Thursday, July 24, 2014

Two Brothers and a Wedding

Finish That Thought: #2-3 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and [decay], assail [me] as [I] approach the table.
Special Challenge: Include a deception that backfires

Photo courtesy of jusone @
The scent of wedding cake, flowers, and champagne assail them as they approach the table. In matching black tuxes with paisley print vests, burgundy bowties, and silk cummerbunds, the Winthrop brothers slither inconspicuously past evening gowns and rented tuxes to the laden buffet. Upon it rests silver platters of fresh fruit mostly of the exotic variety, two large crystal bowls boasting freshly tossed salad, and towering tiers of dainty crab cakes, lobster canapes, and bacon-wrapped scallops.

Percival Winthrop rubs his long fingers together with glee before picking up a porcelain plate. “What a feast we have today!” he chortles to Wilfred. His twin twirls his sophisticated whiskers as a smile stretches from ear to ear.

“Indubitably, my dear Percival.”

“Have you tasted the champagne yet?” Percival asks while emptying the scallops from the top of one tier onto his plate.

Wilfred pats his lumpy cummerbund and his grin widens to encompass half his head. “It is sublime. Of course, I would not expect any less from the van Hortons.”

Percival’s hand hovers over a crab cake. “Dearest Wilfred, you know the bride’s family?”

“Read about them, read about them,” Wilfred assures Percival. The crab cake joins two others and the scallops as a buxom lady dripping in furs and diamonds thrusts herself between the brothers to unload a tier of its lobster canapes. She eyes Percival’s plate and chuckles.

“You eat like a van Horton, but you don’t look like one!” she observes.

“We’re merely indulging in the eating customs of the bride’s family to make them feel welcome,” Wilfred interjects.

“Ah, so you’re on the groom’s side?” the lady asks.

“Yes, dear madam,” Percival says.

“How are you related?” she queries.

“We’re brothers, madam,” Wilfred explains smoothly. “Identical twins, if you could not tell.”

“I mean to the groom,” she persists.

“Second cousins on his father’s side,” Percival adds. “To which side of the family do you belong, madam?”

“I am the groom’s mother,” she says pertly. “And I don’t recollect any second cousins on the list.”

“This is a sticky wicket,” Wilfred says with an arch to his brow and a twirl to his whiskers.

Percival slides the scallops into his jacket pocket, much to the surprise of the lady. “Shall we depart this scene, my dear Wilfred?”

Wilfred links his arm with Percival’s. “Indubitably, my dear Percival.”

Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Waiting Room

Finish That Thought: #2-2 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: [Many days had] gone by,and [he] remained [enslaved] in the [small cabin].
Special Challenge: Change the weather as the story progresses.

Half the day had gone by, and I remained sprawled across the thinly papered table in nothing but a stiff, backless nightshirt. Twice a woman in scrubs came to check on me and let me know the doctor would “be with me shortly.” I folded my hands over my abdomen and gazed at the florescent flickering over my head, silently counting the dead flies trapped inside. One, two, three, four, nope that one twitched, four, five, six...

‘That’s boring.’ I rolled my head to stare at the wall next to me and was surprised to see a window with a nice view of the parking lot. ‘That’s funny, I didn’t notice this room had a view when I walked in.’ I switched from flies to cars and made it to 17 before I couldn’t distinguish one from the other anymore. ‘The sun sure is hot today. I can see the heat just radiating off the hoods.’

There was nothing more to see out there so I raised my head a little to look at the jungle print that ran around the bottom panel of the stark white room. ‘Aw, what a cute baby elephant. And monkeys, can’t forget the monkeys. Oh, and there’s a tiger, and a gazelle, and an orangutan, and a green snake all twisted up in the vines hanging between the palm trees. How nice.’

I looked out my window again... and blinked. Storm clouds had rolled in and the rain battered the coloured leaves off the trees. ‘Wait... the leaves changed colour? It’s Fall? How long have I been in here? I’m imagining things.’ I went back to examining the wallpaper. ‘And there’s a whale, and a dolphin, and a jellyfish, and a lobster, and a starfish...’

A sudden crash jolted me onto my rump and I consciously tugged the paper about my torso, exposing more and more of me the more I tried to right it. ‘Oh dear me, I hope no one’s in the parking lot...’ I frantically turned to the window only to find snow pelting the glass in large, smearing snowflakes. Snow?!? ‘All right, that does it-- this doctor is taking too dang long of a time getting here.’

I swung myself off the table and started stumbling about the room in search of my clothes, but I couldn’t find them. Panic constricted my throat. When did they take my clothes? The walls caved in around me and stars clouded my vision as my world spun. Trapped in the doctor’s office! Hands emerged from the wall, hundreds of hands, grabbing my shoulders, groping my feet, and pulling me down, down, down into the dark abyss and there was nothing I could do. Years must have gone by and this... this was the end!

“Ms. Keister, I’m sorry to keep you waiting...”

I opened my eyes. There was no window, my clothes draped across the chair, and the parchment gown still covered as little as it ever did.

“Dang right, you are.”

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Teacher, Teacher

Finish That Thought #2-1 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt:  [He] paused and said, "[Fine], [inspire] me," arms crossed and eyebrows raised in disbelief [that I could do any such thing].
Special Challenge: Macgyver[ism]
Festive Challenge: Include one or more party items

He paused and said, "Fine, then teach me," arms crossed and eyebrows raised in disbelief that Courtney could do any such thing.

“I will!” she retorted, shoving an empty cardboard box at him and pointing to the papers hanging haphazardly from the conference room ceiling. “In the meantime, put that 6 foot 7 of yours to use and take Cassiopeia and her friends down.”

A slow smirk seeped across Jamison’s lips as he took the box from his assistant. She was so much fun to rile up, and he seemed to do it naturally.

“Well? Wipe that stupid smile off your face and get to work!” she fumed. “You’ve tied up this room for long enough.” Courtney began scooping the mass of papers all over the tables and floor into another box. Jamison reached up to tug a paper off the ceiling, inspected it, dropped it into the box, inspected it some more, and then looked up at the next piece.

“Faster,” Courtney prompted.

“Why the hurry? It’s not like anyone ever uses this room.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s your playground!” she snapped. “You’ve held up two committee meetings and you’re about to postpone a third with your dilly-dallying.”

Jamison sighed and removed the second paper. “I make exceptional stick figures. Want to see?” he held it out to Courtney for her perusal. She snatched it from him and threw it into her box. Jamison pouted. “I worked hard on that one!” Courtney bit her tongue to keep from encouraging him with a reply.

“I really don’t see what the big deal is,” Jamison complained a little while later. He had succeeded in adding five more sheets to his box. Courtney had cleared off two tables and was working on filling her fourth box. “My back is starting to give out. I’m hungry. My arm hurts. Can I go to the bathroom?”

“No!” Courtney slammed a stack of papers into her box and paused to glare at Jamison. “You’re going to keep at this until you have your mess cleaned up.”


The following morning, Jamison slid his key into the lock on his back door entrance and twisted the handle only to find it wouldn’t budge. He frowned and tried again. It didn’t move. He backed up, aimed his shoulder, and shoved. Still nothing. That darn Courtney.... He walked around the building and entered the complex by the front door. He stalked down the hallway until his little office was in sight. And what a sight! It stopped him dead in his tracks, mouth gaping.

“Court!” he finally bellowed.

“Yes?” Courtney asked innocently as she pinned the last streamer in place. With a satisfied smile, she brushed her hands together and hopped of his desk to survey her work. His boxes of papers had been shoved against his back door. Streamers criss-crossed from wall to floor. Half-filled water balloons littered the floor, the filing cabinets, and rolled off his chair.

“Don’t worry,” she said pertly “you hardly use your office.”