Thursday, June 30, 2011


I freely admit that I've largely lost my writing mojo over the past couple of years. My one badly published novel that I was planning to rewrite and start over? Ain't gonna happen. My unfinished manuscripts lying around the house in various states of disrepair, the ones I fully intended to finish with the Hallelujah Chorus blasting in the background? Nope, never did, possibly never will. I can get my mojo back on track, though. A writer -- makes shit up. So, I thought, why not take a picture, use it as a prompt, and try writing something -- totally stream of consciousness -- around it? So, here's the picture, and its story. And you are invited urged to write your own little story around it. myspace graphic comments

Betty had been dating Ralph for a couple of months when he made what, to her, seemed like a most peculiar suggestion, couched in language that made it seem more like a request. A rather firm request. But he did hint that were she to acquiesce, she just might enjoy a marked improvement in the bedroom, and she was all for that, so she set out one Saturday morning to see about bringing Ralph's suggestion to fruition.

Hanging her apron on the hook by the kitchen door, Betty grabbed her keys and set out for Target, armed with a list of the items she needed to acquire. At Target, she purchased some shaving cream, an oversized loofah, a large bottle of Wild Cherry scented bubble bath, 16 pillar candles of assorted scents, and a package of Lady Bic razors. And a box of Band-Aids and a tube of Neosporin, just in case, because Betty always liked to be prepared. She perused Target's lingerie offerings, but didn't see a thing that didn't look skanky, so she passed on those. She had perfectly serviceable cotton knit nightgowns at home, and besides, she wasn't entirely sure what a teddy even was -- except that she was pretty sure Ralph wasn't alluding to a stuffed bear.

From Target, Betty drove on to the package store, where she asked the clerk for assistance in choosing a champagne that might be to Ralph's liking. The clerk asked what the occasion was, and Betty told him she wasn't quite sure, but there would be shaving involved, quite possibly involuntary. The clerk raised an eyebrow and inquired as to who was being shaved by whom, and Betty repeated to him Ralph's request. Betty marched out of the store, leaving the champagne on the counter, while the clerk was still trying to catch his breath from his paroxysms of laughter. She then drove to 7-11 and bought a bottle of Boones Farm before heading over to the sporting goods store to procure a humane animal trap.

From there, she was soon off to the last leg of her trip. Two or three hours, and the bottle of Boones Farm, passed as she lolled about on the riverbank waiting for her quarry. Finally, at long last, she heard the distinctive clank of the door falling shut on the trap. Yes! She had her prey and could finally head home. And she couldn't get there soon enough, either, because the Boones Farm had seemingly gone right through her and she needed relief. Bad.

Back home, Betty got to work getting everything ready to fulfill Ralph's request -- although, by that time, she was beginning to believe it was a damned outlandish request. But what the heck, she'd try anything once.

Having changed into her prettiest nightie, the pinkish plaid one with the lace collar and ruffle around the ankle-length hem, Betty went into the bathroom and set out and lit all her new candles. She laid out a few towels, then filled the sink with warm, sudsy water, fragrant with the new bubble bath, and carried her smelly, frightened prey to the counter. She was rather badly frightened when it squealed and lunged at her the first time she squirted it with the shaving cream, but Betty was nothing if not stalwart. It took her only about half an hour to get most of its body lathered up, and then it was time to crack open the package of Bics -- no easy task since she was holding down the wiggly, noisy object of her attentions with her other hand. But she got the job done, extracted a sparkly pink razor from the bag, and gingerly made the first swath down the middle of the creature's back.

And the creature said, "Eeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"

And that was when Ralph appeared in the bathroom door, took one look, and turned white.

"Betty!" he gasped. "What in the name of all that is holy are you doing, woman?"

"Hey, Ralph," she said, gasping a little herself because, truth to tell, she was getting rather winded from all the contortions. "I'm doing what you asked me to do. And I mean to tell you, this was a lot harder than I imagined, so I am expecting some fireworks under the sheets, if you know what I mean."

"Mercy," Ralph sputtered. "Betty. Honey. This is not at all what I asked you to do."

"Excuse me?! You did, too, tell me to shave a..."

"No, I said shave your..."

"Excuse me! Admittedly, it's not exactly mine, but I am shaving the darn thing if you'll just give me time."

"No, baby, that thing is -- is a -- well, I believe it's a groundhog."

"Oh, gosh!" Betty cried indignantly. "You mean I went to all this trouble and I'm not even shaving the right thing?"

It was at that point that the groundhog, claws unsheathed and big teeth bared, launched itself into the air between Betty and Ralph. Ralph will be okay after his blood pressure drops a few digits, but Betty's went up when the E.R. doc ordered the rabies shots.

Perhaps the natural order of things is best.


G-Man said...

Don't you think you were a little rough on the Beaver this morning?

Serena said...

It's quite possible I'll be a bit rough with everyone and everything in my path today. It's one of THOSE days. Grrrrrr.

Marion said...

OMG, I cannot think for laughing at the cartoon. (One of my many insane friends told me today that she was shaving her, uh, beaver in the shape of hmmmm, flipping someone off....LOL!)

I had to send you this link because I KNOW you'll eat this story up with a spoon. I've read it three times and am still laughing my ass off... Check this out, Princess SJ:

Serena said...

LMAO over your friend, Marion. Oh, the synchronicity of it.:-) Just as you knew I would, I LOVED the big-ass chicken story. Thanks!

quid said...

OMG! I am laughing my axx off! SJ, I would attempt another story, but it would pale by comparison.


Serena said...

Pugsley, my stupid mouse slid to "reject" as I clicked on what I thought was "publish." But not to worry -- since I got your comment in e-mail, I can just copy it in. Sorry about that! This is just one more reason why I hate comment moderation -- which will disappear as soon as the stupid Spammer Twit llq disappears. Anyway, here's your comment -- and I absolutely loved it!:)

puerileuwaite has left a new comment on your post "Etch-a-Story":

I'm going to pull a Paul Harvey and make sure you now know ... the rest of the story.


The very next morning, Betty set her focus on making things up to Ralph.

So Betty headed to the local tattoo parlor.

You see, Betty had decided to compensate for the previous evening's debacle by having Ralph's and her intitials permanently and tastefully applied to her posterior.

The tattoo artist was both professional and masterful. Betty could not be more pleased. She paid the man and headed home to await Ralph's arrival.

Betty was naked, poised and ready as Ralph entered through the front door. On cue and without a word, Betty bent over a chair and proudly displayed her hiney to her husband.

Without batting an eye, Ralph dismissively inquired, "Who's ROB?"

Serena said...

Glad I made you laugh, Quid. But I'm pretty sure you could come up with a humdinger of your own.:)