir!” the driver said.
“Yeah?”
“Could you direct me to the, um, ‘highway’?” I ambled over, “Where you headed, mister?”
“A coronation… I mean pizza party.”
“Pull out, turn left, and follow the signs.” I wish Augusta were here to see this.

When?
By: Tres K

I can’t believe she didn’t calibrate the stopping watch. She didn’t even check the time range. Now I’ve got some clean-shaven yokel starring in the side window. And she’s the one calling me careless? Untamed, maybe even undomesticated, but not careless. Drunk on my own cajones, she said. Right about that, I guess, but she’s never Zapped, never felt the tingle of a new When or the adrenaline high of the unknown. Shit… only 00:00:29 more till the skin cools. Then I’ll have to open that door and start dancing, start figuring out when I am. If I ever get back, I swear I’ll Zap that broad to 3018.

Ethel the Nutcase
By John A.

I can't believe she didn't know that filling the carburetor full of plutonium would have this effect. True that Ethel has a fixation on Back to the Future and its sequels, but did she really think she could time travel in our car ? That goofy wife of mine. Just how am I going to explain this to the police ? And where is Ethel right now ? Sleeping. And hoping that when her alarm clock rings, the time machine on the nonexistent flux capacitor will be ready to transport her to God knows where. Or when. I knew that sleeping on large curlers would someday cause her to go off the deep end.

Bye-Bye Dream
By: Mary F.

I can’t believe she lost the glowing pink Cadillac.
“For your 30th birthday,” I said. “I’ll give you a 1955 pink Cadillac and have it converted into a glower”.
She is a living breathing Elvis fan who dreamed of owning a 1955 pink Cadillac. Her apartment is covered with Elvis memorabilia: pink Cadillac cookie jar, Elvis pink Cadillac montage, Elvis pink Cadillac key chain and every Elvis pink Cadillac item that she can scrounge up on e-bay. But she let the salesman buy her a few drinks, talk her out of the Cadillac, and then charge her to juice up her Grandpa’s old car.
She traded away her dream.

Fresh Paint
By Mark H.

I can’t believe she didn’t put the car in park… but really I can. She’s my achingly beautiful, Einstein smart and often laughingly absentminded wife. She “parked” the car at Lake Luminescence near our home in northern Minnesota to go jogging on the trail around the lake, aptly named for the unique light-emitting algae that coat it during the summer. Unfortunately, the car slipped gurgling into the lake before she was even around the first bend. By the time I arrived, it had been towed out, glowing like a casualty of Three Mile Island , as the luminous microscopic organisms transformed our ride into a shimmering, lime-green spectacle of light.

In Denial
By Linda Gail A.

I can’t believe she didn’t join me for a night to remember. I don’t know what it was that turned her off. I have the absolute coolest tricked out car. I replaced the boring metal with a clear plastic and filled it with the same fluid that’s inside a glowing lava lamp. I mean, come on, what other guy has that? So clearly, it’s not my car. But that only leaves me. Yet that doesn’t compute either. I hold seven degrees from top online universities, and I have a pet llama. I am so totally a babe magnet. It’s clearly an issue with her.

Shot Thru the Heart and You're to Blame
By: Jenny S.

“I can’t believe she didn’t leave the keys!”
Carl stooped over to get a better look inside. Geraldo just sat in the drivers sear, numb.
Carl had a thing for shady women and pyramid schemes. This was an issue that had plagued him most of his adult life. And as embarrassing as it was, he always signed on for another product.
This time was no different. Carl of course, had already paid his fee to join upfront and had brought Geraldo as part of the recruiting process. But with no keys, getting his friend to buy into The Mean, Green, Radio-Active Machine would prove to be a bit more difficult.

Unexpected Breakdown

By: Randy H.

I can't believe she didn't work faster. The results are in and what we've found is quite remarkable. The dye we ran through your system revealed an obstruction; an unusual one. So you're going to feel some bloating and tightness for awhile until we can flush your abdominal cavity. I am writing two scrips that I want you to start today. The first is a liquid that will get rid of that sputtering sensation and re-energize you. The second is a capsule that will break down all the gunk and help your system operate efficiently. Remember, no greasy foods. I want to see you again in two weeks. Any questions Mr. Goodwrench?

Thursday Juicer: Michael vs. Toby

2008-09-25T11:22:00.001-07:00

The Office comes back to us tonight. Hence this video choice. One of my favorite parts of the story line is the mystery behind why Michael hates Toby so much. Humorous conflict and mystery are the two things we could all maybe wrestle with as storytellers.

#006

2008-09-22T16:18:00.000-07:00

Everyone seemed to take a different spin on the mud picture. That was refreshing! It you combine our stories together, you have one depressed, lonely Mudman with clear pores. Fantastic.

Linda's our feature story this week, if only because she can spell Chateu Le'boint. So.... French. Even though the main character in the picture was obviously a male, Linda added that interesting perspective that only a female can appreciate - getting rid of dry, itchy skin. This is my kind of man.

Sidenote: my husband actually took this photo on our vacation to the middle of nowhere. We can upon a fantastic little festival in Brementon, OH where they were enjoying many hours of mud volleyball......

Sunbaked
By Linda Gail A.

When I read the ad promising to cure dry flaky skin, I jumped at the chance to finally rid myself of living an itchy misery. I went to the spa at the Chateu Le’boint and ordered the revered mud treatment. I was surprised to find out the treatment takes 7 hours, but only on sunny days beginning at 10 a.m. The technician applies the mud and then you endlessly walk in the hot French sun. Finally they crack you; with the mud goes your flaky skin. Only no one mentioned that you might want to remain on the grounds. The looks from locals were priceless.

Reluctant Hero
By Mark H.

I am Mudman, defender of the weak. I could have been bitten by a radioactive spider, but noooo, I had to fall into a radioactive mudpit. Sure, I can vanquish a dozen bad guys with a torrent of mud from my fingertips. Gets in their eyes and up their noses. Really something to see. But you ever try to get a date when you look like this? I mean, where you gonna find a Mudwoman? And then at parties, they make me stay outside. And my boss complains that I smudge everything at work. And pigs chase me for the mud. And…well, it’s just a tough life for ol’ Mudman.

Out Of Touch

Randy H.

I've never really played football in a mud bowl before, at least not intentionally. That was a well deserved break from the research paper due tomorrow. I don't know what to write anyway. My brain is all locked up. Moore always assigns these ridiculous topics and wants citations. I didn't expect to see Janie out here. I wonder if she saw me? Good thing I added those ab sets last night. I hate doing abs but it was well worth it. It's a wonder Janie didn't tackle me herself. Girls like to play hard to get.Hey Ryan, can I hitch a ride?

Mud Slinging
By: Jenny S.

Tom’s therapist had told him he needed to find an extra-curricular activity. After he discovered his wife was playing her own version of Twister with their exterminator, Tom broke off relationships with everybody he knew, including his mind. He found solitude in torturing his ex’s favorite pillows – oversized, overpriced, crush velvet – and slinging mud at her in online chat rooms.
After all the pillows had been destroyed, Tom decided to heed his therapists advice. After aimlessly driving around, he saw his answer. As each mud filled balloon burst against his skin, the pain grew more and more intense. But Tom was grateful for a different reason to cry.

Thursday Juicer: Ira Glass

2008-09-18T08:36:00.000-07:00

Here is Ira Glass of "This American Life" talking about the building blocks of a great story. I love this guy. Love his voice. Love how carefully he chooses his words on his radio show. Love the way they tell stories and how they take one theme and take a bunch of truly unique looks at said theme. Check out their podcast here. The two building blocks he discusses are Anecdote (sequence of events) and Moment of Reflection. Good stuff here, enjoy. Part two is good as well.

#005

2008-09-15T18:53:00.000-07:00

So Hurricane Ike visited the Tri-State this weekend. According to Willie on 700WLW last night, so of you may not even have the electricity to read this entry until Saturday. Lucky, lucky you.

Mark's entry is our blog of the week. It's funny and very descriptive. It's not just a chair - it's an oversized chair. It's not just a mug - they're heavy and empty. No one wears ties. I can visualize what this office looks like, how the office staff is dressed. When you can almost include your audience in with the story, you've got a great story. You shouldn't just tell a story, you should involve the audience. They should never be confused on where the story is taking place or who the main characters are. Great job this week, Mark.

Worse Than Fees
By Mark H.

It was long after “banker’s hours” had ended for the day. The officers of First Boar Bank sat around the large mahogany table in President Ty Twaddy’s personal conference room. Suit jackets adorned the backs of the oversize chairs, ties were long ago discarded, heavy coffee mugs emptied as they stared at the photo of the unidentified man straining to take his cash from one of the bank’s ATMs. “But sir,” pleaded the vice-president again, “our customers are SUPPOSED to withdraw their money. They use it to, you know… buy things.”

“No! I won’t have it!” Twaddy railed over and over. “This meeting is finished! Raise the ATMs another foot!”

Magic Potion
Mary F.

Some predicament, trying to manage when you’re 3 feet tall. It’s all your fault, Bertie – you and your old buddy, Dr Fink.
“Honey,” you said, “we’re having a little clinical trial. Dr. Fink has developed a new drug that could help you lose your little tummy.”
“You mean my big belly. What did this discovery do for the other people who tried it?”
“It’s new, Sweetie. We need to try it on humans – but it’s safe.”
Ha, safe. They should use it to cure overcrowding in prisons since it shrinks people to half their size. Hope I can deposit this before someone sees me.

Bad Day
Randy H.

After explaining to the executive editor that he had been writing such anonymous columns for two years, Tom still didn't understand why as an AP writer his name wasn't published, identifying his authorship.

Feeling slighted and misunderstood, Tom thanked his boss for listening and exited. Tom stepped outside, looked at his watch, and with the rest of his day open decided to self soothe with a bite to eat. First he needed cash. Seeing an ATM, Tom angrily wondered how a machine he couldn't even reach could be credited to "Jeanie" while his writing read around the world would remain with no name. Tom's appetitequickly vanished.

The Dowry
Tres K.

Jack was getting desperate. This should have been easy; plant the seeds, climb the stalk – just like his family had done for generations. But things, apparently, had changed. He located the giant easily enough, living off Vine Street. There wasn’t any goose but Jack did find an ATM card in the big guy’s wallet. In spite of the changes, giants hadn’t gotten any smarter; his PIN was on a Post-it note stuck to the back of the card. Now all Jack had to do was reach the machine, punch the buttons and withdraw the gold. Yeah, right… Still, Mr. Peep had promised his daughter’s hand, if he made it back.

Thursday Juicer: PostSecret

2008-09-11T11:33:00.000-07:00

PostSecret is an amazing experiment in storytelling. People share their secrets via postcards. Amazing how much is communicated in so few words using a tiny 4x6 canvas. Some of these are very painful to read- just so you're aware. But they're inspiring on so many different levels.

#004

2008-09-07T20:43:00.000-07:00

There's been some very interesting stories coming in about the Dracula Cha-Cha. Some seem to have nothing to do with good 'ol Dracula. Soooo, that's different... But I really liked how Randy took something ordinary and created it into something fantastic. Everyday characters, but he twisted it into a news story with phenomenial results. Excellent job, Randy!!!

Fiasco
By: Randy H.

LIVERPOOL-- Today marks the anniversary of the debut of a musical phenomenon that never materialized. It was at Stanley Field 35 years ago that Bob McFadden and his Transylvania Polka staged an event that was utter failure. Bob McFadden himself became a laughingstock among musicians and entertainers worldwide. This concert was a marketing disaster as the event was dubbed the new rage in youthful entertainment. The album titled Dracula Cha-Cha had become trendy in the US as teens filled dance halls dressed in Halloween costumes. Looking to capitalize globally, marketing executives looked to England. Less than 100 spectators attended this concert and McFadden went on to produce children's music.

Try out these other tasty treats...

Blonde Bride
By: Mary F.

Look at me, a real doll. Gorgeous curls, golden hair, and skin like ivory. Perfect is the word to describe me. No wonder the Count wanted me for his date. Who wouldn’t? Lucky dog, I say.
I feel creepy. It’s only the first dance, my absolute favorite, the Transylvania polka. He’s dead white and talk about cold – corpses are warmer than him. Those are fangs, not teeth. I heard he was weird.
Maybe I should leave soon, really soon. It’s so dark – who blew out the candles? Where did everybody go? Does he really have 3 brides? What was that again, the blonde is number 4. NOooooo.

Our Song
By: Linda Gail A.

I hadn’t seen the old vinyl in years when my grandson pulled it out of a dusty pile.

“Grandma, what’s this?” he asked holding it up.

Memories surged back. I’d bought it the night after the Ghoul’s Ball at Sharonville High; the night I met Wolfgang. He was dressed as Dracula and when he whispered that he wanted to suck my blood, I knew he was special. The song playing became our song. 62 years later, 59 of those as man and wife, the memories are just as fresh as that night.

“It’s just a record dear,” I share keeping my memories to myself.

The Maple Street Shindig
By: Melissa F.

It was time once again for the “Annual McFadden Halloween Extravaganza”, so named by the host. Obligingly, the whole neighborhood would attend. Over the summer Bob had learned Photoshop so he decided to take the party to a new level: a souvenir photo based on costumes. Louise and the girls were reluctant guinea pigs.
They thought last year’s “extravaganza” had gone as low as it could: “dress as a farm animal” where everyone had to finish every sentence with the sound their animal made. Since there wasn’t much talking or mingling, they had hopes this year’s event would be cancelled. No such luck for the McFadden clan…or the neighbors.

Veiled Perdition
J. Arns

Little did Melanie know that she was invited to the castle for more than a festive ball; and this would be her last. Ironic that she enjoyed the polka in the arms of her seemingly magical and alluring partner. Her naivety, surpassed only by her beauty, drew her into the lurid underworld of forbidden passions. She arrived in the small burg an innocent tourist, unaware of the macabre events which forever marred many a damsel before her. Poor Melanie. Never would she leave the epitome of hell into which she was thrust to return to the safe and loving arms of her fiancé. She would instead remain a prisoner of the castle - forever.

The Dance
By Mark H.

Count Dracula loved to cha-cha. It helped him forget about the world out there that condemned him for the occasional little bite on the neck. But he was not nearly as confident as everyone assumed he was. In fact, he was quite shy, but he had to keep up appearances. All he wanted to do was ask that beautiful creature to dance. “Does she even know I exist?” he thought. His heart pounding, a bead of perspiration on his forehead, he spread his cape, bared his sharp canine teeth, and nervously blurted, “Hi, I’m Drac, would you please dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered. “Let’s cha-cha.”

Trading Jam
By: Shay

Montreal in the fall nipped at Genevieve's face. Life bustled at the farmer's market where she was stationed, selling her family's famous jams and jellies. She moved her hands in her pockets. She saw familiar faces.Bob was not familiar. Sure, Hollywood used Canada for its backdrops. But normally, its stars didn't stray off the set for preserves.He saw her.His swagger. His persuasion. His charisma. His new star -- Genevieve -- was hooked.She played his role.Montreal in the fall nipped again. The poster that hung on her bedroom wall showcased a moment in time when she traded jam for a life that never gelled.

Back At Home
by Brad W.

Rod walks into the kitchen and gives his wife an exhausted, obligatory kiss on the cheek. He tosses the newly pressed LP on the table. It clinks against the saltshaker. His wife stops peeling her newly picked carrots and looks toward the noise infraction.

“Rod! You’re new album! I didn’t know it was finished!” She says, excited and hurt at the same time.

“It’s not. The pizzicato is still all wrong. It reeks of Stravinsky. It’s trite, unoriginal garbage.” Rod opens the fridge and waits for his wife to affirm him.

“Stravinsky would never think of doing Transylvania polka.” She wrongly encourages.
“Exactly.” Defeated, he grabs the milk. “Nobody would."

This Moment
By: Jenny S.

Dracula nervously whisked away the beads of sweat that had begun to form on his pale forehead. His clammy hands shook as he ensured his perfectly gelled hair was still in place.
"You can do it. You can do it, brother", Dracula muttered to himself as he swung open the gymnasium doors and stepped onto the freshly waxed wood floor. The smell of sweaty teenagers hung densely in the air.
Ever afternoon he had holed himself up in his room practicing for this hour. Sure, there had been "The Monster Mash" and "Werewolf in London", but no one had ever seen or heard something as daring as "The Dracula Cha-Cha".

Polka Nights
By:Tres K

Vlad looked at the old polka album fondly. Those certainly were halcyon days, he thought ? Friday nights at the Moose lodge, Saturdays with the Elk?s. And the women? their long hair barely hinting at beautiful necks beneath. He?d done a lot of dancing over the years; formal colonial balls, jitterbugging at the sock hop, on the Ballroom floor in a tux. Now it was Salsa. He liked the beat and the ponytails certainly gave a nice view, but nothing was hidden; the nakedness left no mystery, no hint at things to come.Maybe it was the hair, maybe it was the beer? he still longed for those Polka nights.

Cha-Cha-Ching!
By: Christopher D

The class sat anxiously in their seats awaiting the announcement. Life was about to change for one of these ghouls. Miss Fortune walked through the classroom door, and peered out over the students. Frank was nervously tightening his bolts. She could see Marcus Mummy had already sweat through his dressings. She made them wait long enough. It was time."The winner of this year's 'Name The School Pageant After A Student' musical is...the Count!"Dracula jumped to his feet and let out a yelp. He knew he was suddenly $500 richer and now had to meet with the local composer, Bob McFadden and put the finishing touches on the Cha-Cha.

Thursday Juicer: Readin' is good

2008-09-04T14:37:00.000-07:00

My apologies on the latency of this Thursday's tidbit of inspiration. I am on vacation. I sat out on a lake reading Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union. If you've yet to read anything by the Pulitzer Prize winning, Mr. Chabon I highly suggest you pick up The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. It's a dazzler. Anyways, all that reading is maybe what reminded to find this little commercial and share it with you. It's pretty cute. Can I call it cute? Perhaps it's been awhile since you've spent a few hours in a good book. Perhaps this weekend could be a good time to get back on that wagon. It's either that or "pre-season" college football.

#003

2008-09-01T11:35:00.000-07:00

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!

**********************************************************
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

The Thursday Juicer

2008-08-28T10:48:00.000-07:00

Every day of thurs. we're going to post a little something something to get your creative juices flowing. Today's Juicer is some short story advice from Kurt Vonnegut. It's good gravy. Enjoy.

#002

2008-08-25T08:20:00.000-07:00

We received some feedback that posting two stories wasn't enough. The people want more. The people are hungry and apparently two flavorful fiction bites aren't satisfying enough. So we'll feature one and then under that give you some more. Sound fair? Send us an email to join the madness. New post every Monday.

Daydream Believer
by Jenny S.

Natasha had dreamt about this moment for 20 years. While other girls had drooled over Barbie’s Dreamhouse, Tash gawked into her full-length mirror; covered in bold streaks of makeup, and clothes she had outgrown 20 months previous. A turn this way, that way. Strike a pose. Work it.

And the auditions! Lose some weight; wear tighter clothes. Headshots being taken by ugly men with thick accents and even thicker mustaches.

But finally – Natasha’s dream of being an Extra had come true. Granted, she’d been standing in this position for four hours, wearing ridiculously short attire, clutching the umbrella. But to Natasha, she might as well been holding a Golden Globe.

Gimme some more...

#001

2008-08-18T07:02:00.000-07:00

We're off and running. Thanks to everyone who submitted. The current plan is each Monday we'll feature new stories here on this blog and immediately send out the next photo via email. If you didn't receive that email and want to join this experiment, drop us a line: 110words.admin@gmail.com

The two feature stories show great contrast in style and content. Hope you enjoy. Looking forward to what you send in this week.

Run for the Gold
by Mark H.

Although Elmer Ploddin and Merle Swampy were the Cinderella Team of the 29th Olympiad, their hopes for Olympic gold were dashed in the finals of the Synchronized Beach Traffic Directing competition. Ploddin and Swampy had forged their partnership in the crucible of rush hour traffic in Rabbit Hash, Kentucky.

Former Olympic gold medalist Armsa Wavin dissected Ploddin and Swampy’s performance. “As you can see, Swampy landed in the surf with both feet for an immediate five tenths deduction,” said Wavin. “You can step on the line between surf and turf, but the water is out of bounds.”

It was a sad day for the fans in Rabbit Hash.

Unfathomable
By Jennie O.

Swirling, Dark, and Cold
the depths were unknown
Yet she dove deeper

Blackness, Waves of isolation
pressure stole her breathe
Uncomprehending she questioned,
explored,searched and dove deeper

Darkness reigned.
Pressure Rose.
Everchanging tides stilled in the deep.

Reaching out she felt no limits to these depths.
Weightlessness. Her chest swelled.
Tears of exhaustion mingled with the sea.
The Red tide abated.

Rhythmic beating of the waves, warmth, light,
Sound emerged as she surfaced.
She was beckoned "Come come Forgiveness is the LAW of the land!"

Example

2008-08-13T15:25:00.000-07:00

No Escape
by Brad W.

With his plum-sized eyes, Tunnellove searches for his maniacal trainer. His jockey, Santo, sits crouched underground asking TL what he sees. "It's either a bahmistfah or a pathetic game of hide and seek....I can't tell." Santo asks if they have nets or tranq guns or suspicious demeanors. Tunnellove shakes his head no. "Then lets ride!" shouts Santo. TL just stands there. Not even a flinch in response to Santo's friendly slap. He just feels overwhelmingly safe. Comforted by the surrounding cool earth. The hunched-over jockey rests his head on TL's mane and says, "I know...I know....you'd rather wait...."