Monday, June 25, 2012

Mag 123

"It's almost midnight", said Johnny. "lets have a break here. The delivery can wait."
Tom nodded.

The two men got out of the gleaming Durant and walked over to a park bench. A dark green bottle and a pack of cigarettes were produced without delay. Minutes passed. Somewhere further off they heard a group of people sing.

For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o'kindness yet
For auld lang syne

Tom smiled at the sound of clapping and cheers.

"Happy 1930, Johnny."

An obviously drunk couple walked by, waving. "Happy New Year, fellas!"

"I don't get it", said Johnny. "For centuries women wouldn't even show their ankles and now you can see right up to their underwear. What the hell happened?"

Tom giggled. "You slay me, Johnny. Who cares? I like it. As long as it's not a chubby dame like Suz from the Alley Cat."

He was down on the ground before he even knew what happened. Johnny towered over him looking dreadful.

"That's MRS. Parks to you." He seemed ready to throw another punch when suddenly he grinned. "And for your information, I like her chubby. Now lets go."

That was a Mag post.

Sunday, June 24, 2012


"I think we should leave now", said Lori, her voice shaking. "He'll be waking up soon."

"Just a few more minutes. Did you check the cupboard over there?"

The sister-in-laws continued their search in oppressive silence until, finally, Marsha yelped.

"Eureka!", she said between clenched teeth.

Lori came over, her eyes huge with fear. "What?", she whispered.

"His second cellphone of course!" Marsha experienced fingers flew through the menu.

"Oh my God!" Lori grasped a nearby chair to steady herself. The baby in her belly kicked.

"Her name is Shelby," Marsha stuck the phone under her nose. "Do you know her?"

Lori felt the blood drain from her face. For a couple of moments she could only stare dumbly.

"That's the mother of my daughter's best friend", she said finally.

"What are you going to do?"

Lori gulped a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

"Well", she looked at Marsha calmly now, "I guess I'm gonna have to call Mitch."

"Your boyfriend from high-school?"

"He's a lawyer now, they tell me." Her eyes narrowed into small slits. "A really good lawyer."

That was a Sunday Scribblings post.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Centus 112

On a warm October day the truancy officers came a calling.
"A hundred fifty boys skipped school this Tuesday", they deplored. "You have to do something! They are out in the country beating hickory nuts off the trees, chasing squirrels and having all kinds of fun!"

"It's an amusing little whine", said Probation Officer Dilgard, "but I'm not going to do anything. We have no place but the county jail to put these boys in and I'm too much of a kid myself to put any boy in jail for going hickory-nutting."

Jenny Matlock

Friday, June 22, 2012

Active Voice

Joe Arbuckle saw Stephen Pickett, the contractor, walk into the Lyceum with about a dozen bright-eyed boys in tow. Sensing a story he quickly crossed the street.

"Hey Pickett, I didn't know you had so many nephews."

Pickett smiled broadly. "I don't. Loitering boys cause most of our construction damage and I worried a lot about that until a crazy idea possessed me. I asked these boys to keep a close watch on our current project and I promised them an evening at the theater. It worked! We've had no damage whatsoever!" He beamed. "I consider it a good investment."

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Tuesday, June 19, 2012


Puddle, 1952, M. C. Escher
"So why are you here?"
The tired, prematurely gray-haired man looked at the floor for a few more minutes before answering.
"I don't know doc. I guess I've been feelin' blue. I know what I need to do but I've not much energy about nothing."
"You said you've been married a long time. Do you love your wife?"
The man clutched his hat and looked straight ahead. "Yes, doc. My family is the best thing that ever happened to me."
Doctor Wellis raised an eyebrow. Suddenly the silence became uncomfortable. The man began to squirm.
"Look", said the doctor."I could take your money, give you a tonic and send you on your way. But that wouldn't help you much would it?"
The man blushed. Finally he whispered. "No, doc."
"I can't help you out of your puddle if you won't be straight with me. Now tell me what you really want."
It took some time before the man could open his mouth. "I want to move back East. Back home. Build a hut somewhere lonesome, all by myself. Tend a garden." Suddenly his eyes watered. It took all his manly pride to keep those tears tucked in there.
Doctor Wellis continued to gaze the man unruffled. Then he started writing. The man received the prescription with only the slightest hint of a disappointment, until he read what was on the paper.
"Walk an hour a day?"
"Yes. If it gets too bad make it two hours. Come and see me in three months."

This is a Mag & Trifecta post.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Centus 111

The dowager was startled awake by a plop on the sofa. She reached for her monocle and peered closely at the unceremonious young woman who couldn't stop fanning herself.
"Enough dancing for tonight", declared the belle, "my feet are killing me."
"Is that you Miss Sophie?"
"Why yes it is, your Grace."
"Has it really been a decade since you've made your bow? Haven't you married that rascal Teddy yet?"
"Oh goodness no!"
"But he seems so devoted to you."
"Well you see, that's exactly it. I like having him devoted to me."

Jenny Matlock

Sunday, June 17, 2012


The sheriff's squad was busy preparing for the hanging of Clarence Sturgeon due at 9 am. It was nearly 8.15 when Joe Arbuckle finally managed to corner Charles Le Scholl himself.

"How was Sturgeon's last day?"
"Just like any other day really. Except for a short visit from his father."
"Was there any arguing?"
"Nope. Not at all. He just clapped the boy's shoulder, said that he was proud of him and...", the sheriff coughed and looked away, "and that he loved him."

The journalist stopped writing. "How can a parent be proud of his boy murdering three men in cold blood?", he asked with a certain amount of astonishment.

Charles Le Scholl ignored the question and went on. "Then the boy asked his father if he could bring some flowers to the grave of Miss Daisy Jackson."

Joe looked up again. "Who was she?"

"She was the young lady over whom the murder occurred", the sheriff looked at him meaningfully. "And who committed suicide."

This was a Sunday Scribblings post.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

D is for Disgusting

A couple of beers later, the two men were quietly puffing their cigars when the patrolman spoke up again.

"I've another one for you, Arbuckle", he said in a much lower voice. "But you can't print it."

Joe glanced at him sharply. "Why not?"

"Because it hasn't happened yet." O'Reilly was getting red-faced now. "You know Mrs. Barber don't you?"

The journalist smiled. "Of course I know Elaine", he took another deep puff. "She runs that confectionery store at St. Clair Street."

"Detective Carl is going to book her on Saturday for selling disgusting post cards."

"You're kidding me", Joe laughed. "Hasn't she been paying her dues?"

The patrolman shrugged. "It's election year. I guess they need something to show for it."

Jenny Matlock


"I have one for your paper, Arbuckle", said Patrolman O'Reilly.

The journalist perked up from his now empty glass of beer."You do?" He started patting the inside of his jacket for a notebook and pencil.

"I sure do. Found a man called Rasho Stefshonos beaten senseless in the alley near the market stalls. Three men snuck up on him, stole his money belt and his gold watch."

"How much did he have?", asked Joe looking considerably brighter now.

"Ninety three dollars."

Joe whistled. "Silly walking down that alley with so much money."

"He wanted to buy a horse", explained the patrolman. "He claimed that one of the trio was a countryman of his who heard him mention meeting the dealer."

Joe shook his head. "You can't be too careful in Toledo these days. So what did you do with Rasho?"

"Sent him with a hack to the Lagrange street station for tending. He wasn't fit to walk, for sure."

Joe nodded to the bartender. "Would you like another beer O'Reilly?"

This was a Trifecta post.

Sunday, June 10, 2012


Fat Fanny barged in, yellow silk robes flowing.

"Here's your costume, kid."

"Thanks, Fan." I gave the French Maid dress a sniff and a shake. "I must ask Tricia how she got that stain out."

Fanny was already busy powdering her face. "Well, if you can believe her..." Snort. "The other day she was telling us, a regular paid $800 just to spend the evening with her."

I laughed.
"There was no hanky panky, Fan", she mimicked. "I'm a happily married woman."
"Yeah, right." I started putting on my garters.

"Don't forget tonight there's a 3-for-1 special", she said.
I groaned.

Fanny was curling her eyelashes. "Tell me about it. Back when I was starting out we'd never french a customer."

I sighed, frustrated. "You also didn't have this much competition then."

This is a Sunday Scribblings post.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Centus 110

He took her wrinkled hand in his.

"But you could have had it all, Dorthy. All you had to do was ask."

"That wouldn't have been proper Jess. In sickness and in health, remember? I wasn't gonna leave a good man just because he couldn't work anymore."

"I shouldn't have gone to war", he repeated stubbornly.

"It's not like you had a choice in the matter."

"And...he's dead now?"

Dorthy pursed her lips. "Oh yes. Going five years now."

He looked at her hopefully. "Will you go to the dance with me tomorrow, Dorthy?"

She smiled. "Jess, what will the people say?"

"Darn the people."

Jenny Matlock

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

C is for Change

“Change will never happen when people lack the ability and courage to see themselves for who they are.” - Bryant H. McGill

“Everybody talks about wanting to change things and help and fix, but ultimately all you can do is fix yourself. And that's a lot. Because if you can fix yourself, it has a ripple effect.” -Rob Reiner

“One thing that Buddhism teaches you is that every moment is an opportunity to change.” - Ron Reagan

“Know what's weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change. But pretty soon, everything's different.” - Bill Watterson

“Faith... is the art of holding on to things your reason once accepted, despite your changing moods.” - C.S. Lewis

“You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.” -Saul Bellow

Jenny Matlock

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


image by Klaus Enrique Gerdes 

"I mean who spends $2000 for a jacket? The mind boggles."
No answer from Karen, just the sound of furious typing. Dani stared at her nails critically. Maybe she'd get a quick mani at LaShay's during lunch. Until then she could finish up that sales report or perhaps she would continue searching for a cute spring jacket on Ebay. Dani doubted the new assistant would notice.

A shrill yelp from the other room startled both women. Karen was there first. She turned on the light. All she could see was Monica hyperventilating. "Is everything ok?", she asked. Dani came in. "What's up?"

Monica pointed at a grotesque looking statue of fruit, flowers and vegetables with a trembling hand. "What on earth is that?!"

"I made it for the boss's birthday party tonight", said Dani in a slightly injured tone. "Why, what's wrong with it?"

This is a Mag & Trifecta post.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Not first time

"You started doing marathons because of a Stephen King novel?" The journalist stared.

It wasn't the first time an athlete claimed he had been inspired by a book but a thriller was hardly self-help material.

This was a Trifecta.