Lucille Ball - The Day We Broke That Mould

I saw this photo circulating on Facebook today and it made me think about my marriage. Every character has their moments and Lucy certainly had hers. I loved that woman.

She is my character of the day because I've made her into another picture story on a few events which took place way back when. Thus, these photos capture the nature of my dilemma as it occurred.

Yes, all marriages, especially new ones, are chock full of potential pitfalls if you do not do this one thing which is necessary for any marriage to succeed, and that thing is called compromise. Even when you fight and your feelings are hurt, it's important not to make the other person the one who is always apologizing. You must, at times, concede you were half wrong.

Mistake number one I made was while at my girlfriend's house I mentioned this argument Tim and I had had and how furious I was with him, because now I was on the hook for giving daily updates. I think my words to her were along the line, "I'm sick of his shit. He's going to have to suck up to me." Okay, I was 20.

When Vicky's phone rang, she answered, and handed it to me, "It's Tim." She had this cheesy grin on her face and I took the receiver cautiously.

"Yes?" I could feel the tightness in my lips and the cold, harsh tone of my voice slapped at the silence which ensued.

"We need to talk."

My heart skipped and jumped into my throat. I knew at that moment, he wanted a divorce. "Really?"

"Yes. Can you meet me at the house during my lunch hour?"

"Sure," I'd said.

Our house was directly across from Vicky and Carlos' house, with about half the length of a football field in between. I walked home and waited for Tim to arrive.

When he did, I tried everything to calm myself, agonizing over the words sure to spill from his lips. But, before he could say anything, I blurted out, "I'm sorry, Tim! It's all my fault. I shouldn't have been such a sensitive child. Will you please forgive me?"

"Of course I will. I love you." Awww.

We made grilled cheese sandwiches together and tomato soup. Then he was off to work. Funny thing about my friend is she couldn't help herself, the nosy gawker. She probably watched out her kitchen window to see when Tim left the house. No sooner than he let himself out, my phone rang, "Girl, so tell me what happened!"

I had to let my girl know I stood strong. "You know, Tim's a good man, but I got him so wrapped around my little pinkie. He apologized, we snuggled a bit, and then he made me a hot, gourmet meal for lunch!"

"Oh, how sweet!" Vicky's voice fell away.

"Is that so?" I turned and it was Tim in the doorway, and from the fury in his face I could tell he'd obviously heard every word which had sprung from my juvenile pie hole.

"Um, I'll call you back later," I whispered into the phone at my dear friend, as if the whisper would wipe away any of my previous words. Then I quickly hung up the phone.

"I can explain," I offered Tim, but I had no idea what I could possibly say at that point. It just sounded better than saying nothing.

Tim turned for the door, opened it, and walked out. "Tim!" I called out but to no avail. I couldn't help but wonder why my friend couldn't have remained at her kitchen window long enough to see that Tim had obviously forgotten his keys and had made his way back to the front door. Fine friend she was, that one.

I tell you what. Talk about the groveling I had to do to make up for that one. I certainly learned my lesson and that was almost 27 years ago.

I can laugh about it now because when I think about Lucille Ball and Ricky Ricardo, I smile a little, knowing inside, there was one more couple to make before they broke that mould and that would be us.


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Word of the Day - Juno

Ju·no  [joo-noh]
noun, plural Ju·nos for 3.

1. The ancient Roman queen of heaven, a daughter of Saturn and the wife and sister of Jupiter: the protector of women and marriage. Compare Hera.
2. Astronomy . the fourth largest and one of the four brightest asteroids.
3. A woman of regal appearance or bearing.

Those are the official definitions at dictionary.com, but I'm not using them here. Why? Because I am having my bathroom remodeled by an exceptionally talented man and I've decided to make my own definition for this word and dedicate it to Javier. He's Hispanic, so this will only make sense if you use it in context.


Juno

1. An afterthought.
2. When something goes wrong or something changes in path or vision.

So, he's tiling my bathroom and he decides to go and buy extra bullnose tile pieces to edge the corners. When I step in to have a look, I'm surprised that he hadn't consulted me with the switch up in design.

He sees me and instantly goes into his explanation, "Juno, ease better like deez. She looking good."

"Thanks, Javier. It does look great, and I trust your judgement, but that's going to put a dent in my budget man, juno?"

Check out the photos of Javier's work. I will never use anyone else for my tiling. I still have a lot of work to do on this project!

Got rid of the vanity and added two pedestal sinks! I
think it adds depth. I can't wait to decorate. 

The bullnose tile pieces you can see on the wrapped
corners. Um, $8.00 per piece. lol

Tile is done. Waiting for the glass guy to
come and install the shower walls.

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Photo Story - My Vacation in the Bahamas

We're back!


Just a brief lesson to you about traveling outside the United States -- You will be roaming the entire time!

I didn't realize how much I would miss my texting and being able to instantly send photos to friends and family. But, at least now I am able to share a little of the Bahamas with you, because my character of the day is Miss Eloise. Well, that's what I'm calling her as I didn't get permission to use her real name because I didn't know I was going to blog about her until just now. No, really. I didn't.

Miss Eloise is an 82 year old Bahamian woman who has lived her entire life in Georgetown, Bahamas, which is where we stayed (at the Sandals Emerald Bay resort). It's a place I will recommend to anyone planning to make that trip. It's the most popular resort in Georgetown according to our guide, Miss Eloise.

View from our room

When she first loaded us up into her large SUV at the airport and before she proceeded forward toward the resort, she paused and said in her thick Bahamian accent, "Welcome to the Bahamas." Her voice was crackled with age, but she seemed well animated and passionate about her country. It was dark out, so I couldn't see her well enough to tell her age, but the shaking in her voice gave me a little hesitation and I was honestly hoping she wouldn't keel over while driving us to the resort.

She didn't keel over. We made it!

She gave us each a business card with the name and number to her taxi services. We wouldn't pull this card out until the last full day we were to stay on this beautiful island. When we called her, she was delighted to pick us up and take us out to the docks where we would ride in a water taxi to Stocking Island, but first she showed us around the surrounding areas and gave us a little history of the place.

Miss Eloise's accent was so beautiful, and with the age and wisdom in her voice, I felt mesmerized. It was like I was in a movie and the narrator was right beside me walking me through it. Then I realized I wouldn't have wanted anyone else narrating but her.

A small, brown snake slithered between two planks on the walkway leading toward the ancient tombs we'd come to witness. I stopped, "Is it safe to go back there?"

"It's okay, darling." Her accent strung out the word darling and it reminded me of Eva Gabor in Green Acres. "Those snakes won't harm you."

They didn't harm us, but they were everywhere. Even one popped out of a stony piece of ruin at the base of the tombs. I'm not lying. I have the picture to prove it. See, I knew you might question me on this. I was close enough to get some detail.

They should have named the place Tomb of the Snakes!

When we were finished touring the area of Georgetown, Miss Eloise drove us to the water taxis and called out to a large Bahamian man, "Elvis, darling! Take my friends to the island, will you man." And he did. He asked what time to pick us up and we told him around 3:00 p.m. because it was only 10:00 a.m. and we wanted to enjoy all the stuff there was to do and discover on Stocking Island. Then he nodded and left.

Let me share this with you. Stocking Island isn't like the boardwalk of things to do like we have in the States. When you go to an attraction here in the US, there are actually things that "attract" you as in things to do. Remember this, because the only thing to do on Stocking Island is hang out at the Chat n' Chill…when it's open, which it was not.

Stranded with nothing to do!

I think everything would have been fine had we arrived when the place was open. It was as if we were on a deserted island, only there was an audience to watch us as we wandered around in awe that we had absolutely not a thing to do. Yes, there were sailboats anchored in the water, EVERYWHERE! And there were probably people on those boats laughing their asses off at the only two people on the entire island, looking dumbfounded as we certainly felt.

However, no worries! After about an hour of wandering around, we went back to the Chat n' Chill and thank the heavens above there was a boat and some people unloading supplies of food and beer and marching them up the beach and into the small building that is the Chat n' Chill.

Nothing to do but take photos

"Excuse me, but what time do you open?" Tim asked one of the unloaders.

"Eleven O'clock," the kid offered as he marched up the steps.

I looked at my watch. Yes! It was 11:15 a.m. so we went inside and got a Diet Coke. When I asked about food, the bartender told me the kitchen wasn't open yet and they needed another hour to prepare. So, there were two things to do at that moment. Hang out with my husband in the Chat n' Chill and drink a Diet Coke. Ain't that fancy. You know me. I didn't care that it was before noon.

"Bartender? I think I'll have a Kalik Light." If there's one thing I know how to do when there's nothing else around is have a good time.

And finally, to drink some Bahamian beer...

Cheers!

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Write What You Know

If the following video is the reality of today, no wonder we turn toward fiction in order to escape it. I bet when the guy left the courtroom, he still had no idea why they lost. Sad. Really sad. He's my character of the day. Watch the video, and then my post is after.

The advice I've heard over and over again through the years is that we should write what we know. I think for the most part, this is true for non-fiction. I'm not going to write a book about how to fix cars if I don't know how to fix cars. I know how to use HTML, CSS, and Java to develop applications and websites. But, I don't want to write about application development. I don't want to write to teach, I want to write to entertain. Make sense?

I want to write fiction! I want to write about things I don't know. I've never murdered anyone, but I can imagine how I'd feel if I were fixing to get caught after having done so. How would I feel if I'd woken one morning and realized I'd hit someone with my car while in a drunken stupor? Would I turn myself in?

Probably, but not until I'd spent a great deal of time trying to rid myself of the guilt, telling myself nobody would ever find out. I know exactly how conflicted I'd be, and you'd be lying to yourself if you say you'd feel any differently. It's called the human psyche, and you have it if you're not a sociopath.

Of course, you'd never drive drunk! That would be illegal. But that doesn't mean your character shouldn't. Let them run someone over. If you've done your job to make your character likable, your reader will instantly feel what any human being would feel.

The guilt. The fear. The dreadful thought of spending a good part of life in prison, away from children and family. Because I'm human, it is a given that I can reason and appeal to other humans in this way, and therefore, I am writing what I know.

But Diane, how do the kids in the video relate to this post?

They don't. They are just a reminder to us all that Dumb and Dumber things don't just happen in fiction. Besides, I thought it might entertain you. Until next time...

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Guest Post by Gator, The Malinois

Me and Gator, The Malinois

As you may or may not know, one of my characters in Precinct 9 is a Belgian Shepherd named Benjamin. The idea of Benjamin came from a real life Malinois named Gator.

His birthday was yesterday, and he made a list of ten reasons why he believes he shouldn't be here, most are death defying feats.

My guest blogger today is Gator, the Malinois. Please follow the link and like him on Facebook!

Take it away, Gator!


Today is my 10th birthday! I'm amazed I've made it to this age. In honor of my age, here are 10 reasons why I should not be here:

1. I jumped into a large, very fast, very cold river at 10 weeks old. My person had to jump in, swimming hysterically to catch me.
2. I bit that same person of mine over a chicken breast at around 1 year old. If you've met her, you'd know why I was lucky to survive. 
3. I broke my upper canine tooth and part of my jaw at 1.5 years old. The recovery meant absolutely no biting of things. This nearly killed me. 
4. I've eaten LOTS of things that I shouldn't have.
5. I've run into, under and through even MORE things that I shouldn't have. 
6. I've broken bones playing fetch. Consequently, I'm no longer allowed to play fetch. I'm told this is because I "lack self preservation", but this still makes me very sad. 
7. I've been kicked/hit/slung around and generally beat up by lots of people. But, I mean, I was biting them. So... Meh... Totally worth it. 
8. I seized an opportunity with an unmanned, open bag of dog food. Carpe foodem. It was delicious... ALL of it! I also bloated and nearly died. Again, totally worth it. 
9. Pretty sure I should have been arrested by animal control on a few occasions. 
10. I tried to jump off a 12-foot rooftop one time. Details of how I ended up on said rooftop are irrelevant.

Thank you, Gator!

Now, I open the floor for questions. Please ask questions so you will know why Benjamin came to be!



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The Unwieldy Realtor - Character of the Day

The unwieldy Realtor is my character of the day. Why? Because I'm picking my jaw up from off the floor as I'm writing this. I'm dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. I'm literally at a loss for words, so maybe I should just start from the beginning?

My son sends me a listing on Trulia.com. It's a 3 bedroom, 2.5 bath condominium located in the same complex as the 2 bedroom, 1 bath unit we purchased a couple of years ago. I'm pretty familiar with the complex and go there often to collect rent from our tenant or to check on the property.

With a $37,000 list price, I'm guessing we can knock off a couple thousand from that. It would need some work, a few upgrades maybe, and I'm in business. I send my email to the listing agent and receive a rather quick response:

From: mariela

Sent: Monday, December 9, 2013 4:59:51 PM

Subject: 2731 Blairstone

Good afternoon,

I received your email that you are looking for help with this property mentioned above.

I will be very glad to assist you with your questions.

Looking forward to hear from you soon,

Mariela

Nice enough, right? So I send my response:

From: Diane Carlisle
Sent: Wednesday, December 11, 2013 3:26 PM
To: mariela

Subject: Re: 2731 Blairstone

Yes, I would like to view the property.

Thanks

So far, this exchange is quite pleasant and I'm really anxious to get started on my new venture in acquiring investment property, you know, to secure my future income a bit. I get a response back, also quick:

On Dec 11, 2013, at 3:30 PM, "mariela" <mariela> wrote:

Diane,

Are you going to finance this property or pay cash? More likely the property has to be purchase cash for the condition of the place.

Are you working with any Realtor to help you write an offer?

Looking forward helping you with your home,

Mariela

Now I'm a little irritated, but we'll see how she responds. I'm clearly looking for a date and time.

From: Diane Carlisle
Sent: Wednesday, December 11, 2013 4:10 PM
To: mariela

Subject: Re: 2731 Blairstone

I'm not working with a realtor. If the price is right for the property I would be paying cash.

Thanks.

She responds with this:

RE: 2731 Blairstone
Sent By mariela  On:Dec 12/11/13 4:52 PM

Diane,

what do you mean if the price is right? The price of the property is $35,000 and this is a bank owned where you will need to be having the proof of cash or loan.

Before I show you the property there is a form that needs to be sign, and you will be required to wear a mask to go inside for the condition of the place.

I can show you the property tomorrow at 2:15 pm.

Sincerely,

Mariela

GOBSMACKED! I'm telling you. Why is this property even on the market? And why did you call it a home??

"Looking forward helping you with your HOME" 

It's not a home! It's a cesspool of filthy, disgusting mold, and you shouldn't be able to advertise this piece of crap!

Wow...

</rant>




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Don't Just Get Drunk - Get Ugly

This is an old post I had to remove because the Facebook embed video functionality broke. Now there's a link instead. Watch, listen, and enjoy.

Today's Character of the Day, The Bull Rider!

Well, I'm heading out on vacation for the next two weeks. I'll still post when I have a chance, but I wanted to leave you with this video. But Diane, it doesn't have anything to do with writing or making progress!

You're right, it doesn't. This guy apparently isn't making ANY progress. But since this was taken at Coyote Ugly in Panama City Beach while on vacation, I thought it a nice reminder of how much fun it will be to vacation again after a whole year! Now THAT's progress.

Anyways, enjoy the video. In case you're curious, I admit, that is me you will hear, laughing hysterically. Signing off and wishing you well!

If the video doesn't display, no worries. See it here.

In case you're wondering why we were recording and laughing, it's not because he wasn't making progress in his attempts to ride the bull. I rode that bull the same evening. Trust me, it's hard! The fun in it all was he claimed to have ridden one in Texas...of which he boasted having held on for 6-8 seconds. Imagine our shock! :D



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The Pissed Off Mommy - Character of the Day

I saw this circulating on Facebook the other day and it pissed me off. This sounds condescendingly preachy, but I understand the sentiment.

All too often we see out-of-control children, but you have to ask yourself this: What are your surroundings when you encounter such unruly shits? Is there a proliferation of brats pouring into our streets that you must call out ALL parents in general? I think not!

Those of us who raised our children in loving and caring environments so they may develop into productive members of society, may find this a little off-putting or offensive, only because we view things differently now that we've had children and understand the often under appreciated demands of parenthood.

My response as a mother of two beautiful and respectful adult children:

1. We never finish with them, okay?
2. We teach our children tolerance, whereby they may live peacefully among those disrespectful and classless shits raised by other people.
3. If you don't have children or are a parent of an unruly, classless shit, remember this: When you become an elderly member of society, you may need assistance from one of our grown children, whether he or she be a doctor, a nurse, or an assisted living coordinator. Please remember to thank us for never being finished. 

Tip: Respect is not taught, it is earned. Here's a helpful video. Please watch, learn, and practice before you preach!

Signed,

The Pissed Off Mommy

Are You Googling That? My Character of the Day

So, I'm next in line at Walmart, placing my groceries on the conveyor belt while the bagger and cashier are having a conversation. After I place the last item on the moving piece of rubber, I look toward the automatic glass doors and notice the sky churning out a few ominous looking clouds.

This worries me, because we're planning to take the boat out on the river, and showers are not welcome. I pull out my iPhone and check the new weather radar app I downloaded last weekend (it will eventually become a favorite iPhone app).

The bagger stops bagging my things and says, "Are you Googling that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you Googling that?"

"Googling what?"

The cashier chimes in, "Are you Googling dark chocolate versus white chocolate?" A look of anticipation flickers across her face, eyes stabbing me with more urgency than when my husband prods me for sex.

"Why would I be Googling that?"

I ask this because I cannot fathom why dark chocolate versus white chocolate would suddenly pop into my head, and I am even more perplexed by the thought that the Walmart staff would know precisely the moment this thought occurred. Like, really?

They both start to talk, but then the cashier finishes, "We were just talking about how dark chocolate is healthier for you than white chocolate." She holds up a chocolate covered pretzel as evidence, and in one swoop, pops it into her mouth.

I'm stunned. Was I involved in this conversation and not aware? Did the bagger and cashier at some point invite me into their conversation and perform some ritual which has now rendered me void of any memory of said conversation?

I pull out my debit card to pay for my items. Then I offer my input, "No, I'm not Googling anything. However, if you eat enough of either of those types of chocolates, you'll get fat, and that comes along with so many health problems like type II Diabetes, gallstones, coronary artery disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and sleep apnea."

They both look at me and there's this long, silent pause. It was like I'd just come out of a trance, with the cashier mid-bite into a pretzel and the bagger with one hand in a plastic Walmart bag.

Something niggles at me and I realize both ladies are obese.

Note: Characters of the Day on this blog are inspired by true happenings. I've withheld names to obscure the identities of the stupid people so that I don't get sued in some stupid manner which our government deems a viable path to redemption for stupid people.

If you believe you're one of the stupid people mentioned in this blog, I pray that you run for government some day and win, so that you may repair your stupidity through the process of empowerment, which will give you a voice we all pretend to admire in hopes we don't "ourselves" become stupid people.

I love you, Blog-o-sphere!!

A Day at the Gym

My husband and I designated Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays as our after-work "hit the gym" days. We'd been in our new routine for about 2 weeks. He already has a daily lunchtime routine at the YMCA, with workout buddies. So now he gets to work out twice as much. That's how I keep him looking great!

I don my usual workout sweatpants and over-sized black t-shirt with "USMC Marines" scripted in blood red around a really angry looking bulldog. Eat your heart out Sylvester Stallone.

YouFit, on Mahan Drive, has a wide selection of resistance machines, cardio machines, and free weights. Though pretty crowded during the week, there's always an open machine when you arrive.

I check my watch after performing a few running and jumping warm-up routines. Tim was supposed to meet me after he'd gone home to walk the dogs. Sure enough, he pulls in at exactly 5:30 p.m.

I scan the area to see how many of my favorite machines are open and my eyes lock with those of a bald man with a goofy grin. His eyes light up, and he shifts back and forth on the heels of his feet like Gomer Pile with a secret.

Why is he looking at me like that? He looks at my t-shirt. I decide he's probably illiterate, so he must be fascinated with the angry bulldog. The man's smile disturbs me. I get a twinge of Déjà Vu. This is a terrible feeling, and I think something is getting ready to happen, something bad. If he doesn't quit staring at me with that goofy grin, Tim will punch him out. Then, the man will be a goofy, grinning, illiterate, bald man—in pain.

“Hi, Mrs. Carlisle,” he says. “How are you?”

I don't know what makes it happen, but the goofy grin fades like Etch a Sketch art when you shake it. Gomer Pyle is gone.

Embarrassment forces me to smile, but I probably look more horrified than anything.

"It's me,” he says.

He waits on me to speak, but I’m speechless.

He makes like he's using a spray gun with one hand while holding a canister with the other, "Your exterminator—remember?"

Then, I recognize him. Of course it’s him! A nice young man, too. Always calling 30 minutes in advance. Always courteous with the "Yes, ma'ams" and the "No, ma’ams”. Never late.

Then I realize why you shouldn't have your characters meet in another story. I was perfectly happy knowing him as my exterminator. It wasn't a pleasant experience meeting him, in full workout gear, ready to pump iron instead of his insecticide sprayer.

Have you ever known someone from one place and met them in another place,  which made them seem out of place?

Character of the Day, My Crazy Neighbors

Today I read a Facebook status of an ole high school friend. It was something along the lines of being grateful that she has wonderful neighbors. This got me thinking about my own neighbors whom I’ve had the displeasure to endure for several years. I started writing a comment, which turned into an epic rant, and so I decided rather than clutter her beautiful status with my obvious discourse, I would instead create this post on my blog.

Many years ago, when our neighbors moved in, there was the occasional chitchat across our respective lawns when leaving for work, arriving home from work, and checking the mail. That all changed when we put up our privacy fence.

The privacy fence is a required structure by the City of Tallahassee for any resident owner of a pool. Of course, we are law-abiding citizens and since we were having a pool installed, we erected the 6-foot standard privacy fence. That’s when things turned ugly.

It was as if the neighbors felt jaded, the privacy fence being our statement of drawing boundaries. Why does this happen? I don’t know, but it does. It doesn’t matter. Now we experience the full onslaught of Boundary Wars. I should pitch a reality show on this one.

First, there was the surveyor. I guess they wanted to ensure we hadn’t erected a portion of the fence on their property. We acknowledge and shrug it off. However, that wasn’t enough for them. A conciliatory nod and we figure things will be fine. Nope.

The next thing we realize, our neighbors are mowing their lawn twice as often as they used to, almost three times per week. The husband, like clockwork, moves back and forth across their lawn, a look of disdain upon his face, laboriously pushing the mower in order to get a quarter inch trim on their grass. One thing I notice is the caution he takes when pushing the mower down the property line, which separates our lawn from theirs.

How peculiar! Why were they so worried about getting it perfectly cut, right on the property line? After all, there was no fence in the front. We decide it’s just a quirk and when our grass is ready to mow, we mow our lawn up to the point where they distinctly, and with much effort, marked their property. It gets worse.

At some point, Tim was rolling up our garden hose and when it got a kink in it, he yanked and twirled it and about two feet of the hose plopped over onto our neighbor's lawn. You'd have thought we cast a spell of fireball explosion on their property from the looks on their faces.

A week later, we arrived home from work and the crew chief for the group we hired to rebuild our back deck approached my husband and profusely apologized for having stepped in our neighbor’s yard. After he explained the frenzy with which the female of the house, our illustrious neighbor, spiraled into when he’d attempted to carry a load of 2 x 4s into our backyard, I realized we were dealing with more than just bruised egos here.

The crew chief explained that an hour later she came out with sandwiches and iced tea for all of them and apologized for her outburst. She used this poor guy as a sounding board and went on about how me and my husband are inconsiderate, evil beings. This woman is badmouthing us to the people we hired to work on our home. WTF??!

Similar incidents have happened since, with the man we hired to paint our home, and with the lawn maintenance guy who parks his equipment trailer on the curbside. The best way to deal with this issue is to ignore our neighbors and their behavior.

They’re not hurting us, but it’s so obvious they are in some sort of distress about boundaries. I don’t want to approach either one because I believe it would only make things worse. Instead, I just tell people who visit us that our neighbors are a bit finicky about their lawn so please steer clear!

This picture tells me they are still hung up on boundaries. You can’t make this stuff up. This is why I write fiction. Because therein lies the truth!

What quirkiness do you deal with in your daily life? I'd love to hear from you. It would make me feel better about this dilemma.

The Importance of Reading in a Text Based RPG

Patrick slipped his headset into place, securing the ear piece and twisting the microphone closer to his mouth. He reached for his bag of Cheetos and grabbed a handful of the thin, corn nuggets, then tossed the bag aside.

Seconds later, Todd's voice streamed through the receiver, "First lesson of a text-based role-playing game is to find a target that will fight back and then see what happens after you attack it."

"Okay, so let's try that newbie farm you were telling me about." Patrick was anxious to get started. He wanted Todd to show him this mysterious new text-based game he'd been playing for the past six months.

"When you see a portal, just type enter portal and it'll teleport you to where I'm at in the game. From there, follow Marythtor. That's me. Oh, and don't forget to wield your weapon."

Patrick nodded once as an assurance to himself that he will follow and learn. Then he logged into the game.

####################

A portal

You enter the portal

You are transported through thin air and arrive at the Eastern Farm!

Marythtor, the swordsman

Marythtor opens a gate

Marythtor leaves east

You follow Marythtor east

You have entered the farmyard!

Marythtor, the swordsman

A Yellow chick

Marythtor looks at A Yellow chick

You look at A Yellow chick

You say, "I should attack the Yellow chick, right?"

Marythtor says, "That's up to you. But you'll never know unless you try it."

You attack A Yellow chick with your tiny fists

You are not wielding a weapon!

A Yellow chick bites you

You are gushing vital fluids!

You hit A Yellow chick with your tiny fists and do little damage

A Yellow chick bites you

You shrug off your mortal coil

You must pray before you can do anything else

You pray

You have been resurrected in the Temple of Vivoria

Marythtor enters the Temple of Vivoria

Marythtor laughs at you!

####################


Patrick placed a finger to his headset. "Tell me I didn't just die to a little yellow chick."

"That was freaking hilarious!” Todd’s laughter bellowed through. "Did you read the description? Dude, that chick was like seven feet tall. Who the hell attacks a seven foot bird without a weapon?"

Patrick removed his headset and spoke into the mouth piece, "Good night, prick."

The End

If you liked this, you should play Threshold.

Where To Get Inspiration For Your Writing

I couldn't find inspiration to write today, so we strolled around the flea market. It's a place where things happen, weird things. Sometimes funny things happen. It's not a world where many people consider spending their time on a weekend. 

If I'm not writing, this is where I visit in hopes of finding potential subject matters or situations I can include in my WIP. Talk about being on location. My expenses are minimal.

Have you ever considered a character like this one, maybe in some sort of romance novel? This I experienced at 9:00a.m. on a Sunday morning. I don't know whether he has a drinking problem or he's just soaking up the rays. I'm going with the latter for my inspirational post and Character of the Day. 

I have to use my imagination a bit, just to set the mood. Must remember to forget those socks, too. Look out ladies, me thinks he has the potential to be the next Christian Grey.

The Adonis

The sun's rays danced across his muscled torso, exposing a chiseled and tan eight-pack no woman could resist. The heat blanketed his body and forced tiny droplets of moisture from his pores. 

He lay there, skin glistening and inviting, oblivious to the woman who watched as every muscle in his taut body formed this exquisite monument before her. She wondered, oh did she wonder, what tautness lie beneath the netherworld of his groin.

Goodness! I need a change of location. This is killing me and I'm not getting anything accomplished. So, where are some of the places you visit for inspiration?  

A Big Black Woman Beat My Ass

Character of the Day

She looked like a large, black locomotive and she was heading right toward me, huffing and puffing heaps of warm air from her open mouth. Her large pink lips, held open by a mouthful of oversized teeth, bounced in unison with her voluminous breasts which also slung from side to side as she waddled down the aisle.

The holiday season called on folks near and far and we struggled with last minute Christmas shopping. The small aisle in the calendar store pitted me against the oncoming traffic, the huge black train. I moved sideways to avoid her, pressing my back against a wall shelved with calendars featuring bulldogs, kittens, and horses.

My shoulder bag did not quite make it out of harm’s way. The woman's fat arm brushed the purse in mid-air, sending it twirling into the shelf wall with a thud.

The noise immediately drew the attention of my daughter, now with a look of surprise on her face at my body pressed to the wall and this blob of a woman walking away.

"Scuse me," the woman said, waving a hand in the air as if she were shooing away a bothersome housefly. Without a glance toward me, she continued her shuffle down the aisle.

My daughter tells a different story today and it always starts out, "Oh my gosh! Did I tell you about the time this lady kicked my mom's ass and pushed her into a wall?"

Character Of The Day

On my way to work this morning, some guy driving a 2010 Mustang and smoking a cigarette for a stretch of about two or three miles, pissed me off and I'm talking royally pissed. It wasn't a road rage moment either. He didn’t cut me off or anything. Didn’t slam on brakes. Nothing like that. It started out innocent enough as I drove behind him listening to Lady Gaga’s Poker Face. I was genuinely fascinated by how he smoked his cancer stick.

I watched him with his left arm out the window, cigarette pinched between index finger and thumb. You’d have thought he was smoking a joint.  The arm didn't stay out long though. It seemed like every two seconds his arm would go back inside the car for a puff, then...arm back out the window, flick ashes, arm back in car two seconds later. This went on until I had to turn. However, right before I made my left turn, this guy chucks his filthy cigarette out his car window and it hits my car! WTF??

I have a convertible, so can you imagine what could have happened had I had my top down? That butt and its fiery tip might have managed to find their collective way into my car! Why are people so inconsiderate?

Okay, imagine this.

What if it landed on my lap and I swerved off the road and hit someone? Would it be my fault?

What if I was on an errand to retrieve a gallon of gasoline for a sweet old lady broke down on the side of the road somewhere? What if said cigarette butt found its way into my car then? I don't know. What if it maybe managed to ignite the gallon of gasoline I'd just purchased, leaving my husband a widower with two motherless children?

What if these were the 1980's and I'd just sprayed a fresh load of Aqua Net onto my big hair? What if the cigarette butt managed to find its way into my car then? Do you think my 80's style hair would ignite, leaving me wrecked on the side of the road because I'd tried to save my hair from melting off the top of my head?

That was the only character worth talking about today. Why? Because I was so pissed that I’ve remained in my office the entire day so as to not have to deal with people. I'll shake it off eventually, but for now, I better remain at a distance.