Doug

Have no idea where this one came from and there are a couple of made up words to replace butterneeper. A tad over the "low" limit, but heck its Think right?

Truncarticulated posies


Esoteric secrets locked away in the mind of an angel. An angel found on earth…

Wandering aimlessly through a golden meadow Shannon was searching for an obsolete plant that no one had come across for years. It was a truncarticulated posie and its bloom was as green as the grass in the full summer sun enriched by the rainforest storms that caressed its silky leaves. Quite by pure accident and incidental to our story Shannon was a shaman and the posie was desperately needed for her healing ritual. In quite a pixilated pattern she searched from one side to the next surely to find her ingredient.

There it was in the company of common posies sticking out like an onyx beacon shining brighter than the North Star. She carefully dug around what appeared to be a brown switch moss that clung to the plant and put the posie root and all into her basket.

Once back at her “laboratory” as she called it, she mixed one posie bloom with the scat of two elk, the egg from a Noxom frog and a pinch of bitterroot. It looked quite the mess, but it would serve its purpose as the concoction to heal the elder named Zerastatis. She applied her elixir to his trunk and dabbed a smidgeon on each fingertip and waited.

One hour later Zerastitis’s eyes opened slowly and a green gelatinous film oozed out onto his face. It was a success. He was healed. Shannon had cured him and once again mother earth had made one whole again.

mouse

midnightpoet---The pixilated trunk-- talk about obsessive compulsive. I could just see her lining everything up-- But, you sure got me at the end--I actually laughed out loud. What an unexpected ending !!!!!

giraffe

Great use of the list, Doug. Shamanism's the last thing I'd expect, but you nailed it in your own way.

marius

Oh Doug, you keep showing us new sides of yourself. It's delighting me! Very much like "truncarticulated" ... sounds so much like a natural history word. Great story!

mouse, you make me laugh. You see, I LAUGHED big time at the end of midnight's story but did I share that? No! But, yeah, something about that ending tickled me pink too. Hmmm.

marius

Someone sent an email today with this quote at the bottom. Since we seem to have a, um, generous representation of fear or scary in some of our TW stories (and hey, marius has written a few of them) thought some might enjoy the quote. It's credited to Chief Dan George.

"If you talk to the animals they will talk with you and you will know each other. If you do not talk to them you will not know them, and what you do not know you will fear. And, what one fears one destroys."

marius

On that note, I wrote the story below for Dragon’s last torch-carrying, but um, had submitted so many stories already. Anyway, really did work with a sort of “Doris” once. And now, having read the Chief Dan George quote, am seeing ‘Doris’ a bit differently. Isn’t life odd!


The Perpetrator

The brown-eyed woman sat sullenly in the cubicle, her i-pod cranking through jazzy beats of Van Morrison tunes. She felt nothing. She looked into a mirror and applied lipstick, dark red like maple leaves.

That was when Janine waltzed by in that dancing way of hers. What did she have to be so happy about? It was surely an act, the mystic talk, the wisdom and love. But, everyone liked her. That bothered Doris.

That evening, with the autumn moon shining in the windows, Doris made a plan for Janine, the girl with winning ways. Janine may be sweetness epitomized but that kind of sweetness hid something and Doris knew what it was. She knew exactly how her plan would work because she’d done it so often before.

She was so smart that those who did guess were afraid to say anything; they didn’t want the venom on them. They simply watched it happen with sadness, but not one of them ever intervened.

It took less time than Doris imagined. She must be getting better with her ‘innocent’ comments. In three weeks time Janine blew with a rage higher than Mt. Saint Helens and that is all most of them knew; Janine screaming things that would make a sailor blush. Security packed her out of there in nothing flat and Doris was Queen of the Cubicles once more.

She was amazed at her brilliance. An entire caravan of people had left because of her. But no one could prove it and no one dared to try.

giraffe

Awesome quote.

marius

Glad you like it, giraffe.

And now ... the story of ButterNeeper. Most of it is true. [Apologies to self, and others if needed, for not using word list or paying attention to word count!] : )


ButterNeeper

We had eaten dinner, put away the dishes, and because it was such a lovely spring evening, we decided to take the cats out.

The new cat, Puck, was not used to the harness and leash but he knew what they meant. The second I reached for them, he went crazy. He got so excited I could barely get the clasps fastened. When I finally got him set up, I looked for the calico.

She was lying on her mini lawn chair, pretending she didn’t know we were going out. That was when Brad came out and picked her up. Big mistake! (We take them as they come and she had come with claws!) After we got over that incident, and yes there was blood, three of us went into the back yard.

After a while, her royal highness, The Queen, decided to bring her lovely calico self outside. THEN, and only then, were we allowed to put the harness and leash contraption on her.

So there we were, the kitties feasting on what Dragon calls ‘grass salad,’ and Brad and me sitting in the arbor. The Virginia creeper had just leafed out which made it harder to keep track of the kitties. That’s why neither of us saw Ms. Kittypants (she has MANY names) get her leash snagged on the root. Nor did we see her wiggle out of her harness. (When did she learn to do that?) The thing we DID see was a mostly white beast fly up the ash tree in less than a second’s time.

We weren’t too worried because we figured we could tug on her leash to bring her down, but, um, where was it?

It got darker and later so Brad got the extension ladder. But, even using the picnic table and the ladder, the cat was too high up the tree. Finally Brad put the ladder back, and when carrying it off to the garage, I heard him say something unintelligible, and then “....ButterNeeper isn’t happy.”

I figured he had just invented a new name for Ms. Kittypants, aka, the cat also known as: The Queen, Her Royal Highness, Nutterbutter, Miss Priss and a few other names.

But, it turns out Brad had actually said something like, “The calico seems fine, but her keeper isn’t happy.”

Since then, Miss Kittypants has acquired a few more names but ButterNeeper did not become one of them.

Brad swears there must be an annual ButterNeeper Festival somewhere in the world. I looked on the internet, but it’s not listed. : )

marius

Okay, marius is done with her silliness for the night. Wishing all ThinkWriters find their muses and have fun writing! Sweet dreams to all!

giraffe

Marius, I've known a few Doris's too. The territorial ones who want their own extra power but have no right to it. Some are Jasons. Then the Queen of Cats mirrors that a little. You're weird. Take that! (Oh, I'm not).

giraffe

Trying to redeem myself (maybe not) 432 words w/o title. Used all words. followed the rules.

THE HAPPLESS CHILD

It was dark, muddy and dank but we trudged along anyway. Some mix of pride and desparation propelled us. The path ahead looked like pixels in this rain.

This whole mess began back in Paris when our firm was just growing. We were small potatoes in the banking industry, so we wanted to rub shoulders with the big boys. Looking back at the incident that put us in jail, of course we would have made different choices.

Our firm, 'Buttuer, Neepierre and Scattery', was only into low-risk investments. We were young and naive which made us perfect prey for the larger vultures. As much as we were trying to woo their attentions, they were already scheming back-door deals to jeopardize us for their gain.

The company we decided to merge with had major international clients. Our contract with them appeared to be solid. But they were using us in name only. If just we had known! They needed us to take the fall when the bottom fell out of their crooked dealings. Scattery and I were jailed and Buttuer left the country before the trial. Our "partners" doubled their profits and moved to Rio.

So here's me and Scattery - just out of jail - walking in the slop to who knows where. We have to take turns carrying the ugly green trunk that holds all of our posessions. Our wives had both left us. Ten years is a long time to wait. He would throw it over his back and I preferred to carry it on my head like an African or something. Ain't we a pair.

We came across a small village with an open pub. They always give you 50 francs out of prison and we didn't even have to speak. We made a beeline for the pub.

Free society at last! Women! Beer! Friendship! Song! My life could have ended there and I would die a happy man. We're singing an Edith Piaf song "No Regrets". I still remembered some of the words. Scattery was so wrapped around this barmaid, he was oblivious.

It was wonderful. The paintings, the light shining through the glasses. They even guaranteed us a room at their inn. Life had put us from finance to jail to bliss. Butteur knew of our release and was rushing to meet us. His carriage just pulled up.

Then we heard the tanks coming. Everybody scrambled. We heard gunfire. A man was laying dead on the street. Monsiuer Butteur was so bloody and mangled, we didn't even recognize him.

marius

Thanks for the smile this morning, giraffe! And, LOL .... 'Buttuer, Neepierre and Scattery!' (Haha, would never thought to use those words in French!)

You all are quixmickling me! Keep 'em coming!

marius

marius is not quite awake ... giraffe used ALL words and the word count! Round of applause please! : )

Okay, will just ask. Does it bother anyone if TW rules are, um, well, not strictly followed? Since no one has answered yet (impish giggle) here is revised version of Chapter II of "A Good Idea." : )


A Good Idea
Chapter II – James’ Truck

The dough was mixing up nicely. I figured the bread would come out of the oven just before James arrived. That was our bargain, home-made bread for James’ “acting debut” as my fiancé.

When he showed up, his girlfriend Jamie followed along in her own car. She was a saucy little thing with a big smile. She bounced right over to me and said, “I hear Donny was not too thrilled to meet your fiancé!”

“No,” I sighed. “He got pretty mad and I’m not sure that was the smartest way to handle things but ... well, you already know, don’t you?” I passed out green plastic iced-tea glasses and filled them. Then we cut into a loaf of James honey-wheat bread. He was getting two loaves. He piled his slice with apple-butter. I ate mine plain. We were sitting on the front porch. The sun was mixing through the leaves overhead, making a nice pattern on the wood. Dappled. A soothing pattern that seemed to smooth over events of other days.

James said, “Caroline, I know you don’t think Donny is dangerous but the things you’ve said, we’re worried about you living out here alone in the country. That’s why we brought two vehicles today. We think it’d be a good idea if I left my truck here a while. Would you agree to that?”

I almost started crying. “You would do that?” Both of them were looking at me with a kind of love I never saw from Donny. Yep, I’d made the right decision about dumping Donny.

“I’m not really worried about Donny,” I said. “But I have heard odd things and maybe your truck being here would prevent more drama. Yes, it probably IS a good idea! Listen to this: I ran into Rae-Lynne at the store yesterday. She’s the gal who lives next to Donny’s lake cabin so I hadn’t seen her and the first thing she asked was what happened. When I told her, she acted pretty agitated. Finally she said, ‘Donny said that YOU were pushing to get married and that’s why he broke up with you. He said you weren’t taking no for an answer so he had to break up on your answering machine, to make sure you understood!’ ”

James howled when he heard that. He smacked his blue jeans and sawdust puffed up in the air. He said, “You sure can pick ‘em Care-bear! I’m telling you, that man is pixilated.”

Right then we all looked up because we could hear a car coming down my gravel lane and there was no mistaking ButterNeeper. Then, the minute the car was in sight, James did something that totally caught me by surprise. He jumped up from his chair, grabbed me and gave me the nicest lip-lock I’ve had in a long time. I can’t remember the last time I’d been kissed like that, and since I could hear Jamie laughing in the background, I’m kind of embarrassed to say it, but I decided to just enjoy it. That man knows how to kiss!

Jamie told us later that ButterNeeper stopped in the road the minute James kissed me. She said the car just sat there and sat there. Then it turned around and left.

I went to sleep that night feeling very comfortable about James’ truck being out front. I also kept thinking about that kiss. Someday I’d find a nice man like James.

A few nights later Donny called. He said he’d tried to stop by a few times but every time he did, James’ truck was there. He wanted to know if James had moved in and I just said, “We ARE getting married.” Donny didn’t mention the driveway incident, but I knew he’d seen it.

The next month was sheer peace and Donny seemed to have given up but then came the weekend of May 16th and there was a big picture in the paper of James and Jamie in their wedding glory. Donny never read the social pages so I wasn’t worried, but later that night when the phone range, something told me not to answer.

I’m glad I listened to that ‘something’ because the message said, “Call me.”

Doug

giraffe: Great story (Happless Child). I liked the way you used the words and obscured them in the names of the characters and I definately didn't see that ending coming. Great job!

marius: RULES? I don't know, sometime I feel like being strict and staying dead on with the "words" and the "word count", but the way I write it kind of flows out. I do a lot of editing, but the way the words flow together or "tangle" make a big part of the story and sometimes you just can't do that in a restrictive environment. So there's one answer. Yeah!

giraffe

Doug. Thanks. I stole that twist from an Edward Gorey story by the same name. (Or was he Ogdred Weary by then). His 'Happless Child' was kidnapped and sold into slavery. The kid went through hell, starved and finally escaped his captors. When he ran into the street he was run over by his own parents who were still looking for him. He was so emaciated, they didn't recognize him. Gorey is cool. I only steal from the best.

giraffe

Sunday Funnies. I got all the list but didn't count words.

AT THE DOCTOR'S

"Mr. Smith, the prognosis is not very good. We think you may have Lenny's Jewish Syndrome."

"Oh no! Not that. When will you know for sure?"

"We're running more tests and the results will be in by next week."

"God, I pray it's only Gay-itis or Negroids. Have you checked for Mexiphilia?"

"At this stage we've ruled out Chinks and Islambargo. It may only be Feminosis. The symptoms are similar. Green, pixelated splotches on your trunk, fatigue, and the feeling that you're better than everybody else."

"But I AM, Doc. Can't you see that?"

"Well, Mr. Smith, You're a white hetersexual who's better than everyone. Is it possible you're a Cathoholic or have Pedophili-itis?"

"No, Doc, I'm totally normal. Can't you prescribe something until the test results are in?"

"Well, to improve your appearance, here's a salve for the green rash. Use it 15 times a day. Shower inbetween each application. And for the fatigue, I'm prescibing 'MANTEX'. It should give you more energy since the active ingredient is Methadrine."

"Gee thanks, Doc."

"I have to warn you that the side effects may include suicidal thoughts, extreme fatigue, swollen tongue, anal leakage and kidney failure. If you have an incident of violent vomiting, call our office immediately."

"Gee thanks, Doc,"

"I've been assured by the company who supplies this that very few people have the fatigue anymore."

"Yeah. I've seen ads for it on TV and you don't see scat messes on their pants."

"Yes, they are all totally normal. Be sure you don't mix MANTEX with anything illegal like marijuana. That could make you homicidal."

"Doc, you know I only get my drugs from you. But, er, the knee perspiration? Will this help that?"

"We'll see when the test results are in."

"Gosh, I hope it's not Lenny's or Feminosis."

marius

LOL, giraffe. This cracked me up! Sunday Funnies, indeed! Love MANTEX, although not really wanting to try it myself. The lists of diseases certainly seems to be a list of fears. We're you thinking that?

And, super LOL on the side-effects list! marius has a wish that when SHE rules the world (and, NO desire for that!) BUT ... should it ever happen, ALL advertisements for pharmaceuticals would be banned immediately! (Yes, I know, this is exactly why marius would never rule the world, her priorities are, um, askew?) Anyway, thanks for Sunday Funnies!!!!

marius

Now, we are at the half-way point of this challenge and ButterNeeper, the pixie, has informed me that all those who have not yet contributed a story, essay, poem, or other musings are in danger of getting the Pie-Eyed Pixilations. Yes, it shocked me too but apparently the Neep' and his clan get involved ANY time there's use of their favorite word.

I was told NOT to name names, (why I can't imagine: it's not like we don't know who you are), but it was whispered in my ear that since we are at the HALFWAY point, that stories that use HALF of the wordlist might be counted as serious contenders!

Of course, to make this fair, points will need to be divided by 2.73, added to .16, multiplied by 77 quixmickles, and subtracted by 2K lillybites ... but it IS still possible to get a decent score. [Oh, I'm sorry, you didn't know this was a 'scored' ThinkWrite? Ah well, I didn't know either until the pixies told me. You know how they are.] : )

marius

A Good Idea
Part III - Donny’s Ideas

Donny was puttering in his machine shop. He went to get tools from the trunk of ButterNeeper and that reminded him of how he’d helped Caroline with the loan of his car.

He’d just gotten home from Mass, and a lunch with his sisters. They were so glad he dumped Caroline! That girl was a mess: she got engaged to someone three days after Donny dumped her, and now THAT guy had dumped Caroline and married someone else! And, ALL of this happened in a month! The sisters told Donny he’d made a good decision. He smiled and felt proud of himself.

He WAS quite the catch. He had retail properties, a vacation cabin and a solid career. True, he was a bit out of shape and starting to bald, but that was expected with someone his age, and other than that, he was rather nice looking. Yes, he really was a catch. It was astonishing he’d made it to fifty without some woman snagging him. It made him smile.

The phone snapped Donny out of his self-assessment. He looked around his shop, tried to track the sound and found the phone just after the caller disconnected. It wasn’t Caroline. Oh well, it didn’t matter. He knew he’d get her back because she’d broken up with him before and he’d talked her out of it both times! He’d have to watch out though because Caroline was obviously in the market for marriage, wanted that “M.R.S. degree,” and he wasn’t going to let any woman push him into that.

He figured she’d be pretty broken up to be dumped two times in a row. He’d call and offer friendship. Caroline would like that and anyway, when you’re hurt and lonely you need a friend. He could even tell her, “Since we’re friends now, I can be more honest with you.” That would make her feel good.

But what about the psychologist? Thinking about that made Donny feel angry. He remembered when Caroline said, “My psychologist said the reason I was kind of picking on you the other night is because my needs are not being met. Donny, I think she’s right. Remember when you scheduled that party for the night I was returning from the conference? I wouldn’t mind if this was a one-time thing, but you are always doing this. I keep telling you I’m not the social butterfly, I need my down time, but it doesn’t’ seem like you ever hear me.”

Donny smiled to remember that conversation. He’d SEEN her with people. She was comfortable with them! If she was an introvert, then he was an atheist. No, that wasn’t their problem. Their problem was that Caroline wanted to control everything. She wanted to say when they’d see people and who they would see. He guessed most women were like that unless men set them straight. Suddenly Donny could see his mother screaming at his Dad, could remember how he felt seeing that for all those years.

Donny was never going to let a woman walk all over HIM like that!

Doug

This is pretty darn close to half way between the low and high "hard" word count. All the words are there in one form or another. You know how I like to "tangle" or is that "mangle" the word lists. Marius: I'm quite enjoying your "good idea" series and giraffe you keep me laughing that's for sure and you have quite a "set" to write that last one lol...

Captain Hargood

Descending into the abyss sparkling light once intense dims to a muted pixilated dot on the ocean floor. Wondrous creatures passing by the leaded porthole are now display cubes for specks of plankton microscopic, yet there. Many things survived the icy fall to the depths below, but the seven sailors were not among them. Treasures left behind in the darkness of a cavernous ship, soon to be relics of centuries past. The brittle bones popping from the pressure turning to silt that coats the rusty iron hull of the ghost ship. The incidental bumping of glasses still intact sends ringing chimes sounds that go unheard; the delicate crystal strobing prisms of rainbow hues onto the captains chamber walls.

Twenty days ago, Captain Hargood and six crew set out on an oceanographic mapping voyage hoping the churning storm waters of the Atlantic would harbor a variety of new animal species. Once they reached the methodically chosen sweet spot they started their search. A giant whirlpool formed and sucked the life out of the vessel straining bulkheads and solid steel beams. Down it went becoming just another blip on the map.

A team of oceanographers many years later may find the skeletal remains of Captain Hargood’s ship. A leather bound trunk green from algae blooms would hold the key to unlocking the mess the captain and his crew faced. Inside the trunk the manifest mixed in with charts detailing the proposed expedition could serve as a bibliography of the ill fated voyage.

Playing cats cradle with the sea can sometimes doom torchbearers to failure or even death. Ask the captain, his bread and butter are trapped under forty fathoms of saline. Neepers are flourishing off the remains of his wayward ship.

The company formed by the dead sailors of the deep remains steadfast at their posts. They guard the imagined and the unimaginable.

“Quite a quixmickle grandpa”, the young lad said

Grandpa in his shaky baritone vibrato of a voice praised his grandson for listening so intently.

Yes…quite the quixmickle indeed.