The Mix Up

Welcome back!
I hope this little tidbit is to your liking. Just a little weirdness.
Leave me some love!
Ren


You are in the operating room and are slowly being put under to have your gall bladder removed. Just as you are dosing off, you notice the doctor entering the room isn't the doctor scheduled to operate on you. When you awake, your gall bladder is still there, but something else about you has been changed. Write this scene.

*****

I lay flat on the hard slab, staring up at the white ceiling, nearly blinded by the bright lights. Who would have thought that I would have ended up here. That a case of gallstones would have landed me in the operating room in Sandusky General.

All courses of treatment exhausted, Dr. Martin had said. This is our best option, he had assured me.

Well, maybe it was for the best. Hell, who really needs their gallbladder anyway? What does it even do? Yeah, I was going to be just fine when I woke up.

A sneaker scuffing the tiled floor nearby broke me from my inner monologue and I turned my head in time to see a plastic mask being lowered over my mouth and nose.

"Now remember what we talked about," the nurse told me patiently. "Just breathe normally. Can you count backward from a hundred?"

"100," I began. I sounded muffled to myself. "99." I watched her check the tubes running from my arm to an IV drip that hung above my head. "98." She pushed a few buttons on the heart monitor. It was becoming more difficult to speak properly. My tongue seemed to weigh fifty pounds. "Niiiiiinety-sthevfen," I managed to slur out. I could feel the anesthesia kicking in. It wouldn't be long now.

"Is our patient ready?" a jovial voice boomed from across the room. I turned my head and when I saw the doctor, ready to go in green scrubs and a bandana, about to put his paper face mask on, the '96' caught in my throat.

"Wait!" I tried to shout, only to my ears it sounded more like a muffled "Wwawwaaaww."

And as my vision rapidly blurred, before I completely passed out, the words I had tried so hard to utter passed repeatedly through my mind: That's not my doctor.

*****

My mouth was dry. That was the most prominent sensation occupying my mind. On top of whatever other discomforts I knew I was about to start experiencing, I had a severe case of cotton mouth.

I struggled for a moment or two to open my eyes. Finally, they began to flutter, and from a flutter I was able to blink against the blinding lights. I squinted around at my surroundings. I was in a private hospital room. I could hear the sharp, steady beep of the heart monitor and was pleased to see the IV was already out of my arm. I glanced to my left and saw a pink plastic pitcher and a matching plastic cup set out on the bedside table. I reached for the cup but as I did my arm brushed something protruding from my chest.

That couldn't be right.

I pulled my arm back and looked down at myself. The bed sheet was pulled up to my armpits, but there was no mistaking the bulge where my chest was. Hesitantly, I reached up and gripped the edge of the sheet. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, an attempt to mentally prepare myself for what I might see.

An attempt, because nothing could have prepared me for what lay beneath when I yanked the cover back.

Breasts. Two large breasts were wrapped in medical gauze, sitting on my chest. They had to be D's, maybe even double D's. One word ran around my mind.

No.

This couldn't be! How had this happened! My gallbladder was supposed to come out! Was this a two for one special? Did they even take my gallbladder? What am I supposed to do with a pair of breasts?

The door to my room swung open and a nurse walked in carrying a tray with juice and jello and wearing a smile.

"Oh good, you're awake!" she noticed cheerfully. "How are you feeling, Mr. Murphy?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PS. This is my first story and post written entirely on my brand spanking new iPad 2! This Relationship is going to work out juuuuuuust fine, I do believe.
Until next time,
Ren

The Visit

Hello loyal readers!

So that was a nice two month hiatus, eh? I had an extraordinarily boring detail last night, sitting alone in a tiny booth, pushing one button to lower a barrier, and pushing another to raise it back up. So I had a lot of free time. This is how I spent it. Except for the two hours when Michelle came to visit with chicken wings from the bar :)

The Prompt: You always look out the dark windows into the sky and wonder what’s out there. One night when you look, a small face with bright eyes is staring back. What do you do, who/what is it, and why are they there?

www.writersdigest.com/writingprompts

My Story:

Megan was bored. Every day she led the same routine. Wake up, go to school, come home, have dinner with parents, go to bed. And fit homework in there somewhere. Every day it was the same, never wavering. So it was no wonder that day dreaming was a favorite pastime for the twelve year old. It was pretty much the one thing that could break up the monotony of her day.

Her favorite place to pass the time in such a manner was perched on the windowsill of her bedroom window, staring up at the dark sky sprinkled with millions of bright, twinkling stars.

That’s where Megan sat now. After a particularly tense dinner, during which mother chose to bring up a recent discussion with Megan’s teacher concerning Megan’s chronic day dreaming habit, Megan quickly escaped to the quiet solitude of her bedroom. She could barely even call it her bedroom. Mother had decorated (or not decorated it, which may be more fitting) and it lacked any sort of personal touch. The walls were painted a dull mauve and were devoid of any hangings. The carpet was grey and the bedspread matched the walls.

But the view; that’s the one thing Megan loved about her room. When she looked out her window to the unobstructed sky, she felt free, as though she could do anything, go anywhere, the possibilities were endless.

Megan sighed lightly as she gazed longingly at the stars now. She unwound the tight bun of bright orange hair that rested on top of her head as she tried to imagine what else might be out there, possibly gazing back at her and wondering the same thing.

She picked up her hairbrush from the dresser that stood a few feet from her perch and began to gently brush out her long hair, pausing briefly to mentally complain about how the bright orange clashed horribly with the fuchsia hue of her skin. Why couldn’t she be blue-skinned like her best friend Kelsey? Even green would go better with her color hair than (gag) fuchsia.

Then she wondered if beings from other worlds agonized over the same problems. Surely not. Aliens must be so carefree. What would they have to worry about, living on exotic, unimaginable worlds?

Megan lowered her eyes from the sky and came back to reality. And gasped as her heart stopped. Outside her window, staring back at her from the sill, was a small face, with bright, green, glowing eyes.

She blinked. And blinked again. The face remained. But now, the longer she looked at it, the more she saw. The face came attached to a little body, which clung to the outside windowsill and seemed to be dressed up in some kind of suit. From head to foot, the entire creature could barely be half of Megan’s height. And the bright eyes, they didn’t seem to be eyes at all, but part of some kind of mask. Why they were glowing, Megan hadn’t the first clue.

A scream bubbled up in Megan’s throat, but she quickly dropped the forgotten hairbrush and covered her mouth with both hands to stifle the noise as she jumped to her feet. Part of her wanted to run screaming from her sanctuary. But then, isn’t this what she’d been wanting? Something new and exciting to interrupt her boring life? Granted, this little person with the glowing mask might not bring excitement into her life per se, but it certainly was new, and definitely different.

Megan lowered her hands and forced herself into calm before slowly opening the window.

“H-Hello-o,” she stammered out nervously.

“Hello,” the little person responded. The voice sounded odd, unnatural. It sounded fake and almost seemed to echo slightly. “Please excuse my appearance. I cannot survive in your climate and must wear this suit to live. I am from a planet called Earth, several light years away. I have been sent on a mission to find life on other planets.”

Megan’s jaw involuntarily fell open. A million questions flashed through her head at once, but the one she settled on was, “How can you speak my language?”

“We have been studying your planet covertly for some time now. I am using an electronic translator to communicate with you. The similarities between our races are astounding. We are looking for volunteers to come back with us for further information exchange.”

“Back?” Megan asked. “To your… Earth?”

“Yes, my planet. We have created an environment chemically similar to yours so that you won’t suffocate in our world.”

Megan looked at the little person hanging from her windowsill while she debated this invitation. Information exchange? So she would get to learn about a whole other planet, firsthand and not from books? Did she really have to think about this?

No. She didn’t.

Grinning, she said, “Let me just pack a bag.”

**

Poor Megan. If only she knew how horrible Earthlings are. Because you know she ended up dissected on a lab table.

I know it's kind of nerdy and lame, but hopefully typos are at a minimum and you found some kind of entertainment value. There is a companion piece. The next writing prompt just seemed to go hand in hand with this one. It just needs to be typed and proofread so hopefully I should have it up soon.

Leave some love!

Ren

Clowning Around

Prompt: You wake up in a darkened circus tent, wearing a bright blue and yellow clown costume and a fluffy red wig. There is a dwarf standing over you with a bucket of water. “You okay?” he asks.

 **

Of one thing,at least, I was sure. I was uncomfortable. My eyes were closed, but I was sure I was lying flat on a hard surface. It felt like a hard, dirt floor. Why would I be on a dirt floor?

I finally coaxed my eyes into fluttering open. My head was pounding.

What happened?

Looking directly above me, I saw wires and pulleys and platforms, underneath a huge, blue and yellow striped tent. That’s right. The circus. My birthday. Trespassing.

I heard shuffling next to me and slowly turned my head to the left. There was a small man, reminiscent of the Lollipop Guild, approaching, wearing a flannel plaid shirt underneath overalls and holding a big, blue, plastic bucket.

“Hey,” he squeaked nasally. “You okay?”

I closed my eyes as the memories came rushing back.

I had wanted to do something extreme for my thirtieth birthday. Something epic. Something not likely to be forgotten before my fortieth birthday, at which point we would somehow top this stunt and keep everyone talking for yet another decade.

Just our luck, the circus had come into town this week. And I wanted to play on the trapeze.

Eight of us had walked into the big top to find a group clowns juggling pins, squirting seltzer at each other, and balancing on top of giant balls. We hadn’t expected anyone to be in there at that time of night. As we turned to leave, a voice stopped us.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

We slowly turned to see the ringmaster, dressed in a tux complete with top hat, staring at us.

I, apparently, was the bravest in our group.

“We didn’t realize practice was going on,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Practice?” he laughed. “Oh, nonsense, this is a party! Will you join us?” He seemed almost hopeful.

I hesitated for a moment. Then I said with a grin, “Well, it is my birthday.”

So we partied and drank and learned to juggle (almost), and all were merry. Until a loud, shrieking, blood-curdling, scream pierced the air. A deafening silence fell over the performers, as the ringmaster ran in from an adjacent tent, screaming, “THE LION IS LOOSE!”

Panic ensued. Everyone ran in every direction possible.

I froze.

A large, orange cat, with a large, wavy mane sauntered into the tent, stopped, and stared at me.

He growled.

I ran.

I knew I would never make it to safety, but I had to try. The opening of the tent grew closer and closer. I could taste escape. I turned to gauge the buffer zone between us. Not far enough. I turned forward again just in time to see a metal ladder mere feet in front of me. I couldn’t stop in time.

I slammed into the ladder and bounced off, landing on the floor, just as the lion leapt, missing me by inches.

Gasping for air, I forced myself to my feet. The lion turned to face me, his huge, wet tongue licking his lips, whetting appetite. We stared each other down for a moment. The he charged. Having no other option, I jumped onto the ladder and climbed. I climbed fast, hand over hand, foot over foot. I heard the lion lunge below me. Halfway up, I stopped and looked down. I knew there was no way he could reach me, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He leapt onto the ladder and fell off over and over. As his massive form repeatedly impacted on the ladder, however, the ladder began to sway. I looked up and that the screws attaching the ladder to the trapeze platform above were loosening with every hit. I’d soon be back on the ground, a fresh meal, free for the taking.

I had only one option. It looked like I would be getting my birthday wish to play on the trapeze after all.

There was another shudder as the giant cat below rammed the ladder once again. I scrambled the rest of the way up, and threw myself onto the platform. The structure continued to shake and weaken as I stood, staring at the menacing bar in front of me.

Nervously, I reached out and timidly detached it from its resting place. I wrapped my fingers tightly around the bar and closed my eyes.

With one last shudder, I felt the platform fall away from my feet and I held on to the trapeze for dear life as I felt myself drop, and then suddenly jerk to a stop, dangling high above the lion.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty!” The ringmaster had re-entered the tent, waving a fat, raw steak in front of him, like a bullfighter waving his red flag. The lion caught the scent immediately, licked his chops twice, and ran to the treat. The ringmaster turned and ran back the way he’d come, the lion close on his heels.

“Swing!” a different voice called.

I looked up to see a woman swinging on the other trapeze.

“You have to swing to me!” she called out to me. “I’ll catch you!”

I looked down at the ground, which seemed even further below me than it had before. It was worth a shot, I finally decided. What other choice did I have? Hang out here until the fire department showed up?

I swung my body back and forth, slowly building up the momentum. The acrobat opposite me synched herself up so that we would meet in the middle. My swings became wider and soon we were coming within inches of each other.

“On this next one, let go,” she yelled. “I’ll catch your legs.”

I watched her switch position while the trapeze continued to swing, like a giant pendulum. She now dangled from her knees, head hanging down.

We swung out, slowed, and swung back toward each other.

“Ready?”

A little further…

“Now!”

I shut my eyes, said a quick prayer, and let go. I felt fingers wrap around my ankles as we swung back toward her platform. Then I heard a grunt, followed by a curse, and I felt my left ankle slip free. I was now swinging fifty feet in the air, hanging by only my right ankle!

But we were almost there. Only a few more feet…

“Shit!”

The exclamation came from my would-be savior, as I suddenly felt myself plummeting toward the ground below.

Ice cold water soaking me from head to toe snapped me back to the present. My eyes flew open and I sat up, glaring at the dwarf.

“What the hell was that for?” I shrieked, now shivering on top of aching.

“I thought you were passing out,” he squeaked.

I shook my head, slowly. “No. Just remembering.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t killed, you know,” he said.

I inspected myself for serious injury, noting the outfit I was wearing was not the outfit I’d come in with. But before I could ask why I was dressed like a clown, a more pressing matter occurred to me.

“The lion! He chased the ringmaster!”

The dwarf waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, they’re both fine. We darted the lion with a harmless sedative as soon as they got outside. He’s sound asleep in his cage, and the ringmaster is enjoying a nice fat steak.”

“Oh, good,” I breathed, relieved. I looked back down at the hideous blue and yellow clown suit. “Why am I dressed in a clown suit?”

The dwarf giggled. “You were out for while. Your friends thought if would be fun to have some photos to blackmail you with later.”

What awesome friends I have. 

**

So, I want to apologize. I was doing well for a few weeks there, but life and work caught up with me. I had this one written, and another one is half written, in my notebook, but I just couldn't get around to actually typing them up! So this is another quickie, written one night at work. I don't think I like it too much, but, eh.

Leave some love!

Ren

I'll Have the Lasagna, Hold the Alien Goo, Please

The prompt:

When you are eating out at your favorite restaurant, you find something unexpected in your food. The owner comes over, looking frazzled, and begs, “Please, I can explain!” Write a creative/exciting explanation for the object you discovered in your meal.

My response:

I sat down at the table, not even bothering with the menu. It had been a rough week and some nice Italian food was exactly what I needed to keep the week’s horrid events from polluting my weekend.

When the waitress came, all I had to say was “the usual, Michelle,” and she was on her way to the kitchen, and I leaned back against the chair and sipped some red wine.

Twenty minutes later, my plate of lasagna arrived. I was salivating before it was even on the table. The stream floating up from it made it look even more appetizing. The cheese was a perfectly melted blend of white and green-

Wait. What cheese was green?

I picked up my fork and hesitantly poked at the bright green goo mixed in with the melted cheese. I sighed. There was no way I could eat this. Despite the mouth-watering aroma that wafted from it, I just couldn’t bring myself to eat lasagna made with green cheese, or whatever this goo was. It could be radioactive for all I knew! It did seem to emanate a slight glow.

I set the fork down and looked around for my waitress. I found her by the bar and waved her over.

“Is everything okay?” she asked as she approached.

“No, actually, it isn’t,” I said, pointing at the goo. “This lasagna looks like it’s been contaminated.”

She gasped. “Oh dear, I am so sorry,” she apologized, taking the plate. “I’ll bring you a new one right away.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I don’t have much of an appetite anymore. I’ll just go home, I think.” And heat up another Lean Cuisine, I added mentally.

I pushed back from the table and made my way to the exit. When I was about three feet away, however, a short, portly man in a tuxedo, with more scalp than hair and a dark mustache blocked my way. He looked completely frazzled, wringing his hands and breathing heavily.

“Please, I can explain!” he insisted. “I am so, so sorry! You see, one of the new chefs, he isn’t from around here. He’s one of those… you know… new arrivals?”

I did indeed know. Part of the government’s plan to make friendly with races from other planets.

“Well, you see, they don’t use knives on his home planet, and he slipped and cut one of his tentacles. That particular race bleeds a green ooze type of substance, and he must have dripped some onto your lasagna before it went into the oven, and then it cooked and mixed with the cheese as it melted. I simply cannot express to you how deeply I regret that it was missed and it was served to you. If you please, I will personally make you any meal on the menu and provide a bottle of wine at no charge.”

I felt my mouth fall open.

“I know that you’re a regular here,” he continued. “I see you once or twice a week. This was certainly an isolated incident and I would like the chance to personally make it up to you.”

He smiled uncertainly.

I closed my mouth and nodded. “Okay,” I said. “But hold the alien goo this time.”

Eh, it's just a quickie. But leave some love anyway, please! I'm trying to throw a new one up here every Sunday, so keep checking back!

Ren

The Cat From The Other World

Another writing prompt from WritersDigest.com.


The Prompt: You're at home watching "CSI" when you hear a faint scratching at the door. Upon opening it, you see a small dog looking up at you. You examine the dog's collar and see a phone number and the message "If you find this cat, call this number immediately." (Yes, that's right, cat.) Against your better judgment, you call the number. Two hours later you find yourself in a basement with two dead bodies on the floor. What happened?


My response: 

“Who are you? Who, who? Who, who?”

I dropped onto the couch with a big bowl of popcorn, eagerly watching the opening credit sequence for CSI. It had been a long day at work and I was exhausted, but this was the most anticipated episode of the season, and I was not going to miss it.

As the screen faded into the first scene, I shoved a fistful of popcorn into my mouth and crunched loudly. So loudly, in fact, that I thought I was imagining a noise at the front door. When the noise persisted, I paused mid-chew to listen.

There it was again!

It was some kind of scraping or scratching. My curiosity was piqued, but it didn’t override my need to watch CSI. The noise would have to wait until the commercial break. As hard as I tried to ignore it, however, it seemed to only get louder. I began to worry about the paint being scratched off. 

Finally, after watching a bullet being dug out of a victim’s spleen, the screen faded to black. I dropped the bowl (still half-full of popcorn) on the coffee table, sprinted to the door and flung it open to face-

Nothing?

I looked left down the hallway, I looked right dow the hallway. When I heard a shuffle at my feet, I looked down. Sitting on the floor, staring up at me with a pitiful, sad face, was a small dog. I crouched down to its level and carefully held out my hand to it.

“Hey little guy,” I said to it. “Where’d you come from?”

It had a white, shaggy coat and an interesting face. It almost didn’t look like a dog, but a dog was the closest animal I could relate it to. It timidly sniffed my hand before rubbing its face on my fingers. I gently rubbed its head, looking for a collar. When I found it, I rotated it around until the tag was readable.

If you find this cat, call immediately: 718-555-7425

“Cat?”

“Meow,” was its answer.

“You’re a cat?”

It just looked at me. It was damn ugly for a cat.

I sighed. “Okay. Come on.” I picked up the cat and brought it inside to the phone. As I dialed, I watched the cat staring at me intently. This thing seemed too smart for its own good.

I didn’t like it.

The line rang three times before a recording clicked on.

“If you are listening to this message, you have found Zeus. You have been chosen. It is very important that you follow Zeus and obey his will. Good luck.”

The line went dead. I looked between the phone in my hand, and the cat. Zeus. This was weird. Obey his will? What the hell did that mean? It’s a damn cat!

Shaking my head, I set the phone back in the charger and stared at the cat as he stared back at me.

“Well? What am I supposed to do? Let’s get this over with.”

I was answered with a loud, insistent meow, and Zeus turned and trotted to the door. I hesitated. Was I really going to follow this cat around?

Zeus stopped at the door and turned to face me, expectantly. When I just stared at him, he growled. I mean, he growled!

“Okay!” I hurried to the door, grabbing my keys on the way, and let us both out.

I followed as Zeus continued to trot down the hallway of the eighth floor, heading straight for the stairwell.

“We can’t take the elevator?”

He growled again.

I sighed and pushed the door open. “You know, you have some serious control issues.”

He merely huffed, not even sparing a glance back at me.

A few minutes later, we were in the basement of my apartment building. I profusely hoped the super wouldn’t decide to check on something down here and find me talking to a cat, in an off-limits area for no reasonable purpose. That could suck.

Without hesitation, Zeus went straight to a dark corner in the back of the room and started digging through a small pile of rubble. After a moment, he stopped and looked at me.

I shrugged. “What?”

“MEOW!”

“Oh, you want me to help? Why didn’t you just say so?” I smirked at my own wit and began to help him move dirt and debris. Zeus only huffed again.

The dig was short lived, as again Zeus suddenly stopped. A low growl was born deep in his throat and he spun around (the first time I’d ever seen a cat spin) to face whatever threat he perceived to be advancing upon us.

I looked over my shoulder as well. 

“Zeus, there’s nothing-”

I was interrupted by a door opening and slamming, followed by footsteps and low voices.

“Yeah, it’s right in here,” one said gruffly.

“I can’t believe he just left it here unguarded,” a second man said. “Very careless.”

“Yes, but to our advantage,” said the first.

Zeus hunched his back and his growl grew louder, more menacing. I had made jokes before, but I was actually afraid of this ugly cat now.

The two men entered the large, open room and stopped short.

“He’s here!” the second man yelled. He turned on the spot and tried to sprint, but in a white flash, Zeus was in the air and landed on the man’s back. Zeus’ tail had turned into a large spike and slammed into the man’s head. In a panic, the first guy picked up a nearby two-by-four and swung at Zeus. Zeus leapt into the air once more. The wood made contact with the second guy, who was already spurting a fountain of blood from his head. With a ferocious snarl, Zeus landed on the face of the first guy, claws out. He screamed in agony as Zeus clawed and scratched and bit, and finally plunged his spiked tail deep into the man’s chest.

His body landed with a loud thud next his partner’s.

Zeus hopped off the body, licked his paws clean and trotted back to the corner, where I still knelt, frozen, in complete disbelief of what I had just witnessed. Zeus continued digging as though there had been no interruption.

After a few minutes (or maybe a few hours; I’m not really sure, time seemed to be stuck), Zeus pulled out a delicate gold chain with a small charm attached to it and slipped his head through the loop.

“Now, you undisciplined, smart ass of a girl,” he said to me, “I will explain what your responsibility is.”

They wanted 500 words or less for this one as well, but, obviously, I just couldn't do it. I may have been able to if I'd tried, but it wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining, and I wouldn't have been happy. So here it is anyway. All 1,112 words of it. I actually am pretty pleased with this one. I feel like if I put some time and planning into it I could make it into a full length story. What did you think? Any good? Full of crap? Please tell me!


Ren

Five Items

This is my first attempt at a writing exercise using a prompt. I used one from WritersDigest.com. They have a lot of interesting ones on there, and I already have ideas for a bunch. Check them out: www.writersdigest.com/writingprompts

The Prompt: "You wake up in jail and have no memory of how you got there. As you pace around the cell, you find five items in your pocket from the night before. As you look at each piece, the night slowly comes back to you. Write about your night, why you have these five items and how you ended up in jail." (500 words or less)

My response:

   My head felt like it had exploded. Then put itself back together and was on the verge of exploding again. Bright light broke in through the miniscule openings of my eyelids. I was afraid to open them. I was so uncomfortable. I must not have made it to the bed when I got home.

   When I got home… When did I get home?

   Did I get home?

   Oh, shit.

   I flung myself up into a sitting position and my eyes flew open. Immediately my head exploded all over again and I fought against a wave—more like a tidal wave—of nausea. I squinted against the fluorescents as I absorbed my surroundings. Grey cinderblock walls surrounded me on three sides. A stainless steel toilet sat in one corner. And on the fourth side… bars.

   Jail. Terrific.

   I lay back on the metal slab and tried to recount the previous night’s events. The last thing I remembered was driving to the office for the annual holiday party.

   Oh, no.

  The holiday party. That explained why my brain had been repeatedly beaten with a baseball bat, while being mercilessly squished in a vise.

   I sighed and let my hand rest on the pocket of my slacks. That’s when I felt something in there.

   I reached into the right pocket and pulled out three things: a receipt from a parking garage, a business card for someone named Jack Turner at Roto-Rooter, and lastly, a red thong. A lacey red thong. No exactly my style, at least not while I’m sober.

   I sat up again, spreading the three items out in front of me on the bench. The receipt was addressed around the corner from the office, time-stamped at 8:03pm 12/22/10. The thong… Ew. I flicked it away, into the corner, making as little contact with it as possible. The business card. That was a little difficult. I had no use for Roto-Rooter at home. My plumbing was behaving just fine. Unless it wasn’t the plumber who gave me the card, but the man behind the plumber. Jack… I concentrated for a moment. Yes, Jack, I remembered him. He had flirted a little, but I didn’t remember taking his card.

   On a hunch, I plunged my left hand into my left pocket—and winced. Pulling my hand back out, I looked at it closely. The knuckles were swollen and raw. Did I punch something? Or someone?

   Using care, I slowly reached into my left pocket again. There were two things in there. A miniature candy cane and a pair of balled up green tights. When I saw the tights, I realized. I had lost this year. The infamous Hockler & Stevens Holiday Party Chug Off. The loser dresses up as an elf for the duration of the party. That explained the thong and the tights. And possibly Roto-Rooter. But who did I hit?

   “Anderson! You made bail!” The door opened, and I stepped out. “And stay away from Roto-Rooter,” the guard advised.

I miss writing...

Fellow writers:

I have sat down to write on numerous occasions throughout the past two months or so, but I have been unbelievably uninspired. But! I found a website!

http://www.writersdigest.com/WritingPrompts/

It's a whole lot of writing prompts, and I'm going to start trying them out to see how far I can get. Help yourselves!

Ren