NaNoWriMo.

I had a lot of stories I wanted to post this week, but for once I wasn’t able to because of procrastination: I’ve been legitimately too busy to. And now NaNoWriMo is upon me, so my posting – at least for the month of November – will be sporadic at best.

Who knows – I may have time to post a story or two, but I’d really rather concentrate on the contest in my continuing quest to FOLLOW THROUGH. (I should really make those words a tag). EDIT – I just did!

Good luck to all those who enter. And I mean that genuinely, because to me, this contest is more about accomplishing a goal rather than winning. Because the best prize of all is blah blah blah.

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Stories From Yesteryear: Who Put The Fun in Funeral?

Another old story, this time from my final year of university. The assignment was to make a sombre situation – such as a funeral – funny. Ironically, when I wrote this, I had been crying quite a bit thanks to having had a bad day, but by the time I’d finished I was laughing. Yes, at my own jokes. But once again, it was proof that comedic writing, (at least in my opinion) was my forte. I just didn’t realize it at the time. But my teacher at the time, Shyam Selvdurai, did: I got an A+!

And I am totally NOT stalling working on new stuff by posting yet another old story. Which by the way, introduces yet another segment, as you can see in the title: Stories From Yesteryear, which is pretty self-explanatory.

***

Grandma died watching “Paternity Tests Part 2: Are You My Baby’s Daddy?” on The Maury Povich Show. She was wearing her Save Water, Drink Beer T-shirt underneath a maroon cigarette burn studded bathrobe, gray socks (actually, they were supposed to be white but they looked grey) and an L.A. Kings baseball cap. She was a quarter of the way into a bottle of raspberry Pucker and had a wrestling magazine on her lap.

“Bombaclot!” was her last word, according to Aunt Bonita, her caretaker, who at the time was in the kitchen slicing tomatoes for dinner that evening. Bonita assumed that she was yelling at the television – because Gammy does this often – and chuckled to herself. But when Bonita did not hear the frequent emissions of gas coming from the living room, she knew something was wrong, and ran in there.

Actually, she slipped on the hardwood floor that she’d just polished with lemon Pledge, and caught her hip on the hallway table, activating one of its musical figurines. So before Bonita discovered the 300-pound corpse that was Gammy, she lay on the floor, holding her side and writhing to the tune of “Love is a Many Splendored Thing.”

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55 Word Short Stories: Permanent Stress

“Wait – you use needles?!” I gasp.

The artist gives me an incredulous look.

I smile. “Just joking.”

We laugh in unison.

An hour later, the artist says, “All done, Jane!”

“Jane?!” I yell. “My name’s Janice!”

The artist stops laughing when I don’t join in. “You’re joking again, right?”

“NO!”

“Oops.”


Stories From Yesteryear: Adventures of a Scheming Teenage Snob – My Perfect Prom Date.

[Remember, I was 17 when I wrote this. I got an A++ on it, btw!]

Seventeen-year old Taylor Lane was sitting outside her white sandstone mansion on a chaise lounge by the Olympic-sized pool. Flicking a lock of silky black hair from her perfectly featured face, she felt the California sun beating warmly on her. [Where exactly in California, genius? Way to be specific!]

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Tip Off The Block: The Color Purple.

Ok, so I’m skipping ahead a bit in The Writer’s Block, (actually, quite a few pages ahead) but only because I want an excuse to post this hi-larious story I wrote when I was 17. Also, I can make it look like I’ve posted a new story, when in fact I only copied and pasted an old one, which gives me more time to procrastinate on writing a new one.

If you understood that, just pretend you didn’t read it.

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Just Call Me Charlie Brown.

Last week I bought a Charlie Brown mug to bring to work. Nothing unusual about that of course, except I already have two mugs currently taking residence in my desk. Not to mention that I already have about a million mugs in my kitchen cabinet. (It’s safe to say that I have tea, not blood, running through my veins.) So this was definitely not a purchase of necessity, though I think about 5% of the purchases I make actually ARE of necessity.

But I think it goes without saying that I bought this mug because I love Charlie Brown; I have since I was a kid. I didn’t just read the comics in the newspaper; I used to read the comic books – took out stacks and stacks of ’em from the library. Why? Because I related to Charlie Brown. I was (and in some ways, still am) Charlie Brown. Socially awkward; didn’t fit in anywhere; had good intentions but always managed to screw up; let shyness, insecurity and self-doubt get the best of me…and of, course, always fell for it when that bitch Lucy promised not to pull away the football.

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55 Word Short Stories: Mommie Dearest

Neither of them hear the door open until it’s too late.

“Mom – I’m home early!”

The exclamation makes them jump apart. Naked under the spray of water, they stare at each other in horror.

“Shit!” the woman hisses. “Rachel is gonna kill me!”

“Kill you?” the man retorts. “I’m the one who’s marrying her!”