HALLEE: Have left my 2 cents worth for you in the shorties critique section. Loooovvvveeeeddddd the story!!!!!

CHRISTI: As far as eidetic memory goes, I was reading a book and the word cropped up and I wondered what it was. Obviously I was having an energetic day coz I searched out the dictionary and looked it up and I thought heeeeey, that's what I've got! I don't remember everything, but the things I do remember I remember as though I'm watching it in action.
There's plenty I don't remember. Like where I put the &^%$$&*& notebook for instance.

ALLEIN: I have to tell you I was shocked and appalled to read your latest post. What a sad and criminal waste of coke. Thankyou for opening my eyes to this appalling state of affairs. :-) I freely admit my addiction to gut stripper..er..I mean coke.

TINA: Why do you need to mouse when you write hmmmmm? Sure you weren't doing a bit of net surfing instead? Or where there lots of cut and pastes?
That's okay. Koala's do have a nasty temper, when annoyed, but thankfully they don't go stalking people around the gum trees. HAHA I laugh to think of it. And they're fairly small, so even if you were attacked at least you could drop kick them away. Softly of course.
Yes, that's the thing, there are some really stupid people here who do go swimming in crocodile infested waters and I freely admit they are stupid. People with common sense stay out of harms reach. Anyway crocodiles aren't really rampant in too many rivers here. Mainly up in Darwin and around the tropics.

DEBRA: You didn't state that she felt wiser. You stated that she was wiser. That's all. As a reader, when you tell us something is a fact we must believe you. Now had you said she felt wiser, whal honey, that thar's a whole new ball gayme.
If you want I'll said you the analysis in an email. If you'd prefer the notebook that's fine too. Just want to give you the option.
Ah look. Now it's blowing way out of propirtion. And now you're getting really, REALLY curious, aren't you? BWAH HAHAHHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

HEATHER & CHRISTI: I know you've had some horrible losses in the past. But what about my bloody notebook. Huh! What about that!!! Oh yeah, sure, I hear you say, what's a notebook compared to all your stuff. Well it's a lot darn it, a lot!
And it's not just my notebook. My minds gone too. Last time I saw it I'd put it carefully in a big red bed sock. Now it's gone. GONE. Ooooooooh goooooone, and I just don't know where. *WAAAAAAAAH*

CHRISTI: You asked for it. BWAH HAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAH.

Seeyers.

Knew I was forgetting something. I'd forget my own name if it wasn't written in my underwear.
I lay claim to the long post below.

Hello all!

JERRY, Enjoy your time with the Mrs. I'd love to have some great quality time like that with my hubby.
P.S. Did you let that poor dog out yet or have his eyes begun to fill up? Ewwww.

ALLEIN, Thank you very much for the Critic's Corner! I'll be catching "What Women Want" as soon as I can get a babysitter. (Interpretation: I'll wait until my mom has the time.)

ROSEMARY, Had you going there, eh? I made up Good n' Plenty ice cream, but wouldn't it taste interesting?

SASQUATCH, Much funny, yes yes!

GARIESS, Hee! LL Bean, huh? Well I AM the superstitious sort, and I would probably believe the hat to have some amazing 'brain bucket' inspirational powers. It was interesting to hear about the letters KV wrote to his father, but wadda snooper! (I was a TERRIBLE snoop as well when I was young. I wanted to be a spy.)

TEEKAY, Eidetic memory?! I'm ashamed to say that I had to look that one up, and boy was I impressed afterwards. I have very little memory of my childhood and am quite jealous of those who can call theirs up with little or no effort. My dictionary didn't go into this very far so I'm uncertain if you have more memory recall along with the vividness, or if it only refers to very vivid memories. Can you clear my confusion?
P.S. Aren't you glad I didn't go THERE in the story? I thought about doing so for nearly a whole second; entirely too long if you ask me.
P.P.S. PLEEEEZE do send me what you've written so far. I'm busting to know what it's about!

HEATHER, I'm all abashed. My little loss was nothing compared to yours. Bow, scrape, scrape. ;)

ALLEIN again, I didn't take your test. If my plants are any indication of how I would take care of a pet, well ... you understand. I only have the time to chase after my wee son.
PS I'm a Pepsi drinker myself, and after those tidbits you posted I will stay so for life!

BEN, Thank you for not rehashing. ;)

JON, DON'T GET A VASECTAMY! Heed this advice well. You'll thank me later. My husband told me how they used to neuter sheep on the farm, and I don't think it's much better for cats. Rubber band, anyone? :(

TINA, You're entirely too sweet. Go on. Really, go on, I love it! Hee hee.

Smooches liberally dispersed to all,

Christi

Teekay:


Now that you've said that I absolutely have to hear it. I will kill me. I promise not to hate you. Besides I have never had a dream like that before so I will just assume that whatever it was that caused it, your consult, will never pop up again. Pllleassse pleaseee *sob sob* hiccup hard swollow tears sob sob some more!

Yes, to your comments on Alice. It was hard to put into words what she was feeling after such a stupid move. She thought she was wiser. She wasn't. Let't hope wiser is on its way.


Debra

Hello all!

What a wonderful day! I gave myself permission to spend all day writing. Now my eyes are exhausted, my back is sore and my right hand is limp from mousing, and I love it!
Even when I took my dog for a walk, I wrote a poem in my head. I'll save that for Thursday.

Christi is awesome. I'm sure everyone knows that already but I'm just reaffirming the fact. It's so exciting to get feedback from people here, to have my writing deeply analysed in such an encouraging, positive way.

Nice to meetcha Ben!

Viv, are you around? Or megan?

Bears.... in my wandering wilderness escapades I've met exactly 0 bears. I've seen fresh scat, fresh prints, fresh markings on trees. I've heard a bear once. I've seen one along the shore of a lake I was canoeing on (and along the road from the window of my truck many times). I've never met one personally (although my husband has). I've met coyotes, deer, rabbits, snakes, bald eagles, porcupines, skunks and osprey, and one time I think a cougar was eyeing me up for dinner potential. Grouse are the worst, scaring the kaheebies out of me on many occasions. But no bears. They're too smart to be seen very often, usually heading the other way when they hear people. BUT the prudent side of me guides me away from silly chances. When I see fresh prints in the snow, I go the other direction. When my dog gets antsy and upset, I go the other direction. I cache my food if I'm camping in bear country, don't cook in my tent, and I carry bear spray on my belt ready for instant use. But honestly, I'm way more scared of being maimed by a drunk driver than I am of being attacked by a bear.

On the other hand, I hear koalas have a nasty temper... (hehehehe)
Sorry Teekay, couldn't help myself. Although I admit that I've often wondered about how Aussie's can be so nonchanlant about crocodiles, pythons, sharks, and really nasty spiders. I think I'll stick with my cougars and rattle snakes! :-) (Not quite true, I really want to see Australia.)

Mary, I've finished reading my other book. Card is next!

I have full intentions of reading things in the workbook. Soon. When my eyes will focus correctly again. And I'm still working on my contribution for *P*, titled 'Daniel'.

Must go now.
TTFN
T.J.

Here's a little gem my father sent me. How many Coca Cola drinkers in here?


Just when you thought you knew everything....

1. In many states the highway patrol carries two gallons of Coke in the trunk to remove blood from the highway after a car accident.

2. You can put a T-bone steak in a bowl of coke and it will be gone in two days

3. To clean a toilet: Pour a can of Coca-Cola into the toilet bowl...Let the "real thing" sit for one hour, then flush clean.

4. The citric acid in Coke removes stains from vitreous china

5. To remove rust spots from chrome car bumpers: Rub the bumper with a crumpled-up piece of Reynolds Wrap aluminum foil dipped in Coca-Cola.

6. To clean corrosion from car battery terminals: Pour a can of Coca-Cola over the terminals to bubble away corrosion.

7. To loosen a rusted bolt: Applying a cloth soaked in Coca-Cola to the rusted bolt for several minutes.

8. To remove grease from clothes: Empty a can of coke into a load of greasy clothes, add detergent, and run through a regular cycle. The Coca-Cola will help loosen grease stains.
It will also clean road haze from your windshield.

FYI:
1.The active ingredient in Coke is phosphoric acid. Its pH is 2.8. It will dissolve a nail in about 4 days.

2.To carry Coca Cola syrup (the concentrate) the commercial truck must use the Hazardous material place cards reserved for Highly Corrosive materials.

3.The distributors of coke have been using it to clean the engines of their trucks for about 20 years!

Drink up!

Now how many Coca Cola drinkers here? It's Pepsi for me, thanks. Dr. Pepper actually. Or grape juice. Coffee for sure. Mmmm...coffeee... *drool*
*smiles*
Allein

Heather,
Why do you want me to be given a vasectomy?
Are you serious?
Oh, I'm so happy!
I'll have it done first thing in the morning, then.

Mary,
you've lost a point but won two. Keep up with the good work.

Hi All,

HEATHER: JERRY's prison was modified. They turned on the gravity to drain the pee. What do you mean modified since then?
Can't wait to read you **P** story.

MARY: Dang gal. Ah knewd dat. I wis jis pullin' yis lag.

ALLEIN: I don't need to go to that site to know that my perfect pet is a dead blade of grass.

DEBRA: I don't really have a fear of bears. I just find it amazing how people who live where bears are still seem to nonchalantly wonder around in wild life parks and such, without a cage, or gun, or some form of protection.
I don't think I will tell you my analysis because it is really quite personal and you may not wish to hear it and then you'll probably hate me for ever. Sorry.

I wasn't going to say this before, but as it's in your post I thought I'd mention it. I eally liked your story, it's just at the end when you stated that Alice was wiser she was in actual fact more ignorant than when the story began (which is probably 100% probable fo a nine year old girl) That was the only think that didn't ring true with me as wisdom means knowing that which is true, (Or something like that, I'm too lazy to get up and get a dictionary.) but she veered off to the left somewhere and didn't really learn any kind of lesson from her incident, but to blame others for the choices that she herself made.

MARY: Bet the kids Hate having to make up time.

Gotta go.

Hi there,
HALLEE,
I think we must be on close to the same weather level. Yesterday was beautiful, but today has turned cooler and there are showers here and there. My sister and I went to the Fleamarket this morning and just got started shopping when it got dark and started raining. Lightning, the whole 9 yards. By the time we got out of the parking lot,(almost a half-hour to exit the lot) it had stopped and cleared up. Big disappointment.

I took the dog test and maybe I slanted it because it said my No. 1 dog was a toy poodle. I have a miniture poodle now and had a toy poodle for 17 years before that. I tried to make my choices as wide as possible but my subconscous must have taken over. Oh well, don't need another dog anyway. I have three now.

Everyone take it easy and find time to read and write.
Rosemary

Hi all,
Just took two more tests (on the same website - click on cats or dogs) - the perfect cat for me is the sphynx - i.e. hairless. Which, might be good since I'm allergic to cats but I'd prefer a cat with hair. My perfect dog would be the Canaan. I got a 77% match on the Australian Shepard which is partly what Pepper is. Cocker Spaniel didn't come up on my list, but English Springer Spaniel was in there. Also in there was the Chihuahua and the Dachshund (weiner dog). I like these two dogs.

Anyway, today's picture is an anime-style drawing of my friend, Ruth.
*smiles*
Allein

Hello Jack, and everyone else. I seem to have screwed up on the email thingie, so I don't have it right now, but that's no big deal. I find this whole internet thing to be too much of a distraction for me sometimes, and have to find a way to regulate myself on it. Right now, because it's such a new toy for all of us, the kids're into NAPSTER and constantly downloading stuff. But tomorrow school starts again, and so does afternoon shift, so I'll be able to do something to fix all those little problems I've come across.

Anyway, I look forward to seeing you in May if you can make it, you pretty well pass by my house on the way to Burnaby.

As for the website for PAPERBYTES it's at PAPERPLATES.ORG/PBYTES.HTML It's a small online mag that used to be a paper rag. I won't be on it for about a month or two they tell me, so I have to wait just like everyone I've told about it. It's long too, about 17,000 words or something like that, but that's what I like to write: Long stories.

I'll just pop in here once in a while because I'm so far behind on where you people are right now, I'll just hang in the wings. Don't wanna step on anyone's toes or rehash old subjects again.
Ben

You're right, Jerry, that is a good story with the underlying theme about man's corrupt strangle-hold on vital parts of itself. (That could sound a little off)
I think the darkest peek into the future could reveal that we don't have one... but that's so depressing, isn't it?

Tomorrow is, after all, what we make it today.

I will catch up on the posts now and may make more comments later!

Heather

Thanks to all for the kind words about my two stories. I agree that "Black Hole" should probably go into **P** and I will post it there shortly.

Heather - The miss treatment of prisoners was sort of the underlying theme. I guess I was trying to say the although man has found his way to the stars, and discovered ways to control gravity, he is still man. That as has been said so many times by so many men, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I tried to open a small window to the dark side of the future.

Richard - I wish I had discovered writing at the early age you have, it took me nearly 41 years to discover the joy of story-telling. You do it so well.

Must go for now, the dog is looking at me with a tear in his eye, he has his legs crossed and is whining, I think he wants outside.````````````````

Jerry

HEATHER: Your bus stop story sounds just like mine. Ours was just enough out of the view of my house that I could take off all the hats, scarves, boots, and gloves that my mother insisted I wear outside and ram them into my book bag, trading them for smuggled sneakers and a jacket before any of my friends made it to the stop.

Wet hair, open jean jackets...the whole deal. I don't remember what age I was when I started this rebellion, but early teens sounds about right.

One quick note about severe weather though. If it drops below ten degrees here, whether we have snow or not, school is cancelled. Something about not wanting students who walk to school, or wait at a bus stop having that exposure. The school system in our district is allowed five cancelled day on account of snow or severe weather, but we almost always exceed that number and have to make up time at the end of the year.

Mary:

I didn't think a thing. I feel like I am in the company of friends here. Anything that is said to me I take with the idea it's meant in the nicest way.

Teekay:

Consult, bring it on. I would love it. Does your fears of bears sound like my dream at all? I do have the happen to me a lot like you said. Sometimes I will think of someone I haven't thought of in a long time and then poof there they'll be.

Heather:

Wow, that's cold.

I wanted Alice to be nine years old so she could have placed her tongue on the pole and still be believeable. Teenagers now-a-days, well. I made her in that shcool to explain the outfit also, I believe that kids are at the bus stop in the wrong clothes. I too went to the bus stop in some pretty wrong outfits in the winter. That's where I got the words for how she felt in the cold. That was purely from expeience.

Debra

TEEKAY: Hiya girlie! That was supposed to say april 22nd of this PAST year. After I realized what I had posted I crossed my fingers and hoped nobody would notice.....I shoulda known betta. ;-)

ALLEIN: Took the quiz you linked too. I scored 100% for a dog, 84% for a cat. I think chinchillas were next. Fun test to take..thank you.

HEATHER: Hugs to you for making me feel not like a complete idiot. Can't wait til you shake the cobwebs off your **P** idea so we can see it.

CHRISTI: No....I don't really have a photographic memory. I do remember things very clearly but I don't think that qualifies.

JON: My apologies. I should know better by now than to let you bait me into things.

DEBRA: I am sure that you are very accepting of all input on your stories. You are a stable, well rounded person who is working very hard to realize a dream. I hope you didn't think that I meant you aren't.

I have been a bit busy updating a number of web sites, but just noticed that Ben had made an appearance. Congrats on the publications. Hope all is well with you. We are hoping to make V-Con in May as part of our advertising the Westercon 56 bid. So, I may be up as far as Burnaby. Maybe we can arrange for a moment to touch bases again.

Hi all,
I forgot to mention, just go to the 'animals' section and click on 'pets'.
Toodles!
Allein

P.S. For Jerry - I really liked 'The Black Hole' but there is one thing to consider: Wouldn't the prison have changed in that amount of time? Surely it would have been re-modelled, treatment procedures altered, etc...? Hey, even so, it's a great idea and you wrote it very well.

An excellent candidate for P**

Which reminds me, I had an idea for a Phantasium story myself... have to clear away some cobwebs first. A girl needs some sleep!

Heather

Hi all,
I just took this test and it says my perfect pet is a pet rock. Right after it is a cat. I love cats! ***A scratch behind the ears and a kiss for Jon***
The link is above if you want to take it.
*Smiles*
Allein

Debra - I have lived in a climate that sometimes gets to 40 below zero degrees a few nights a year, and in the negative 1 to 15 range (CELCIUS) for more than 4 months. We had to wear snowsuits under our Halloween outfits, so you can guess how many times I went out as a gymnast (ha ha ha)... anyhow, what I wanted to tell you is that at nine years old, I would have been bundled up so much that you could barely see my eyes; but at age 13, I went to the bus stop in 'blizzardocious' snow squalls with no hat, wet hair, and a T-shirt on with my coat unzipped. But I was a teenager, and I had to look COOL. I was also famous for being late, so that's the reasoning behind the wet hair.
Another point - I did not attend Catholic school, so was not forced to wear kilts and knee-high socks through every-weather. But if I felt like wearing a kilt or a skirt, and it was snowing? You can bet I was out there, chattering teeth and knees at the bus stop. Did I tell you about what the boys used to do with snow? That's another story...

Yes, Christi, my shortie was TRUE. And sorry, I completely understand what it's like to lose something like that. My whole portfolio was stolen from me when I lived in the big city (leather cover, huge, filled with 5 years worth of drawings, paintings, and some poetry because it was a good place to keep everything together). I cried for weeks.
Ms. MacIntyre had the straightest and the blackest hair I had ever seen, and she looked something like a mix between Janet (with glasses) from Three's Company and the dark haired one in Charlie's Angels.

Mary, you don't have to defend yourself from Jon. Your comments were genuine, as always, and never mind that little nasty beast. He should have long ago been given the catsvasectomy and a nail file.(HEHEHEHHHH HEH HEH)

A kiss for Jon anyway, because I know his feelings have just been toyed with.

Richard, excellent shortie! Again, you are mature for your age, and your writing talent is growing at top speed.
And you didn't use too many adjectives in your shortie!

Sasquatch, you made me giggle heartily. Do it again! I liked the plunge into humour.
I think I would taste like Angus Beef with a little horseradish on the side.
No, no, maybe chicken caccitore. Oh, wait, maybe swedish meatballs with honey? Hmmmm. Now I'm thinking some sick thoughts, folks.
Must be time for bed.

Heather

JERRY: "what goes round" was fantastic. What a great read. Great ending.

Hi All,
HOWARD: Good shorty!

GARIESS: Ah, you are oBviously a drEAmeR who liKes to hIde away from the reaL ities of Life. PlEase cOuld you tell me what you Pictured me to Look likE. (Unless it's too hideous, then I don't wanna know.)
Good story. Glad to see it had a satisfactory ending. Wonder if he ever found the hat under the bush?

MARY: Jolly good horror story. :-)

JERRY: Yoh! Another **P**. Goody.

CHRISTI: Was reading your story and I got to the part where Meg, after opening her present got all quiet and a bit depressed and I thought 'Oh good God, she's gone and sold her ears to buy her friends present.' but thankfull that turned out not to be so. PHEW! Beautiful story.

HEATHER: Wonderful story. When your famous and they do another 'chicken soup for the writers soul' you should use that story. (if it's true that is.) I still haven't sent "Midworld" hold on. I will get to it.

BEN: CONGRATULATIONS. Is your work also in book form?

HOWARD: See. Those ol' bears just seem to be everywhere. Maybe even at the shops.

DEBRA: That is pretty coincidental. Do you ever come across a new word and all of a sudden it seems to pop up everywhere? I do. Or start singing a song to have it come on the radio at the same time, or being humming it in your head and then somebody starts singing it?

MARY: D-BRA? Now that's a knee slapper. Now that's a knee slapper!
P.S. April 22 hasn't even been this year.
I haven't missed something have I?

GARIESS: I have just read the post about you have nothing left of the original story. Neither do I but you must remember how it ended??? It ended where the boy was carrying the pie down the street to take it to the friends house but the dog attacked him and ate the pie.
This is like reading a good book only to find the last page missing.
And I love you too. I love your humour. I love your tongie in cheekedness. I love your witty wisdom.
Next time you take the mickey out of me, I promise to be flattered. :-D
I do not have a red cap, but do you think a large red bedsock would do the trick???

RICHARD: Bloody hell your talented for a 13 year old. A literary Mozart perhaps. Or maybe I've just forgotten what 13 was like.

CHRISTI: I have an eidetic memory, which is pretty handy during argument with hubby about who said and did what when and where. I don't have a photographic memory though. I think that would be pretty cool.

ALLEIN: I definitely want to see that movie.

JERRY: WOW! And I agree with ROSEMARY.

DEBRA: I have analysed your dream and if you like I shall give you a consult, but I won't until you say you want to hear it. :-)

I've completed chapter wo-hon. I've completed chapter wo-hon. Only 57 or so to go-ho.
Right. Off to look at **P**

Gariess:

Thanks a thousand times over for letting me use your words.

As for the swiping of the hat, I'll bet you never gave it thought for the same reason why you wouldn't right now, you couldn't stand yourself if you did. I'm sure that's the real reason. As for your friends who also didn't steal the hat, well you probably hung out with nice people like yourself. The real prize was the experience and we both know that is not lost with your replica or the book. It's safe and sound where it will always be.

Debra

Debra,

Feel free to use anything I post here. I am flattered.

GS

Christi,

I am sorry to have to tell you that I do not have your book.

As to your question about the renowned hat—do I wish I had kept it? I tried to portray the fact in the story that Mr. Vonnegut was something of a curiosity to us parochial yokels. He was not a famous writer in those days, but he had published his first novel and had just recently quit a job in order to write full time. I never knew what the job was, but he had written short stories for Colliers Magazine. I did not share any superstitions about the hat with Mr. Vonnegut, and so swiping it would never have occurred to me. None-the-less it would make a great conversation piece. I was less than candid in the story in stating that I sometimes wondered where he got the hat. I deduced later that he had gotten it from LL Bean. I saw one just like it in their catalogue in the mid-sixties—same god-awful color and everything. It was very little money so I ordered one, and sure enough it was a replica of the notorious road-kill. That was years ago, and I no longer know where it is—probably with your book.

An interesting thing about Vonnegut Jr. Is that he was very driven to prove himself to his father who must have been some formidable figure to Kurt Jr. He used to write drafts of his letters to the old man and make copious notes on them and file them away. How do I know this? I snooped, of course. One day I might be interviewed in a documentary.

GS

Hey everyone!

ROSEMARY: It is a beautiful Saturday. It's almost sixty degrees outside with a bright blue sky. I think we have this for one more day before (shudder) the teen lows and thirties highs come back.

Oh yeah - I posted the short story I wrote the other day for that contest the other day. I just forgot to say anything about it.

Okay - back to the book. On the final stretch now. I'm supposed to be at my mother in law's half an hour ago to install something on her computer for her - but I think I'll drag it out for another 15 minutes and get a few more paragraphs written.

>>><<< Scratching Jon's ears.

Hallee

Rosemary:

I didn't think you were critizing my story. I understand what you were feeling. I can imagine if you didn't live in a cold part of the country that you wouldn't even believe that kids do sometimes go to the bus stop dressed inappropaiately. They do. That's why I asked the question so you could see.

I think parents can only do so much. I have a full time job of making my nine year old son dress the right way so he can go to the bus stop. I have aged considerable making sure he does. He is only nine. Heaven help me when he gets older. I might just let him stand there in a speedo if that's what he wanted.

I welcome any comments from any of my friends here. I'll prove it now.

Jon:

Thanks. On the part of "whom" I was under the understanding that if you could replace whom with him and it made sense, then it was used correctly. I might have not tested it. Could you tell me the rule as you know it? I'd love that. In the meantime, I'll put whom on the back burner. It it my impression that if a person finds a way to write for a iving they will be supplied with an editor. I do, however, love to use words correctly.


Teekay:

Please read my bear dream. I can't imagine why the first time I ever dream about bears I would walk straight to my computer and see a post from Gariess to you about your fears about bears. In my dream I felt that the haphazard way we were in that situation meant that it could happen anywhere,out of range was a non issue. Is that how you feel? Also could I leave you name in the story? If not I will change it.

Gariess:

Can I leave your post in my story? If not, I will change it.

Debra

i sasquatch have lived all of my life in the north and i have never dressed differently for snow or warm time. if Yeti would see another Yeti with humans covering on would be strange and i think as you say inappropriate. that is a large word which i think it means not as correct.
i sasquatch have also been seeing your talk of eating meat of lower creatures. this is the way of things and we lower creatures accept as part of what is mean to be by the one. some are more tasting good than others. sasquatch will be tough and stringy and bad taste. ha ha i must go.

A Beautiful Saturday to all,

DEBRA,
I didn't mean to criticize your story, I just threw out my first impression. And you're right, the only time I have lived in the north was when I was 8 years old. We lived in the lower part of Michigan and I don't really remember what I wore then. I also didn't have children so my impression of how independent a 9 year old girl is must be way off. I thought the parents were in charge of the childs safety until they were at least 13 or 14. Having lived in the south most of my life, 15 degrees F. sounds dangerous to me.

CHRISTI,
Is Good and Plenty Ice cream licorice? Or is it just a lot of good ice cream?
I'll bet most writers have a touch of paranoia. What other career allows everyone and his crazy uncle to tell you what they think of your work. Not to even mention, we go around begging for the pain. Then we don't believe the good stuff and agonize over the bad. We're not paranoid--everyone's against us.

JERRY,
The Black Hole was excellent, and since it has ghost in it, I think it should go into **P**.

I'm now goint to read your posting in **P**.
Rosemary

JON: I hardly think that the words of encouragement and appreciation that I gave the people here on the Notebook were a disservice. Shortie night is a fun night for all of us to exercise our noodles and establish fellowship. Most (certainly and obviously not ALL) of the stories set here on Thursdays are off the cuff and mine are usually typed right into the posting box. All of them have merit, some of them are wonderful, and every one of them offer something unique.

As an example: The same story that Debra posted as a shortie, if posted in the Workbook, would have gotten a more down to business response from me. I told her I enjoyed her story and I did. That was not an exaggeration. I think it is wonderful that Heather gave her a lot of insight, and that you too gave Debra something to think about. I just personally didn't choose to do that.

That is not to say that I think we should post crummy shorties as they are representative of our site and I think visitors take impressions from them. I am only saying that unless someone asks for a critique on a shortie, I am taking them simply as stories that needed to be told if even imperfectly.

EVERYONE ELSE: I certainly hope that my response to Jon doesnt dilute my comments on your shorties. I sincerely meant what I said and stick by it 100%. Actually I think I just struck a nerve when I told Litter he is a genius and didn't scratch Jon behind his ears.

One final thing before I go...Jon is absolutely right about exaggerated praise. It doesn't do anyone any good. It makes for weak stories and broken hearts. Tactful, constructive criticism is an art in and of itself that most likely all of us could work on improving.

I hope all of you have a wonderful day. I truely do. That is not an exaggeration. Really.

Hmmmmmm...to post or not to post........ah,what the hell....post

Nice story, Debra (I mean, the first one, haven't read the second). The girl was not gullible (what's your dictionary, Heather?) but, on the contrary, incredulous. She paid for her incredulity. Apart from the linguistic inconsistency of the story's conclusion, it reflects the reactions of a nine year old girl, and deserves a good edit. (Never use "whom" again until you know how to use it properly).

Mary, do not exaggerate your praise. That's a bad service to writers.

Heather, are you sure Ms. MacIntyre was not Mr. McIntyre? I think I know that family...

Hi All,
Tomorrow's picture of the day is posted a bit early (what the heck, it's almost midnight). This is a cute one of Sheena, Patches and Tabari.

Christi - The movie is good. Some language, a little sexual stuff and adult situations, but overall, it's a really good movie. I won't say much but he does something really nice for this one lady (whom I can personally relate to) in the end. I highly recommend it. Sometimes I've thought it'd be nice to read guy's minds but most guys my age only have one thing on their mind. Notice that I said most not all, because I know that the guys on the notebook don't think about that one thing all the time.
Pepper is doing wonderful. I gave her some beef and she knocked a piece in her water (she has one of those duel food and water dishes) and she tried to get it with her mouth and then with her foot but she hates water (we found this out when she jumped in the hot tub with my parents) so I had to get it out for her. She's really good at taking food from my hand - I don't think she'd ever bite someone but when she's eating those teeth can look a bit scary. But she really is a sweet dog. Another cute thing she did was when my dog played the song "Who let the Dogs Out" on our computer (we downloaded it on Napster) she went rushing to the computer room. She seems to like that song. She was really playful yesterday - she knocked me down and licked my face like crazy.
Anyway, it's almost midnight, so I'm headed off to bed.
*smiles*
Allein

Christi - thanks for the concern. The wife is feeling some better, her blood pressure has come down to what would be considered high, instead the extreme it has been for the past week or so. Seems to be a reaction to the meds her doctor had her on for the knee thing. Now they can't decide what to do for sure next, the haven't taken her off the pills, as they are the only drug that has helped since she began having the trouble, they just put her on more blood pressure pills, and took her off coffee and salt. They also are taking her off work again for a three month trial. That will make things a mite tough on the old pay check but if it brings her back to normal health then it will be worth the sacrifice.

Glad you enjoyed the short shortie, I think you may have something there about expanding on it, I may give it a look see when things get a little more settled down around the house. It will be nice to have the wife home again even if it means we have to cut back. Her last R&R lasted about two months, and we did enjoy being together. I was concerned when first she said she would be home for awhile that we would get on each others nerves but that never happened. Guess even in our old age we still fit together nicely.

Debra thanks, glad you enjoyed it.

Did you happen to see the one I dropped off in **P** the other day?

Jerry

JERRY, I can't believe I forgot to say how glad I am that you're back with us! I hope your wife is feeling much better.
And what a cool shortie! Prison in zero gravity, what a thought! That could be expanded on for sure.

DEBRA, I hope you don't have that dream again either. Just for you I'm sending a dream of cotton candy lollipops and Good and Plenty ice cream. There, that ought to grab your subconscious' attention. ;)

Jerry:

By the way wow. That was amazing as usual.

I always get excited when I see you posted a story.

I never get disappointed. Of course no one here ever disappoints.

Debra

Christi:

It was weird. I had just walked out of my room from having it. It was just moments before I woke up. I turned on the computer and the first post I saw was Gariess's talking about Teekay's fear of bears. I didn't ever find out what she was afraid of. I know bears. I just didn't get the details.

I'd love to know if it was something like my dream.

I guess I'll wait.

Thanks it was some dream. I hope I don't have it again.

There were so many feelings that I had while I was dreaming it that I didn't put into the story. It wouldn't be short if I had. One of the ws the fear of seeing a loved one die. That is a true motivator.

Talk to you later

Debra

Ok I see there are a few short shorties coming in late. Guess it is never too late to contribute, so here is mine, hope you enjoy it.

The Black Hole
by Jerry Ericsson

The darkness was total. He could hold his hand right before his face yet see nothing. The temperature was regulated to be exactly 75 degrees F. Sound could not penetrate the same walls that kept the light out. Gravity was turned off. He had nothing to drink or eat, no place to relieve himself, nothing. That’s why they call it the hole. He was sentenced to five days in the hole. Five days of total sensory depravation. The only thing that interrupted his punishment was the one meal of bread and water that was pushed under the door. It was on a glowing platter so he could see the food. Not enough light for him to really see anything, just a dim glow but after the first twenty-four hours he welcomed the glow, it allowed him to get a sense of up and down, or right and left, of reality. After five minutes, the guard pulled on the chain that was attached to the platter and he was alone again, floating in the hole. Yesterday he lost it for a short time, and began screaming, it did no good, no one answered his screams for help. Last night, (was it night) he floated into his own urine that floated about in the hole with him. He was horrified yet there was nothing he could do.

The words of the judge echoed through his mind, “Having been found guilty of assault on a peace officer, I hereby sentence you to five years in a facility to be determined by the galactic penology division.”

He never thought it was assault, he had simply jerked away when the officer grabbed him by the arm but that was enough these days. To resist arrest was considered assault. He was in the hole because he resisted the penal guard who was directing him to the laundry. At least that is what the guard said; in reality he simply got lost and turned the wrong way, when the guard turned the other.

As his thoughts brought him back to some sort of sanity, his body bumped into the wall, or was it the floor, the ceiling, who knows. “Sorry” he said to no one.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” said a voice from within the deep of the darkness.

“What? Who? Who are you?”

“I am not real, you are here alone.”

“If you aren’t real, how can I hear you? Am I going crazy, insane, nuts or what?”

“No, I think you are sane or at least you were a second ago.”

He pushed himself away from the wall (floor/ceiling) and began spinning in the weightlessness or at least he thought he was spinning. “Who are you then?”

“A prisoner, much like you.”

“But they only put one person at a time in the hole!”

“I know, I have been so lonely until you came. It is so nice to have company.”
“How long have you been here?”

“I have no idea, you see it was the year 2109 when I was placed in the hole, what year is it now?”

“My God! It is 2314 now!”

“Wow, I knew it was a long time, you see I died in here, alone, drowned when I inhaled my own urine while I was sleeping. That is why when they hear you sleeping, they turn up the gravity just enough to allow your waste to fall to the floor where it is washed down a drain. I know for now that I am dead, I can see, you see we no longer need light or air, or anything for that matter, but we do like company.”

“I have never heard any of the others talk of hearing you when they come out of the hole, why me?”

“Oh my, don’t you know? Of course you don’t how could you, you see you are dead too, you died just before we started talking, heart attack I think, but I would be just guessing. Oh and there is some bad news, and I hate to be the one to tell you, but if you die in here, you will be here for all eternity. You know how to play 2 handed pinochle? Well no worry, we have plenty of time for you to learn.

GARIESS! Wow, whatta story! Dont'cha wish you'd sniped that hat away and kept it?!

HEATHER, I loved the story about your teacher. It was fantastic! You're not going to believe how similar my third grade experience was to yours.

In the third grade I had a teacher named Mrs. Justice, the teacher of all teachers. She was pretty and kind and the first teacher to get me excited about school. She asked if I'd like to participate in a program where I'd be able to write a book. When I was able to stop dancing, I yelled out an emphatic, "YES!" Actually, I was too shy and timid at the time to do anything like dancing or shouting, but oh how I wanted to. I wrote and illustrated my book (I'm sure the drawings were little stick people with triangle dresses) and then it was sent out to be bound under hard cover. When we who participated got them back we had books, our stories written in our own handwriting. (!!!) She entered all our books in an event called "The Young Author's Conference," of which I remember nothing of the outcome. The day came when our books came back from the conference and Mrs. Justice began passing them out one by one. When she'd passed out the last one, I still didn't have my book. She looked everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found; it never made it back from the conference. In my childish imaginings I supposed that my book had been so extraordinary, so inspiring that the judges at the conference just couldn't bear to part with it, and kept it to use as a model for other children everywhere. The sad thing is, I don't remember the name of my book or even what it was about. It probably was about an bicycling penguin or something. Every now and then I remember that book and I find myself disappointed all over again. Isn't that silly?

And now I have to ask, do you have my book?!
;)

BEN, It's very nice to meet you! I attempted to check out your story but couldn't find the site you mentioned.

HOWRAD, I went to Themestream for the first time tonight just to check you out. (Woo woo!) Great poem!

Gee thanks, MARY, DEBRA, ROSEMARY, GARIESS, for saying such nice things. Love to you.

MARY, Do you REALLY have a photographic memory? That always worries me when people say that. I don't know why. It's like they'll never forget anything you say, so you've got to watch every word. Paranoia anyone?

DEBRA AGAIN, That was some dream. I loved how you pulled the ending off. Great!

ALLEIN, Tell me how the movie is; I want to see that one. How's Pepper?

RACHEL, How goes it? Still got that energy kick or have you entered the misery stage? My wish for you is that you skip the misery and go straight to having your little one.

RICHARD, Nice shortie. The title was great too!
I began reading your novel and thought it to be very well done. I've only read one Star Wars book before. Yours seems to be as good as the one I read; keep it up! I'll give you a crit when the time materializes.

And last, but most certainly not least, TEEKAY ... where are you? Gee, sometimes I feel like a shepherd ... ;)

Hasta la night night,

Christi

I've posted the first chapter and a half of Call to Action - love some comments on it, though annoyingly there's TWO lines between each paragraph now because I pasted the raw HTML from the file and forgot the notebook did it automatically *fume*

I've had some great teachers as well. Mr. Maxwell was my last one - he had a really quirky personality and sense of humor. He also had a big black bushy mustache, heh.

The thing I liked about his classes was he really encouraged us to look closely at whatever we were studying and try to find the hidden meanings. In high school its like they're just cramming us with as much knowledge as possible and moving on. Right, this means, this that, everyone okay? Right NEXT!

Mrs. Teasdale is my teacher now. She encourages me to write and stuff, but in a way I still miss Mr. Maxwell. His class was always fairly laid back and yet it made us think at the same time. The thing I always dread is getting a teacher whose stern, shouts a lot, doesn't encourage discussion and forms no bonds with pupils. Luckily, I haven't got one of them yet...

Sorry I missed Shortie Night - again! - but I had a freind round yesterday and we watched all four star wars films in a row, solid! I woke up at 12 a.m this morning and have been writing Call to Action for the rest of the day.

So, lets see if I can slip in a late shortie. Hmm... think...

Sanctuary

She caught him crossing the space between the stairs and the door to the study. "Jack?"

A slight boy, Jack stopped and performed a very strange manuever, hopping onto his left foot and then rotating himself 180 degrees. "Mum?"

Here it goes, she thought. "I wrung up your freind Thomas and asked him if he'd like to play. He said yes, if you wanted to. You could take your bikes..."

Jack looked pained. "Mom... I'm kinda busy y'know..."

She folded her arms. "Jack. All you ever do is play on that stupid computer..."

"I don't play Mum," he objected. "I've got freinds on the net! We're meeting to play a tournament of Jaggenfall..."

With a sigh, she turned away and let him escape into the confines of the small study. She glanced at the unwashed dishes piled up beside the sink. She couldn't be bothered to handle it right now. Tired, she slipped into the sitting room and collapsed onto the couche.

Jack bounded into the room an hour later, startling her from a light sleep. Groggily, she listened to his excited chatter about some obscure competition he'd come second in. On the computer, she thought. Always that computer.

"That's nice dear," she said, yawning. "Well done."

***
The door clicked shut behind Jack. The end of another day. His chest felt heavy. God, he hated school. He'd seen High School as an adventure at first, but the oppressive atmosphere smothered him now. New oppurtunties came mixed with new kinds of pain.

He let the heavy bag slide off his shoulder and hit the carpeted floor, stuffed with books, jotters, stationary and work files. His mother laughed when he called school a prison. She was right, it wasn't.

It was a torture chamber.

Not wanting any more lectures, Jack tiptoed toward the study and slipped inside. Seating himself in front of the computer, he basked in the glow of the tabletop lamp. Hitting the power key, he leaned back, feeling strangely at peace with his surroundings.

Once he was into windows, he logged onto the net and clicked on the mailbox shortcut in the task bar. A sing-song tone resounded from the speakers, telling him he had mail. A grin crept over Jack's face as he read the message. Looking down to the keyboard, he began to type away.

Things might be bad in his life - but there would always be those freinds he could not see, those with lessened capacity - and less desire - to hurt him.

___________

Taadaa! Hmm, I must now meditate in an attempt to discover whether I have fallen to this same fate...

Nah, I'm not far gone...

?

Hallee:

Thank you for saying that. Again my story has merit.

Also,the other one I just posted about my dream. I forgot to mention that when Wanda,me ,turned around she saw that the door had no door knob on the inside. That is why she didn't just open it up and run out the way they came in. It is a very important detail to leave out. I actually didn't leave it out on purpose.


Oh yea it's also loaded with typo's which I will fix whenever.

Thanks Hallee

Debra

DEBRA: My father was stationed at Ft. Drum, NY for three years, where the temeratures easily plummet well below zero most of the winter. My brother and sister, high school students at the time, dressed extremely inappropriately. According to my mother, my little brother would actually bundle all the way up except for the shorts he insisted he wear on a daily basis. Of course, they weren't 9 years old and he was a good foot taller than my mother at the time...hahahaha

Hallee

Hi all,
Not very much time - I'm headed to see What Women Want - I've heard this one is good.

Today's drawing is of Quachik and Chélon when they were younger (ten maybe).
*smiles*
Allein

Thanks for kudos received, and many praises sung to my fellow notebookers, each and every unique voice has talent and ingenuity.

I agree that it is a precious thing to have been taught a portion of third grade by an incredibly caring teacher, and have had many good experiences in grade school on account of having a few great friends (namely one) and some really awesome teachers. I had more than one excellent teacher, but the most influential would be Ms. MacIntyre. Unfortunately she was only our teacher for four short months. For such a diminutive period of time, she sure made an impact on my life!
But we needn't have had great teachers in our youth to have confidence in our abilities now, by any means. It just helps. Our adult life instead could be filled with supportive, helpful people who encourage our creative and technical growth when it comes to writing: the notebookers, and our families.

Or we could have one heckuvan amazing self-confidence gained solely by grabbing life by the teeth, and holding on. Though riddled with pitfalls and slippery slopes, we have all gathered here for a reason: to celebrate the love of writing, and to work steadily towards making the most impact. (Drill it home, dentistes)
Hey, if we need, we can always pick up some tools to ease the heady ride up.

Hi All: I turned my computer on this morning after having a bad dream. I wrote a short story about it. I changed some of the names. I'm posting it. I hope no one minds.

Debra

CAN YOU BEAR IT


“There you are,” Wanda frantically called to her eight year old son, Jason.
“I have been searching for almost half an hour.” Wanda grabbed in his direction to hug him and his friend Adam.
“I’m glad they were together.,” she thought.
“Mom I’m hungry.” Jason proclaimed as if unaffected by the events of the past half hour.
“Well you’re in luck for the second time today.” Wanda giggled in pure relief.
“Here’s a restaurant right here.” Wanda was pointing to a black door. She didn’t even know how she knew it was a restaurant. She just knew. The door almost wouldn’t open. She just chocked it up to her little frame and the fact that she was almost forty. She finally gave it one big shove. The door flew open and banged on the wall behind it. She walked right in. It immediately revealed a dingy looking dinning room with only three, empty, metal tables. Jason and Adam trustingly followed her in. Wanda instantly realized that this was by far the most disgusting place she had ever seen. She was not eating here. It didn’t matter how hungry Jason was.

As soon as all three figures were completely through the door, it slammed closed. The thick metal door slammed so hard that all their stomach’s vibrated from the force. Startled, they all turned simultaneously to look back. Wanda was the first one to turn her head back towards the dinning room.
“Whoo, shit, where did he come from?” She whispered to herself. There what almost looked like it was sitting on a chair at one of the tables, was an over six foot black bear. He was eating an apple. He turned his head toward at all three figures as if he were expecting them.
“Okay. Don’t panic boys.” Wanda was panting all her words as if in childbirth. “ He must be trained!” Wanda’s heart was beating so hard she could feel it crashing up against her rib cage.
“Why else would he be here?” Her mind was racing wondering how she could have gotten herself into this mess.
“Okay we will just go around him, not to fast.” Wanda warned. She wanted the boys to walk at an even keel. She rounded the table scraping her left hip on the little half wall that which was the only thing separating them. It was at this time she found herself face to face with this gigantic beast. The two boys started to panic and began running pushing her to do it too. She quickly responded by running, as did they all. Wanda turned in her fright to see that this human train had her son as a caboose. Thinking fast she stopped long enough to let them pass. This would allow her to grab their shirts and make them run faster.
“It’s amazing how many thoughts can go through your mind in microseconds when it is in a state of horror.” Wanda thought.
Wanda was still in swiping distance when the bear suddenly realized that a three-course gourmet meal was trying to slip out the back. He sprang to life leaping over the table straight towards Wanda and the two little boys. Horror turned into pure electricity and ran through all three figures. Their running turned into a full fledge stampede.

Even though Wanda was last she directed the boys where she wanted them to run almost telepathically. There were so many directions to go. She was confused what this place was now. It was clearly not a restaurant. The bear was on their tail. His claws scratched mercilessly on the cement floor as he raced towards them. He opened his mouth and let out a roar so loud the reverberations seemed to pull at their skin. The terror multiplied even though Wanda didn’t think she could feel any more scared. She searched for new ways to go in what she was finding out second by second was a maze of gray cement. They had come to a dead end. Wanda’s head moved in rapid successions, which looked like she was saying no to someone.

The bear was right around the corner. She could see he was on his hind legs by his shadow. At that moment she looked up and saw a window with a hard metal screen covering it.
“Hold on boys,” Wanda screamed in a shrilling terror stricken voice. She hopped up with more energy than she had ever experienced and crashed the screen through to the ground below. Quickly she grabbed her son and pushed him through as if she were throwing a sack of potatoes. She turned and reached for Adam. That’s when she saw the bear standing in the doorway looking at her. No clear thoughts could be registered as she picked up Adam and pushed him through the open window. The beast rushed at Wanda. He his height was so menacing she gave up her fight for life. She started to lie down on the floor to wait for death to come. He charged at her and knocked her the rest of the way. As he raised his hand to sink his claws into her flesh, she rolled out of his reach. She didn’t know why but she crawled up his back and used his course needle like fur as handles. She pushed herself through the open window. The bear pushed his head right behind her and grabbed the back of her shirt.
“Oh, my God, Wanda screamed in horror to see the two boys in their new predicament. They were all in the top of a tree in the outdoor section of the bear exhibit. There were three more bears coming in towards them. The original bear was still in the window making hideous screaming sounds that made their whole bodies quake.

“Mom,” Jason shook her shoulder. “Mom, I’m sorry to wake you but it’s time for school and my lunch isn’t in the fridge.”
Wanda’s eyes opened and she sprang up. The nausea was premeditating the walls of her stomach.
“Ha huh huh,” Wanda panted and looked around to see she was in her bedroom.
“Mom, what’s the matter?” Jason asked.
“Oh nothing, honey. You just saved my life that’s all.” Wanda finally realized it was all a bad dream.
“Am I buying or are you making my lunch? I have to leave in half an hour.” Jason pressed.
“Okay. I’m coming.” Wanda waved her arm for Jason to leave her room so she could get out of bed in dignity.

Wanda walked down stairs trying to shake off the fright. She clearly knew that it was a dream. Why was she so scared?

Turning on her faithful computer she clicked on to her favorite site for writers. She had plenty of time to make Jason’s lunch. She would just calm herself by reading a little of the notebook first.

As the site appeared Wanda couldn’t believe her eyes.

Gariess Thu Jan 4 21:34:05 PST 2001
Teekay,

I see that you are on about the bears, again. It is so strange that you have this phobia of a creature that exists nowhere near you. Or maybe it could be that a nice safe phobia to have is one that is no immediate threat. Still, I sense something almost Freudian about this obsession. Is there such a thing as "almost" Freudian? Actually, should you ever be in a place that has bears, you would be served well to turn this neurotic preoccupation into a realistic caution. Bears are very dangerous animals and the best place to be is well-the-hell away from them.

GS

“Could this mean nothing? Could it only be a coincidence?” Wanda thought. Maybe she should write down her dream. It might be the only way to get rid of this fright.

Wanda sat in front of her computer remembering every awful minute. She let her fear move from her torso into the computer. When she was done, the fear was gone and it’s place a new short story.


Debra

Howard:

I live in the upper right hand corner of Rhode Island.

Please tell Rosemary that you have waited at the bus stop dressed inappropariately at some point in your life.

You have? Right?

Where do you live?

Debra

MARY -- Now that you mention it, I do remember posting something about that a while back. Hope it came out the same as before!

Knee-slapper!? oMIGOSH! Now there's a thought! It ain't only bears that keep popping up around here -- it's mammalian protuberances too!

DEEBRA -- Where in the northeast?

Ben,

Good to hear from you, Congratulations on publicating your work. Must have a look.


Litter,

Your wit is showing, and brevity is the soul of it.

GS

Heather,

That was a sweet shorty. You can usually spot the bright ones at an early age. Such a special bond can exist between a great teacher and her students. I remember one especially caring teacher from my grade school. There should be at least one to a childhood. Too bad it isn't the kind of thing that can be legislated.

GS

Guys:

My dream about bears was so fiightening and to get up to turn my computer on and find you all talking about bears was, well too much to bear.

I am writing it in a short story. Can I post it when I'm done? I've never dreamt about bears before. I don't think I can wait until next Thrusday.

I'll try to write another one by then.

Huh?

Debra

Christi,

That was a very moving shortie. Very touching even though a bit on the girlie side for us masculine types... sniff, sniff.

GS

Teekay,

I am amazed to learn that you also have a tongie, I am sure that if I stuck mine out I would be arrested at once. By the way, what did you mean by "I hope it has an ending?" Am I known for writing stories without endings? Aha, it just dawned on me. It’s that damned thing about the kid and the dog. I thought I explained to you that I lost the whole thing in my computer, and could never face up to rewriting it. I have not a single remnant of the original piece anywhere, but I promise you this: if you have any of it that you can email me, I will flesh out the whole from what you send me, and return it to you complete. That way you will have your own personal story from me. I will consider it sufficient atonement for having ragged on you about the bears. You do know I only do it ‘cause I love you, don’t you?

GS

HOWARD: Did you know that you told the same bear story on April 22nd this year? Don't ask me how I know that...I told you I have a photographic memory.

D-BRA? Now that's a knee slapper.

Sorry I missed you...had unexpected company and had to jet.

Howard:

Good one. I was called d-bra by the boys in my neighborhood.

So I can relate.

Debra

DEB -- Don't think I didn't catch that little play on my name! Teekay and I had a thing going about bears, and you hadda jump in with one of my nicknames! (just kidding) :-)Actually I have been known to answer to that...

BEN - Welcome back! I do remember you from way back when... I'll certainly take a look at your story!

I just posted "Hazel" on Themestream. Take a look at www.themestream.com and do a search on TUCKEY and you'll find some stuff.

b o y h

howard

Hi all,
CHRISTI,
Your story almost made me cry. It is a rare thing to have a friend that close. It was not Juvie at all. (Especially after Beaky) The real world has enough sad endings--I rarely write one.

HEATHER,
Your story was beautiful. My father was Military and we moved so often I have few memories of Elementary and Middle school teachers. I now know I must have missed something.

ALL the shorties have been worth while. I'm not going to say I loved them all, but I didn't hate any of them. Writing a cohesive piece with that few words is an art I have yet to master but I'm still trying.
There are masters of the short shorty here. My hat is off to all of you.

By,
Rosemary

Teekay:

How weird. I just had a bad dream about a bear this morning. ONly a few minutes later, I got up and turned on my computer and found people talking about your fears about bears. As far as my dream goes, your fears are for good reason. Be afraid be very afraid. I'll tell my dream next week in a shortie. Well, I hope I can keep it short.


Mary went to the chat room. You were not there.

Sorry.
Debra

Great shorties all!

GARIESS -- Kurt Vonnegut!? You do travel in elite circles! My only claim to fame is that I know all youse guys on the Notebook!

MARY -- Nice pictures! I looked at them the day you posted, but got a scripting error along with the pix.

Cutting edge -- hmm... That was inspired by "Incident at Owl Creek Bridge" by Ambrose Bierce, and by "A Bullet in the Brain," by Tobias Wolf. Both are excellent stories that span only a few seconds, but are told in delicious slow motion.

It's snowing here too, but according to the weatherdrone we're only supposed to get a couple of inches. Right. Like the 18 inches of "partly cloudy" we got a coupld of years ago.

TEEKAY -- Bears? Not to worry. A few years ago our #3 daughter was out blackberrying with the neighbor we used to help. They were on the state land a few miles from here, and had found some very nice berries. Andria had a bucket just about full, and hollered to Gladys, who she could hear on the other side of the bushes she was picking on. Gladys ansered her, from behind another clump of bushes! So Andria stuck her head around the clump where she was picking, and came up almost nose to nose with a black bear! She went one way, the bear went the other, and as far as I know, the bucket hasn't come down yet!

back on yer heads
howard

Hello Jack!!
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in. My God, it's been what, three, four years since I've been here? And this place is going stronger than ever. I'm impressed. A lot.
I'd have to spend a year just reading the archives to catch up. I'm gonna have to go in there and find all the old friends who seem to have drifted away with the years anyway...but I just wanted you to know that I'm published and will be showing up on the web sometime in either late January or possibly February--of course I could be wrong and it won't be until March or April--but that doesn't matter to me. The site is PAPERBYTES.ORG, and the story is ST. FREDA. Check it out when you get a chance.
Oh yeah, I'm on line now. It's taken this long for me to actually get back on line. I didn't want to screw with my computer and put new things on it. It's my typewriter. This one is for the kids, and when I look through the history, you can tell. Hotmail and chats, I spend more time monitoring them than I do looking for my own interests. I have to get up pretty early if I want to get on line before them...but I always have been an early riser.
I trust everything in your neck of the woods is fine. Fran? Have you even bothered to try and cash in on the cross border shopping yet? I can't believe the last time we actually talked really was the last time--(that's pretty good, eh, you guys' can use that if you want)--oh yeah, and the concert wasn't that bad either, even though those guys went bust as well. But I think we had more fun sitting in this little tiny bar we found on the way to the concert, just after we parted company, where we drank huge amounts of different tequillas and beer. Small wonder why the concert was so good, eh?
Anyway, I wish you all the best in the coming new year, and continued success with what has got to be the hottest, and the bestest, site for writers on the Net. Carry on, and I'm always open for a beer--unfortunately the car's not so shit hot (wasn't that the problem last time?) and I doubt if it could make the long ride to Seattle--there's less rain and snow up here in Vancouver anyway...thank God for global warming. (Gee I sure hope that didn't offend any of the sensitive people out there, but when you consider I remember having snow and rain for the entire winter months when I was a kid, and loving it, and now that I'm in my forties we get snow for about three or four days at a time and I have to work outside...well, what did you expect me to say?)

Back again to say hello to RICHARD and to tell DEBRA that I am going to the chat room if she has time to join me.

EDDIE: where are you?

TINA: Hiya.

ALLEIN: Thanks again for the great illustrations.

Mary:

I was planning to post a list just like yours all except for mine of course.



Can I just say what Mary said?

Christi, I'm so jealous that no one has ever given me a gift like that. I was a little choked up at the end too.
Nice.

I really like shortie night. I'm sure that most of you noticed I don't usually post one. I get a little busy from time to time. Also, my husband sees me sitting here writing as an insult to him. Can you imagine?

It's as if he would be satisified with half a wife just so he could get more attention.

Anyway, my list is just like yours for the praise.

Debra

Good Morning Everyone!

Another successful shortie night. I have just finished enjoying all the stories over my coffee. It is a wonderful feeling that every week it takes me longer to read them all.

DEBRA: I enjoyed your story very much.
GARIESS: Wonderful as always.
CHRISTI: You made me all misty at the end.
HEATHER: Inspiring....something you are so very good at.
HOWARD: Cutting edge of course.
ROSEMARY: Big smiles to you.
HALLEE: Thank you.
MARK: Just great...and your dogs sound absolutely perfect.
TEEKAY: I love a little spice.
LITTER: Last but certainly not least...you are a genius.
If I missed anyone....there will be an amendment post after this one. ;-)

Duke is still stuck to me like glue and I can't get over how fast he learns. I am beginning to wonder if he is just faking me out and someone else already taught him all this stuff.

GARIESS: I know exactly what you mean about the picture/Poirot thing. I even told myself the same thing, but curiosity got the better of me and I can't stop myself from looking. I like to know the real thing. Plus I love to know how close I was. So far the only person I had correct was Teekay.

My husband came home a little late from work yesterday with a bag from the bookstore. He had bought his own copy of "Ender's Game". He said that I ran threw it and had it in the mail so fast he didnt have a chance to say he wanted to read it. He has been keeping up with the posts here as well and heard so many good reviews that he couldn't help himself. I haven't started "Ender's Shadow" yet, which I originally thought was a sequel, but turns out to be the same exact story as "Game" ,told from a different POV.

Have a great day everyone. Hope your weather isn't as harsh as ours is right now. It is getting warmer but the trade off is buckets of snow. The snow in my yard has reached the bottom branches of the crabapple tree in my side yard. Wow. It's still coming down.

One typo: should have read 'news' instead of 'new'...

Christi, I'll bet dogs find that everyone has an odour peculiar to them, and dogs probably have a grand old time rating them! Sort of a warped perfumer's convention. Perhaps they share the news of the latest '10 pluses' in example form at the neighbourhood pee poles?
(I think my sides are in pain from your hilarious remarks!)
And a really cool shortie, too.

Everyone, very good shorties tonight!
Gariess, I liked what you said about Poirots. I think I have the classic lightbulb one in my head when I think of you, but the man behind the underpants may be a little different than say, Teekay's personal Gariess Poirot.

Here's to 'Poirots'; just one more reason get into a good book.

And here is my belated (and a little lengthy) Shortie night contribution, as promised:

Thank You Card

©Heather Myles, 2001


Grade three was one of those years I remember most because of my teacher, and the way she encouraged people to do things they might not have thought to before.
She brought me from the shy corners and into the limelight, which seemed to reach out from her astounding presence. I squirreled away time from chores and family life for my simple creative endeavors in one way or another, secretly, at the safety of my desk in my room. Oh, no, it’s nothing worth gossip, but for me it was something I didn’t dream for aloud.

I always felt under a slight shadow in my house. I was the different child, who did odd things at strange times, for no apparent reason. Not malicious acts of cruelty, but artistic experiments that consumed many hard-earned hours. I lived in a house that was spotlessly clean, and any repair jobs were undertaken within the split second of discovery. The roof of my house sheltered four calculators and one quietly wild calligraphy pen.

I wrote more than the requirement in the daily journals that we worked on each morning in school. I loved writing. It felt like the winds of heaven when I’d get it back and there would be a joyful comment from my teacher under each entry.
One day my teacher announced that we would be working on a special project that she hoped would be ready by the end of November. Before telling us what the project entailed, she had us all take out our notebooks, pencils, erasers and colouring supplies. Anticipation took our collective breaths away. She always had the coolest ideas.

We were to write a short story, and we were going to draw the pictures to go with it. Then, as a one-day class workshop, we were going to bind those pages of story into real, solid, lovely books!
Mine was the only book 25 pages long, so long in fact that my teacher had me take it to the school secretary to be typed up.

The book sits to this day in my hope chest at my mother’s house. ‘Lilly Lambchop’ it is called, and in it are adventures of Lilly, her friend Sandy, a stray cat soon named ‘Fantasia’, and Lilly’s parents, who allowed her to keep that cat. It was long enough to consist of three chapters, and each chapter was definitely what I would, even now, consider an episode; the whole book actually felt like one cohesive unit.
‘Lilly Lambchop’ was the class behemoth, and it was read aloud by our school’s librarian to each and every face that sat in front of her all week. Then ‘Lilly’ took a three-month visit to City Hall. I was so proud that I included a little ‘author’s biography in the back before it made the trip.

At Christmas I made my teacher pure strawberry jam. I scooped it into a hand-made pottery jam jar with a cork lid, one of my mother’s specialties that she made on her potter’s wheel at home. My teacher sent me the most wonderful thank you card in the mail. She wrote that one day, she believed I would be a great writer and illustrator. I read the note over and over, and tucked it into my desk so I could pull it out and read it again, whenever I wanted to.
Shortly after New Year’s, when we were all back in class and the snow down every street was piled higher than our heads, our teacher tearfully broke the new that she would be transferred to another school by the following week. The whole class cried.
I had a sinking feeling it was because she was too nice, too happy; too energetic with her creative encouragement. Her name is Ms. MacIntyre. In my nine-year old eyes, filled with hot tears at her permanent departure from my world, she was the one that had the most faith in me.

I still have her card.

MARY, You'd better watch out for the girlie dogs cruisin' the block. It won't take long!
BTW, I cheated and didn't sign your guestbook yet. I'll slink back later and do so.

DEBRA, Great longie-shortie!

HALLEE, Hiya! I'm finally feeling on top of things, and thank you very much for asking.

LITTER, Haw haw! and a GROAN, grumble, grumble. NOT fair, that bit about Christmas. I couldn't be happier to see it go.
Whew! Remind me not to cross a Celt or get one cross. ;) I'll take the nape to navel, please.

Rosemary, Hoorah, a happy ending!

TINA, Check your mailbox, girlfriend, and be not afraid. For I bring you tidings of great joy ...
Well, maybe not JOY, but I did send your crit!

LITTER again, He's got the dead-man bluuuuuuuuues. Thank you, thank you very much!

HOWARD, Crikey!!! What a spooky shortie!

TEEKAY, Howdy, friend!

GARIESS, Okay, no more hasseling about photos. I already have quite the interesting picture of you in my lil' ol' head anyhoo. (Trying NOT to visualize the ever-famous bulbs ... trying ... trying ... failing ... shit.)

MARK, Your dog sounds so cool! I've often wondered if dogs have a butt-rating scale. You know, like, 'whew, that one's a ranker. I give it an 8.' Strange mood I'm finding myself in tonight. Excuse me, please.


Ye gads, it's a Christmas shortie. Seems I couldn't write one until the season was through. Well, here's what came out. (I hope it's not too juvinile.)

A FRIEND INDEED
By Christine Ritchotte

Megan remembered the thrill she'd had picking out the pretty 1/4 carat diamond earrings with her mother.
"She'll fall over dead when she sees them! She's been eyeing these for the whole year!" she'd exclaimed gleefully as the cashier rang up the purchase.
Her mom had smiled her 'I have a crazy daughter smile' and put her arm around her. "She'll love them, sweetie."
"C'mon, Mom! Let's go have them wrapped." She'd nearly pulled her mom all the way to the gift-wrapping counter, picking out a pretty gold foil with embossed angels on it.

And finally it was time. Christmas Eve. Two best friends sat by a glittering tree and handed each other their gifts.
"You first," said Meg, barely containing herself.
Caroline lifted an eyebrow. "Geeze, keep your pants on. What's the big deal?"
"No big deal, just OPEN it!"
Caroline pulled off the delicate foil and opened the box. Her jaw dropped. "Wha ... ?" Her eyes were as big as saucers.
Meg clapped her hands with glee.
Caroline still sat, unblinking. Finally she spoke. "Are these for real? I mean, are they real diamonds?"
Meg grinned. "Yup. They're the exact ones you've been drooling over, you mutt!"
Caroline looked into the box in awe. "Real diamond earrings," she said, almost to herself. Then she threw her arms around Meg. "Oh thank you Mags!"
Meg hugged her back, feeling warm and happy.
Then Caroline stiffened. She withdrew from the embrace and sat back cross-legged.
"What's wrong?" Meg asked.
Caroline's eyes were cast downward, and her lips pursed in a grim line. "They're just so wonderful ... and what I got you ... well it's not so wonderful.
"Lina, whatever it is, it's from you and I'll love it. I promise!" Meg assured her friend.
"You won't. It's stupid."
"Lina! Please don't say that anymore. It was no big deal, really!"
"Not to you it's not," Caroline said. "You wanna know what I'm getting from my folks this year? Books. Books, because I love to read so much, and because that's all we can afford. So that's all I ask for. Books." Her voice became high-pitched like she would cry. "I made your present. It cost me about two dollars to make."
Meg got serious. "It's not the cost, it's the thought behind the gift." Then she looked down at the rectangular unopened package on her lap. "I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt your feelings."
At once Caroline leaned over and hugged her. "I'm an ungrateful jerk. Go ahead. Open your present."
Meg tore into the brown wrapping and pulled out a lovely fabric-covered book. There was no title--no words at all. The fabric was a sapphire-blue velour, her favourite color. She opened the book and on the first page was a charcoal drawing of herself. It was the perfect likeness; she'd never seen herself portrayed in such a manner. It was as if someone had drawn what she felt like inside. Distantly she heard Caroline's voice.
"It's just a cheap journal that I covered with fabric."
Meg ignored her and turned the page. The top of the next page was headed with the words, "What the moon looks like from my window ... " It was elaborately penned with gorgeous flowers and grapevines swirling around it. The rest of the page was left blank for her to fill in, and each following page had like headings--things that meant something only to Meg. She closed the book gently and looked at Caroline. "I-I don't know what to say."
Caroline blushed in shame. "I know. I'm sorry."
Meg ran her fingers across the soft fabric of her gift. "I've never gotten a more beautiful thing in my life. I'll never forget you for this." As her eyes misted up she leaned over, embracing her best friend as tightly as she could. "I didn't know how well you knew me."

Hi again,
just stuck my nose in while visiting and saw Gariess' post re: my post and all I have to say is phobia schmobia. I did have a bit of a de jevu feeling while typing it, sort of like I'd been there before.

Haven't got time to read the recent shorties but GARIESS I did notice that you have one. Hope it has an ending. :-Q
(that's of a person sticking out their tongie.

Howdy - here I am again. Took the wife to see her Dr. today, more tests. Her problem is the same, with her knee but it seems that the Doctors are afraid to operate on it as she was born without a hip joint on her other leg. They feel if she was to have surgery her recovery would be extremely difficult as all her weight would go on her bad leg and cause more problems.

Anyhow, while waiting in the waiting room, I knocked out what was to be a shortie for tonight but it simply ran on and on. You know how those waiting rooms can be, it seems to take forever for your loved one to come out. Any how, since it became way to long for posting here, I donated it to **P**. Don't know if I will find time to edit it, so I posted it in its raw form.

Jerry

Teekay,

I see that you are on about the bears, again. It is so strange that you have this phobia of a creature that exists nowhere near you. Or maybe it could be that a nice safe phobia to have is one that is no immediate threat. Still, I sense something almost Freudian about this obsession. Is there such a thing as "almost" Freudian? Actually, should you ever be in a place that has bears, you would be served well to turn this neurotic preoccupation into a realistic caution. Bears are very dangerous animals and the best place to be is well-the-hell away from them.

GS

In honor of my new dog Duke.



Frosted blades of field grass crackled under my boot as I watched my dog work. Wide arc to the left until he was almost in front of me....flushing whatever he found right in my direction. With Canada geese honking overhead, the dog froze almost too quickly. He must have stumbled right into something. I barely had my gun to my shoulder when the pheasant had taken all he could take and took to the sky.

The report of the gun echoed off the stands of trees surrounding the field and in an explosion of feathers the bird fell, its descent marked expertly by the dog. Only moments passed before the weight of the handsome ring-necked bird was felt against my back, securely tucked into the pouch in the back of my vest.

I knelt.

"Good Dog."

Hrodaw,

Great shortie, dude. And really short, too. Here's mine. Not so short. What can I do? I'm just a windbag.

THE RED HAT ©
By Gary Souza

In the late winter of 1955 A young writer lived a couple of houses down from us on Crystal Lake Road in Osterville. He lived with his wife and an infant daughter in a two bedroom house that had a second floor balcony overlooking an open living room. The house was of an unusual design from the viewpoint of Cape Cod tradition. On the Cape people traditionally make their interiors with lots of doors, walls and hallways so that one can almost never see more than a few feet of open space from any given point. Still, every so often a "mainlander" will come down and build something architecturally questionable. Such taste for open space would be perceived as bordering on the vulgar by the Cape Cod psyche which is more at home in a closed off, almost secretive ambiance.

I had two younger sisters who were in their first years of high school and so were eligible, by common standards, for entry into the baby sitting market. This decision was made as soon as propriety would allow by a family living on the edge of subsistence. The writer and his wife had frequent social engagements and were regular employers of my sisters.

Interestingly, baby sitting in itself could be a social engagement for teenagers in that time and place. It was a common practice for baby sitters to have friends keep them company during their work hours. This of course presupposed that the employer was informed and agreeable. Often as many as six or seven assistant sitters would be present at a single assignment, usually under the pretext of doing homework.

In the early minutes of one such occasion at the author’s home the man and his wife returned just a few minutes after leaving the house. When my sister saw their car approaching she became alarmed. We were to learn later that this notion of having company in attendance had never actually been cleared with the author and his wife, even though we had gathered at his home a number of times before. It was one of those uncomfortable details that kids so often conveniently leave out of their arrangements. The author had a rather intimidating presence, and my sister, Jeanie, was, by nature, timid enough without presenting to him a request which was likely to make him skeptical. I’m sure it also occurred to her in the beginning that it would be silly to risk a good plan to the temperament of a man so inscrutable as the writer. He just might have said, "No deal."

She announced excitedly to the five of us that we weren’t supposed to be there. This was hardly good timing since we could hear the car door slamming in the driveway as she spoke. There was nothing for it but to brazen it out, which was no problem for me and my friend, Richard, since neither of us could see where we had anything to lose if the old man launched a fit. My sister’s bloomers would surely be in a hitch, but that made the matter all the more intriguing to me.

When the writer came through the door, he was startled for a second or so to see that a small crowd had materialized during his momentary absence. He muttered some cryptic reference to our numbers, but he gave no indication that it was any great concern to him. He was too preoccupied with locating something he had forgotten.

It happened that the man was known to walk around town wearing a particular woolen, knit cap. It was a richly dyed affair with a god-awful red-orange color that didn’t coordinate aesthetically with any fabric known to mankind. It stood out like a beacon wherever and whenever the writer walked about the village, which were many places and very often, respectively. Most people observed that being a brooding professor type, he probably liked to walk around and think a lot. The man’s imposing stature together with his long coat and the lighthouse-beacon cap did little to dispel the idea among the villagers that he was an intellectual weirdo.

The writer had returned to the house for the hat. He paid little attention to us gang of kids and dashed about from place to place in the house grumbling such things as "Where in the hell…?" and "How in the Christ…? and so on. Of course he asked us if we had seen his red hat, and of course we denied vehemently any knowledge of its whereabouts. Even though he received our disclaimers with considerable mistrust he had too little time to spare so he left in a vile temper, slamming the door mightily behind him.

It seems that for reasons only an intellectual weirdo could understand, the writer had some kind of superstitious attachment to the red hat and never went anywhere without it. I doubt that anyone had ever heard him say it was his "lucky hat," but there was no disguising the fact that the man was obsessive about it, especially in light of the disproportionate display of temper we had just witnessed.

The scene was of such intensity as to have pressed us into our seats under a great psychic weight from which we sprang up the moment we heard the car drive away. In the excitement someone spotted what looked like a bright, fresh roadkill on the seat of the stuffed chair in which Sally Webb had been sitting. Sally was a sweet natured girl who was nearsighted to the point of needing wall-thick eyeglasses at all times. It was entirely conceivable to us that Sally could sit down on a Russian tank without seeing it, much less a little red knit cap. After a moment of hilarity my sister suddenly realized that it was then going to be very difficult to explain the reappearance of the hat to the writer when he came home. Richard and I gave it very little worry since we had no intention of being on hand at the time of the man’s return.

What ensued was a contest to come up with a believable place to put the hat - somewhere that it could have been misplaced and still have been overlooked by the writer during his search - no easy task in a small house. Richard and I engaged in a different kind of contest-one to see which of us could offer the most preposterous and annoying suggestions, such as ‘in the oven’ or ‘in the refrigerator.’

The girls were far too agitated to be very creative, and Richard and I hardly sharpened their concentration with our juvenile heckling. At length the girls were so distraught and frustrated that we relented and put our true efforts to the task. We deduced that the best place for the hat would be under a shrub just outside the front door. I believe that when it comes to strategic subterfuge, teenaged boys have a strong genetic advantage over teenaged girls. In any case the girls were so impressed with the genius of our idea that we were immediately celebrated as heroes. From that moment the issue of the red hat was history.

I never saw the writer after that evening. I was to join the Air Force a few weeks later, and when I next came home, the writer and his family had moved away. I saw him in a television interview some fifteen years later and I thought it remarkable that although an eon had passed since that evening of the red hat, he didn’t appear to have aged a day. I, on the other hand, had gone from tender youth to the very brink of middle age.

The writer had gained considerable notoriety throughout the sixties as a result of a few well received novels. Two of his books have been made into feature films. In fact I believe the intellectual weirdo of the old neighborhood may someday be considered one of the most brilliant American writers of the century. Some pundits have already put him in their top ten. I list him in mine as well. He’s still around as far as I know. His name is Kurt Vonnegut Jr. Sometimes I wonder where he got that hat.

Later,

GS

MARY -- Cute dog. We have one that's part Lab, she's also part Terrier. Sad-Eyed-Sally. She's our watchdog, gets her build from the Lab and her personality from the Terrier. 55 pounds.

We also have Fretful Fred. He's part Shepherd and part Hound. Has the deep baying bark of a hound and a hound-like hanging chin. Otherwise he looks like a German Shepherd. He's our 12-year-old puppy, all 67 pounds of him.

He'd make a great shorty.

Saw a card in the pharmacy today that featured a close-up of a Shepherd, nose right up to the camera. Caption on the card was:
"Since you've been gone
"our dog has been sniffing
"the butts of total strangers."

Yup, that's our Fred. And he's just the right height, too. People between about 5'2" and 5'7" have a butt right at Fred's altitude. They're usually women. Interesting watching the men who visit get Fred-nose in the crotch, also.

Anyway, in these winter days of long coats, people come in the house and Fred trails them. One memorable woman looked much like a circus animal, her long gray coat trailing more than a foot out behind her, Fred's two back legs came last.


People ask why we haven't taken him to obedience classes, the simple answer is 'hip displacia.' He was an abandoned puppy we got from our Vet. Somebody set him free over at the university. After we all got attached to him, we found out that his hips were mostly unformed. The vet said that as long as his atitude remained good that we should probably keep him. We needed to be aware, he said, that Fred would not make it past another year. Here he is. Spoiled rotten. Loves to sniff butt.

I'll be out for a few days. Catch back up Monday or Tuesday.

Hi folks,

I must have a word with you on the topic of photos of the Notebookers. I admit to having a peek at a couple of you during the recent madness of picture posting in the ‘book, but I decided to quit while I am ahead.

I have always formed my own mental pictures of the characters in the stories I read, and you have all become characters to me in the sense that I have formed pictures of you that have developed from my impressions of your personalities.

Agatha Christie was known to dislike her popular characters being portrayed on stage and in films. She said, for instance, that there was no one Poirot: that everyone had a personal Poirot who lived in the reader’s imagination. People become fond of their Poirots and when they see someone else’s they find the experience to be disconcerting.

I have my own Poirots of all of you, and I am fond and protective of them all. I am sorry to say that I do not trust the photographic records of your visages to accommodate those that have formed in my minds eye, therefore I will decline looking at photos in the ‘book and will likewise decline to post mine. I just wanted to make myself clear on this issue before it becomes… well, an issue.

GS

SHORTIE NIGHT!!!

I just love thursdays. Thanks to all who signed my guestbook and/or visited my picture page. Big smiles to all of you. (Prize to Litter for being first)

I will surely miss Jerry's eloquent contribution tonight, and am sure that we all are thinking of him and his wife.

I will be back shortly with my short shortie.

Okay, here's a Q&D (quick and dirty) shortie, written on the fly and off the cuff. (Shoulda used paper, I guess)I'll probably rewrite it later, but here's the first draft of a sad tale, about that sudden flash of understanding just before the lights go out...

Ooops!

Damn! Shouldn’t have done that!
Too late now.
But so many things I wish I hadn’t done.
So many things I’m ashamed of. Why did I go to the track this afternoon? Why did I think I could get out of it that easy?
I wish I’d never met Louie, with his big car, and pretty girls. Looked so easy I thought I could be like him, but it didn’t work.
Too late now.
I never should have borrowed the money from the till at work, but I thought I’d be able to pay it right back.
Stupid!
Damn stupid!
Can’t stop it now.
Charlene doesn’t even know, doesn’t even care. I thought I could make her happy, but it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. She just doesn’t give a damn no more, so why should I?
Why do I always see what I shoulda done after I done something else?
Damn!
Shouldn’ta done that!
Why did I think I could get out of it that easy? Always take the easy way is what Ma used to rant about, and I guess she was right. Can’t face up to things like a man. Always putting me down like she was sorry she ever had me. Never good enough for her. Always doing the wrong thing, she said. Never thinking things through, she said.
Now I’m scared.
Guess she was right.
Shoulda thought this through.
Shouldn’ta pulled this trig…

© 2000 Howard Tuckey

Teekay:

I was a complete goof at nine years old. I didn't meet my husband until I was 26. I'm glad that you liked it.

I just wanted to show that the person whom you want to like could also be wrong too. We don't see enough of that in movies and shows. The one you are supposed to like is always perfect.

Debra

Hi All,

LITTER: That was really funny. And deep too.

ROSEMARY: A happy ending -thankgoodness. I was afraid the hawk had gotten Beaky.

DEBRA: I liked your story, though I do think it sad at the end that she became so jaded, that she was wiser is good, but she would have been even wiser if she had been aware that it was her own actions that got her into the scrape in the first place. I thought that she may have been you and Stephen ended up being your husband.
I think I should stop trying to anticipate where a story is going. Unless it's my own - of course.

MARY: Cute doggie. You sure didn't waste any time with the photos.

Well my gorgeous, adorable toddler has decided to take a nap today ( a very unusual occurance) so I'm going to do something lovely and relaxing. I've got stacks of books to read and I've been meaning to finish that ghostie, HALLEE I really wish I had some of your undisciplined writing habits.
After I've started writing I'm fine. It's the starting I find difficult.

Rosemary:

Thanks for saying that. I'm not sure what part of the country you live in. I live in the northeast. I can tell you that me and everyone I know has been at the bus stop dressed inappropriately at one time or another. It's not our mothers. It's that we wanted to look normal.

Debra

LITTER: HAHAHAHAHA *snort*

For some reason, that really struck me as funny.

HAHAHAHAHA

Don't know why.

Hallee

You will all have noticed how many Blues songs begin with "Well, I woke up this morning…"

So, with this in mind here is my shorter than short shorty, which is a song rather than a story:

Dead-Man Blues

Well, I didn't wake up this morning.

Thank you! Thank you very much…

Happy Short-Shorty night,

MARY,
Duke is great. Those kind of dogs have the most expressive faces. Their foreheads wrinkle up with worry and confusion, and their big brown eyes radiate love.

DEBRA,
your story was interesting but my main reaction was that some parents should be shot for sending their kids out in 15 degree weather without bundling them up. It almost sounded like Alice didn't even have a coat on. Sounds illegal to me.

Here is my conclusion to the Beaky saga:

BEAKY (Part 2 of 2)

The feeding and watering was finally finished and my back was killing me. I had to lean over at that bad angle to turn the water off and unscrew the hose. I gritted my teeth against the pain and cursed the reluctant hose. Because of the background noise of constantly complaining geese, I didn't notice the barnyard had become deserted except for one small black and white spotted hen we call Dotty. She was reaching for a last crumb when I heard the sound of the wind rushing through feathers.

I whirled around in time to see a red-tailed hawk swooping down towards Dotty. A yell broke from my throat as I waved my arms. From the corner of my eye I could see Dotty jump like she was shot from a gun and speed to the fence. It was only a short few feet for her to run, but I felt like it was taking forever.

The hawk had to swerve at the last moment to keep from hitting the fence, and I couldn't get turned around in time to see everything, but I would have sworn there was a bunch of black and white feathers in his talons.

My heart was racing with excitement and fear for Dotty as I hurried to the last place I had seen my favorite little hen. She regularly laid tiny eggs in a nest in the barn that were perfect for pickling, and she had always been polite and forgiving if she happened to be on the nest when I came to gather them.

I knew the hawk had not taken her, but it must have hit her. I dreaded finding a broken little black and white spotted body that would have to be buried next to a hungry shrub. At the fence, I looked behind bushes and around flower pots. I was scratching my head wondering where the body could have landed when my sister came out to see what I was doing.

"I can't find Dotty." I waved my hands indicating the general area of the fence line. "A hawk hit her and I don't want to leave the body laying around."

"I'll check inside the fence. Maybe she made it through," said my sister, always the optimist.

As we continued searching, the geese finally settled down and went around to the other side of the house. I heard my sister laugh and call to me. "Look over here."

There was Beaky, scratching in the leaves and offering a juicy morsel to his new mate. Dotty must have made it through the fence with the loss of only a couple of feathers. END

Sorry it was so long, I'll try to do better next time.

Rosemary

Oops,

I have just shot my spell-checker -- the phrase that didn't make sense should've read:

"Celtic languages are making a strong revival"

Hi all,

Only 362 days until Christmas…

I feel a bit like a reptile just now -- the long, dark and cold nights make me feel sluggish and I just tend to sleep a lot and not do too much of anything else.

Welcome to those who are new or newish.

VIV, Hi! -- I find phonetics for Gaelic particularly difficult, but here we go. Slàinte Mhòr should be pronounced something like Slan-jhi Vah with the jhi half way between ji as in Jill and chi as in chick, with the "i" fading as if an afterthought. That’s about the best I can do :o)

MARK, I don't agree with you that Celtic culture is dead. Some aspect of it have been lost, certainly, and much of the modernised culture is fairly new, but there is a great resurgence in cultural awareness and reclaiming lost aspects of our culture. Celtic language are making a stron revival with road signs in parts of Ireland, Wales and the Scottish Highlands and Islands in both English and Gaelic. Put the word Celtic in a search engine and see how many hits you get. The downside of the interest, however, is that outsiders tend to go for overly romanticised cultural indicators and there is a lot of crap out there as well. Persist and I shall have to hunt you down with my Claymore, Dirk, or Sgian Dubh, depending on whether you would rather be "unseamed from the nave to the chaps", gutted or merely stabbed…

HEATHER -- my thoughts are with you. My favourite uncle died just after Christmas and only a few short months after his wife of 60 years passed through the veil. He had cancer but we all reckon that he went far quicker than he should have because he was totally lost without my Aunt. The same thing happened with my Grandparents some time back, so I know how difficult it is for you.

JERRY -- good thoughts winging their way over the Atlantic to you.

MARY -- your website worked for me. I left a message.

Had to reformat my laptops hard drive and reload everything from scratch over the past few days, so I've only managed to glance over the latest notebook entries. If I have missed anything critical, my apologies to those concerned.

Slàinte Mhòr

Litter

Today's pic: Sheena cleaning her room - a collector's item.

Mary - I visited your page and signed your guestbook. Your kids are adorable and Duke is so CUTE!! :)
*smiles*
Allein

Thanks Hallee:

You never know. I feel like I have a great story between Clayton and Alice.

Thanks

Debra

Heather:

I know you are right. But what does a nine year old really know. If I had said she blamed herself it wouldn't have come off as honest. A nine year old girl would end up trusting less and blame the boy.

I think she would feel in her heart of hearts that she was tricked and feel less trusting and wiser.

Oh yeah - forgot:

MARY: Extremely cute dog. I love "Duke", too.

HOWARD: I left a note for you in Themestream.

Okay - seriously this time (I promise boss man!) back to work.

DEBRA: That story seems like the prologue of a romance novel between Clayton and Alice...I loved it.

TEEKAY: Sadly, I've been late to work every day this week. I have got to get some discipline with my writing. This morning it was writing a short story for a contest. (I finished it though!) I had to get off my book for a while - I was nearing burn out. hahaha (sigh)

TINA: Your dish reminds me of berjol (probably mis-spelled) - thinly sliced beef with garlic, parsley, and pine nuts rolled up in it - then you tie it with a string, sautee it in some olive oil, and cook it for several hours in crushed tomatoes seasoned with Italian spices. ..very good dish.

CHRISTI: Good to see you...how are you feeling? Maybe one day I'll post a picture (grin).

TINA & RHODA: Sometime today I'll write the "short build up" (whatever that means - I'll come up with something) for the love scene contest I want to enter. Tina - you've already read the love scene, (unless, of course, I submit the one I just finished writing - it was very good and I'm now in the middle of a debate with myself) so you can tell me if the build up makes any sense at all.

Any hoot...time to get back to work.

Happy Thursday Everyone,
Hallee

Debra - I realize that she INTERPRETED it to be a dare, but the boy didn't actually say he dared her. She was gullible.

Heather

Heather:

Alice is only nine years old. She felt that the older boy knew she would not believe him so he presented it as a dare.

She felt set up and she wouldn't trust him as a person whom set her up.

Debra

Sorry to be using you guys as guinea pigs, but I got tired of links to photo hosts not working, so I made my own stinking page. This is the link, but unfortunately....I dont know if it works yet or not.

Debra - why would Alice not trust so much after the experience? Stephen was the one who said that it WOULD stick. She was the one who didn't believe him. In the exposition opening the story, Alice also 'knows' that all the boys tease her