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December 6, 2005

Holiday Hiatus

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Comments

How about a theme?

--- There's something very unusual under the Christmas tree. --

Posted by: kasac at December 6, 2005 9:08 AM · Permalink

I'll be busy exchanging blood for oil at the local Red Cross.

Posted by: Laurence Simon at December 6, 2005 11:45 AM · Permalink

Oil makes a great holiday gift!

Posted by: kasac at December 6, 2005 1:28 PM · Permalink

I'm game on writing to your theme, kasac. I'm never too busy to pound out 100 Words.

If you write a story then I will, too.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at December 6, 2005 3:12 PM · Permalink

I'm thinking.

I have a feeling 100 words takes a bit longer for me to wrench from the depths of my being than it does for you to pound out, but,

I'm thinking......

Posted by: kasac at December 7, 2005 9:13 AM · Permalink

This year’s tree is bigger and taller and broader and more magnificent than any year before.

Fallen deep in the forest, and hauled to the center of town. Standing proud and glorious. Decorated beautifully, with ornaments and ribbons…..

He looked kind of pathetic under the tree, laying there face down in the snow. Maybe I should have wrapped him in a big red bow. Maybe not.

I’m starting to think I may have acted hastily. But, if we don’t want to needlessly kill beautiful giant trees, killing the mayor makes a lot of sense, or seemed to at the time.

Posted by: kasac at December 7, 2005 9:47 AM · Permalink

On the night before Christmas, I’d just closed my eyes,
When a commotion downstairs gave me a surprise.

I grabbed up my bat and I snuck down the stairs,
Hoping to catch the intruder quite unawares.

Preparing to swing, I tiptoed to the tree.
“Come out here,” I commanded. “Before I count three…”

“Easy there. Don’t hurt me! It is only me, Fred.”
From under the tree, the green-headed duck said.

He said, “You seemed so down lately, you needed a lift.
So I just snuck down here to leave you a gift.”

How do you clean up duck crap?

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at December 7, 2005 8:45 PM · Permalink

Thank you Jim! I was so hoping for a Fred and the Duck story. I feel so satisfied.

Have a beautiful Christmas!!

Oh, and it's your turn.

Posted by: kasac at December 8, 2005 10:33 AM · Permalink

OkAy. Here's a theme...

Write about the worst Christmas in history.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at December 8, 2005 2:28 PM · Permalink

“He’s slipped into a coma.” The nurse whispered ducking from the room.

My first sensation was of relief – no more pain.

Then the hollowness fell upon me – so empty.

My childhood Santa, my tooth-fairy, my mentor, my hero, my daddy, - father.

My gaze lifted from his face, a faded copy of who he once was. My focus faded slowly outward - how beautifully his room was decorated. Hardly a hospital room, so many many friends, bringing gifts, returning love.

The preacher had come and gone, “He’ll be with his maker soon.”

It hit me then.

It was Christmas day.

Posted by: kasac at December 9, 2005 8:51 AM · Permalink

When a client has a problem, he doesn't care if it's Christmas Eve or what. Just fix it. That's all he cares about.

Snow...lousy roads...I really hate this crap.

Still got toys to put together. Haven't eaten since lunch. I can barely keep the car on the road. When did Christmas get to be such a pain in the butt?

Wait...looks like a stalled car ahead. Easy on the brake...easy...okay, got it stopped.

We both get out of our cars. "Need some help?" I ask.

He grabs my keys and drives off in my car.

"Merry Christmas, moron!" he yells.

Posted by: OCO at December 9, 2005 11:40 AM · Permalink

I got nothing for that theme. I'm not sure why I thought of it in the first place.

Somebody give another theme, please.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at December 10, 2005 11:24 PM · Permalink

"An except from the secret diary of Blackbeard the teenage pirate."

Readysetgo!

Posted by: G-Do at December 11, 2005 3:03 PM · Permalink

June 12, 1708

It’s been over five months since we left port in Bristol and I’m beginning to think this whole buccaneer gig isn’t what I signed up for.

Back then; Captain Jackal assured me that I’d get my share of the booty. But all this sailing and so far all I’ve gotten is some gold. I thought he meant girls.

And what’s with all this “Arrr” and “Yo ho” crap? It’s like talking to a bunch of retards.

But the worst thing is my new “pirate name”. I’d like to slit the throat of whoever came up with “Blackfuzz”.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at December 11, 2005 8:11 PM · Permalink

Gah, that was supposed to be "an excerpt," not "an except." We are not doing Blackbeard the computer programmer teenage pirate here.

Posted by: G-Do at December 11, 2005 11:03 PM · Permalink

My firrst look at your theme, Jim, hung me up on the 'history' of Christmas. Everywhere I started with that became frightfully...uhm...semitic.

And I don't know how to do, Pirate.

I'll ask around my building here for ideas.

Posted by: kasac at December 12, 2005 6:13 AM · Permalink

The water felt warm and comforting, even relaxing. I let my mind drift dreamily as I floated. Back home to the Italian country-side. Back home to family and old friends. What a childhood, learning all I could about survival, about life and love. Growing up in the small townships where everyone is your friend.

Love drifted into my semiconscious mind. Only one true love, warm and reassuring, beautiful, and desired by all men. Hidden away our love was, forbidden, making it all the more exhilarating. If only she wasn’t the Captain’s winch. I wouldn’t have had to walk that plank.

Posted by: kasac at December 13, 2005 10:23 AM · Permalink

Writing 100 word tales is damn good fun. Laurence has convinced me to do a few, so far I have written four. They are almost p[rose songs.

Posted by: Andrew Ian Dodge at December 29, 2005 7:38 AM · Permalink