Sunday, September 7, 2008

#004

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, September 4, 2008

Thursday Juicer: Readin' is good

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.

Monday, September 1, 2008

#003

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

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





Untitled
By: Natalie S.


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

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