Funny, You Say?

I know what you're thinking. This is the second blog hop I've done this week. Not what you were thinking? Oh well. I'm about to get to the funny stuff. Or so you hope.

So, Cassie Mae over at Reading, Writing, and Lovin' it! is hosting her first ever blog hop and it's pretty much as far up my alley as you can go. Not only does it have an embarrassed polar bear as the picture, but flushing is something I do quite well. Take that as you will.

Now, there is a prize involved for those who participate. A $10 Amazon gift card! (Go click over to her page to find out more about that!) You don't think I'd write embarrassing stories about myself just for the heck of it, do you? Oh, you do? Well, you may have something there.

Here's how it will go:

Write a short story about an embarrassing experience one of your characters went through, or if your characters are so perfect that they never do anything embarrassing (lucky them), tell us something from your own life that left you blushing like a little boy threatened with cooties on the playground. 

Now, I'm not in the habit of writing about my characters' misdeeds, so I think I may just regale you folks with a story from the vault of my childhood. Goodness knows I have plenty of embarrassing memories.

Let's go back in time...

"You can't have popcorn for lunch," she said firmly.  

"But--but--but I want popcorn! I don't want a hotdog!" the little girl cried and pressed herself further into the rocking Lazy-Boy. She thought that if she pressed hard enough, maybe the chair would swallow her up. That would teach her mother for not letting her eat popcorn for lunch.  

"Stop whining and come eat your lunch," her mom repeated. "Bailey, look at me. You can't just eat popcorn for lunch. I'm going to tell Dad when he gets home..." 

That announcement only made the blond girl even more upset. She knew her dad would spank her if she kept disobeying her mom. But she couldn't stop. Not now. Too much was at stake. She wanted that popcorn. 

"NOOOO!" Bailey shrieked. "Don't tell Daddy!"  

"Bailey...look at me," her mom said in reply.  

Bailey didn't look up, but continued to cry shakily into the Lazy-Boy's green exterior. It wasn't fair. It's not like she was asking to have candy for lunch.  

"Bailey...Bailey....look at the camera." 

Oh no. She wouldn't...and yet, Bailey looked up almost against her own will. Her mom was videoing her.  

"Moooooom! Don't video me!" Bailey started sobbing once more, and wished again that the chair would swallow her whole, like the whale did Jonah. "Mom...mom...it's not fair..." 

The scene fades into gray and white static and then switches to another home video, but someone hits pause. On the watching side of the television screen, people of all ages are laughing at my younger self. I'm one of them, but it still stings. My Dad is wiping tears of laughter from his face and my siblings are probably dying. I can't tell if their spasms and red faces are something I should be worried about or not. But hey, what's family for except to laugh at you and teach you to laugh at yourself? Even when you don't think it's that funny. 

Yes. That's an actual event. Every time I acted like a complete brat when I was growing up, my Mom and Dad would whip out this VHS and play it or threaten to play it. I'd stop doing whatever I was doing and change my tune. I'm embarrassed just thinking about how red my face was in that video. I had some major lungs on me too at age six.

Alrighty, that's enough me time. Now, let's get to hopping!

Holiday Blog Hop Story Share

So, Jenny over at Jenny's Imaginary World and Megan at This Post Will Self Destruct are hosting a Holiday Blog Hop, and in order to participate, one must write a holiday themed story in 250 words or less (or more). I'm a new follower of both of their blogs and I hope to meet more awesome bloggers through this hop. 

I had no idea what to write about, so I went for the obvious holidays just around the corner. For some reason, I couldn't write a happy story today. Oh well. Actually, it's a little happy with some sad mixed in. Here's my story!

“It’s always the same,” Khaela muttered as she caught sight of the employees at the store hanging tinsel and wreaths at the end of each aisle. “They always skip Thanksgiving and go straight to Christmas.”

“What’s so great about Christmas?” she asked herself as she loaded her buggy with cranberry sauce and pie shells. “It’s too long and too commercial.”

Khaela paused and closed her eyes, trying to fight a sudden temptation to run screaming from the store. Christmas held too many bad memories, but Thanksgiving, now that holiday was perfect. No gift buying; no extended, family visits. Just one day and then it’s over. Peaceful.

“Brian’s bringing the turkey and Ann’s making the dressing,” Khaela commented. “So all that’s left is the pie filling—“

“Try the cherry,” a voice interrupted.

Khaela turned around slowly and found herself looking down at a little boy of about six years of age. He had bright blue eyes and elfin features, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Pardon?” Khaela asked, unsure if he had been speaking to her.

“Try the cherry pie filling,” the boy stated. “It tastes like Christmas and happiness. My mommy used to make me a cherry pie every Christmas before she left. Cherries make me happy and you look like you need more happy.”

Khaela didn’t have a response; she merely stared at him as he smiled like he’d done her a huge favor with the suggestion. Then, he walked away.

“Cherries,” she repeated slowly. “Happiness.” 

Happy Holidays!

My Writing Muscles

Image by Dunechaser via FlickrIt feels like it's been forever, but I wrote a short story today and my writing muscles are sore. I've been so out of practice that I had to sit for a few minutes and stare at my computer screen before the ideas would come.

I joke sometimes that I don't know where my inspirations come from, and often I'm right about that. But when inspiration does strike me, it hits me hard and knocks me backwards with its intensity.

One story that I started as kind of a random writing project to distract me from my more serious projects is called The Wild Ones. It's part dysptopian, part naturalism. I like to think that I've captured a little bit of Jack London in what I'm writing. Call of the Wild is one of my favorite books and his short story "To Build a Fire" gave me chills the first time I read it.

I want to be able to impart some of that bleakness and utter ruthlessness of nature to what The Wild Ones embodies. I struggled with maintaining my own voice and yet still exploring the twisted nature of humanity versus extinction. I'm not what one might call a "dark" person. I'm more rainbows and bluebirds than fog and crows.

But...somehow I can't get this story idea out of my head. I figure that I'll just have to write it out of there.

It's frightened me a few times to see what I've come up with. I think that may be a good thing, it means I'm writing something stronger than my own rationality. If I can out-write my own logic, I think I'm on the right track to really capturing something good.

Whatever the case, I set out to answer the siren call of the Wild and I wrote an introductory short story to The Wild Ones. The main character is a man who witnesses the end of the world as we know it. He's one of the first to return to the Wild.

In a way, he's Adam after the exodus from Eden, except I didn't give him an Eve. He's going to have to find her on his own. Or perhaps I'll go back in and write her in.

I haven't decided yet. I like the way the story ended, though, but I'm liable to change my mind. It happens more often than I would like.

Until next time...stretch those writing muscles!