Tomorrow is Halloween. I saw this in my local CVS today.
That's not the Great Pumpkin, is it?
Just checking.
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Funny Foto #75
by Michael Seese
Tomorrow is Halloween. I saw this in my local CVS today.
That's not the Great Pumpkin, is it?
Just checking.
Tomorrow is Halloween. I saw this in my local CVS today.
That's not the Great Pumpkin, is it?
Just checking.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Flash: Payback
by Michael Seese
Now that we're a few weeks removed from Flash! Friday's swansong, I decided to try my hand once again at Indies Unlimited.
We were given this photo prompt
(courtesy of K. S. Brooks; the folks at Indies ask us to attribute), and asked to incorporate the ideas of this text prompt.
Every year, Mabel set out milk and cookies for Santa. Every year, she threw them away the next morning. This year, the milk was still there but the cookies were gone. Her refrigerator door was open, and what was left of her Christmas ham was out on the counter...
My initial pass was 375 words; the limit is 250. So out came the red pen. I do like the longer version more. But I'm sharing the shorter one below, though I did decide to add back three sentences, the ones about the bucket of water.
So here is the not-so-jolly “Payback”
“H- H-”
Weak and worn down, his throat could not muster the strength to push the words past his desiccated lips. His last meal -- a morsel, a trifle -- now was a distant memory.
The door at the top of the stairs opened, casting a pittance of light upon his swollen face. A cold splash blanketed him seconds before the clang of the bucket assaulted his ears. He couldn't care. He lustily lapped the liquid from the floor.
“Finally awake, eh fat man? You just couldn't resist the trap, could you?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I thought you had all the answers, Nick.”
"It's about the horse, isn't it?"
The shadowy figure, now halfway down the steps, said nothing. That had to be it. The details were coming back. The notes. The pleas whispered in his ear.
“I'm right? Aren't I?”
"Of course it's about the horse!" she screamed. "It's the only thing I ever really wanted. Year after year I asked you for a horse And what did you give me? Barbie dolls. Coloring books. Underwear."
"Your mother and father didn't want you to have one." Nick said softly. "You forget. I know what everyone wants. That includes parents. They simply couldn't give you a horse."
"They call it an evergreen tree because it ‘survives’ the winter. But once you cut it down, it's dead. Even if the tree thinks it's still alive,” she said over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs.
"So that's your plan, Mabel? To keep me here until I'm dead."
Mabel stopped, and turned.
"It's December 27th, Santa. Christmas is over. You missed it. You're already dead. To them."
I welcome all comments. And if you like it, PLEASE stop by here to vote, up until 5:00 PM Thursday.
Now that we're a few weeks removed from Flash! Friday's swansong, I decided to try my hand once again at Indies Unlimited.
We were given this photo prompt
(courtesy of K. S. Brooks; the folks at Indies ask us to attribute), and asked to incorporate the ideas of this text prompt.
Every year, Mabel set out milk and cookies for Santa. Every year, she threw them away the next morning. This year, the milk was still there but the cookies were gone. Her refrigerator door was open, and what was left of her Christmas ham was out on the counter...
My initial pass was 375 words; the limit is 250. So out came the red pen. I do like the longer version more. But I'm sharing the shorter one below, though I did decide to add back three sentences, the ones about the bucket of water.
So here is the not-so-jolly “Payback”
“H- H-”
Weak and worn down, his throat could not muster the strength to push the words past his desiccated lips. His last meal -- a morsel, a trifle -- now was a distant memory.
The door at the top of the stairs opened, casting a pittance of light upon his swollen face. A cold splash blanketed him seconds before the clang of the bucket assaulted his ears. He couldn't care. He lustily lapped the liquid from the floor.
“Finally awake, eh fat man? You just couldn't resist the trap, could you?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I thought you had all the answers, Nick.”
"It's about the horse, isn't it?"
The shadowy figure, now halfway down the steps, said nothing. That had to be it. The details were coming back. The notes. The pleas whispered in his ear.
“I'm right? Aren't I?”
"Of course it's about the horse!" she screamed. "It's the only thing I ever really wanted. Year after year I asked you for a horse And what did you give me? Barbie dolls. Coloring books. Underwear."
"Your mother and father didn't want you to have one." Nick said softly. "You forget. I know what everyone wants. That includes parents. They simply couldn't give you a horse."
"They call it an evergreen tree because it ‘survives’ the winter. But once you cut it down, it's dead. Even if the tree thinks it's still alive,” she said over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs.
"So that's your plan, Mabel? To keep me here until I'm dead."
Mabel stopped, and turned.
"It's December 27th, Santa. Christmas is over. You missed it. You're already dead. To them."
I welcome all comments. And if you like it, PLEASE stop by here to vote, up until 5:00 PM Thursday.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Flash x3
by Michael Seese
Man, I was a profligate writer today.
Wait... That's not right!
Frequent Flash! Friday contributor Tamara Shoemaker often posts two stories. Well, last week, she took third runner up honors (though I got second) AND the top prize.
And I saw a challenge.
Here is the photo prompt for this week.
I had thought about it in advance, and figured there would be a Christmas theme. I wanted to write something in the gothic horror vein... something that just dripped with dread all the way through. Then I would follow up with a comedic piece. But when I came up with the opening line for "Regifting," I wanted to work with that, even though it wasn't horror. (Though, neither is it anywhere near merry.)
So here is "Regifting."
My Mom was a cop. The good kind. The kind who actually helped folks. One Christmas Eve she tried to stop some loser from stealing another family’s joy. He put one in her chest.
I stayed with my Grandma. But she had her hands full with her boozing husband. So they put me in foster care.
The Christmas season always makes me a little crazy. The state psychiatrist would say I needed to find a way to release my anger.
It’s a good thing the malls don’t conduct background checks.
As a little freckled cherub settled into my lap, her mother beaming and flashing away, I smiled, thinking about the .45 in my boot. I wanted to say, “This is reality, kid. There ain’t no Santa Claus. Just creeps, like the one who offed my Mom. And me.”
But actions scream louder than words.
Then I wrote "Elfnip."
“Sssh! Someone will hear us!”
“I can’t help it. This stuff makes me giggle.”
It’s true. Elfnip is a powerful agent. Especially when mixed with eggnog and huffed, as these two diminutive delinquents were doing.
“I can’t wait for this night to be over. I need a break.”
“You? You never work. You keep snowing the foreman with that ‘I want to be a dentist’ crap.”
“Shut up.”
“And if that doesn’t work, you throw the insanity card. The Abominable Snowmensch. What a load of—”
“Shut it!”
“You’re just ticked because your name sounds like an STD.”
“Would you stuff it! Someone’s coming!”
“Damn! We’ve got to get rid of the stuff.”
“Just stash it somewhere.”
“Where?”
“In the sleigh.”
“But what if it’s him? We can’t let him enter U.S. airspace with it in his possession.”
“Relax. It’s only a controlled substance in about half the states.”
And that is why the North Pole is now automated.
But about halfway through -- literally as I'm writing down Elfnip ideas -- I came up with "The Watchman."
Tick tock tick tock.
I see you sleeping. And I see you awake.
Draw up your sheets, pull tight your cap,
Complain not about a lump of coal.
Am I Santa? God? No, someone else.
Whew! I need a break. Maybe I'll wrap some presents. How about you guys?
Man, I was a profligate writer today.
Wait... That's not right!
Frequent Flash! Friday contributor Tamara Shoemaker often posts two stories. Well, last week, she took third runner up honors (though I got second) AND the top prize.
And I saw a challenge.
Here is the photo prompt for this week.
I had thought about it in advance, and figured there would be a Christmas theme. I wanted to write something in the gothic horror vein... something that just dripped with dread all the way through. Then I would follow up with a comedic piece. But when I came up with the opening line for "Regifting," I wanted to work with that, even though it wasn't horror. (Though, neither is it anywhere near merry.)
So here is "Regifting."
No kid expects a dead parent for
Christmas. But that’s exactly what I got one year.
My Mom was a cop. The good kind. The kind who actually helped folks. One Christmas Eve she tried to stop some loser from stealing another family’s joy. He put one in her chest.
I stayed with my Grandma. But she had her hands full with her boozing husband. So they put me in foster care.
The Christmas season always makes me a little crazy. The state psychiatrist would say I needed to find a way to release my anger.
It’s a good thing the malls don’t conduct background checks.
As a little freckled cherub settled into my lap, her mother beaming and flashing away, I smiled, thinking about the .45 in my boot. I wanted to say, “This is reality, kid. There ain’t no Santa Claus. Just creeps, like the one who offed my Mom. And me.”
But actions scream louder than words.
Then I wrote "Elfnip."
“Sssh! Someone will hear us!”
“I can’t help it. This stuff makes me giggle.”
It’s true. Elfnip is a powerful agent. Especially when mixed with eggnog and huffed, as these two diminutive delinquents were doing.
“I can’t wait for this night to be over. I need a break.”
“You? You never work. You keep snowing the foreman with that ‘I want to be a dentist’ crap.”
“Shut up.”
“And if that doesn’t work, you throw the insanity card. The Abominable Snowmensch. What a load of—”
“Shut it!”
“You’re just ticked because your name sounds like an STD.”
“Would you stuff it! Someone’s coming!”
“Damn! We’ve got to get rid of the stuff.”
“Just stash it somewhere.”
“Where?”
“In the sleigh.”
“But what if it’s him? We can’t let him enter U.S. airspace with it in his possession.”
“Relax. It’s only a controlled substance in about half the states.”
And that is why the North Pole is now automated.
But about halfway through -- literally as I'm writing down Elfnip ideas -- I came up with "The Watchman."
Tick tock tick tock.
Just try to ignore it. The Watchman’s
clock.
Red midnight looms, it’s almost time.
You’d best be silent by the 12th
chime.
I see you sleeping. And I see you awake.
He gives and
gives. I take take TAKE!
Visions of sugarplums, and flying
reindeer.
Take care, my pretties. Be still. I’m
right here!
Draw up your sheets, pull tight your cap,
Prepare for an eternal winter’s nap.
A barren tree. A rancid goose.
No silent night with me on the loose.
Complain not about a lump of coal.
It’s nothing next to losing your
soul.
I crave your sugar. I crave your spice,
so naughty, naughty, naughty, nice.
Am I Santa? God? No, someone else.
Beware The Watchman on the shelf.
Wake up, my pretties, you’ve won
reprieve.
I’ll see you all next Christmas Eve.
Whew! I need a break. Maybe I'll wrap some presents. How about you guys?
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Castle: "Secret Santa"
By Michael Seese
Only three weeks late. But just in time for the holidays...
Ho ho ho! The folks behind Castle decided to give us a bit of holiday cheer with the episode "Secret Santa." If you can get past the dead Santa at the beginning, that is.
This was a "standard" Castle: seemingly implausible murder (victim falls from the sky, with no commercial flights having passed over; a chip of red paint in his possession), multiple suspects (David Dunne, Tim Cabot, Michael Case), and then a quick resolution.
I thought they nicely mixed the murder mystery with the holiday good cheer: Castle's family surprising him by canceling their Christmas Even plans; Beckett's surprising Castle by switching shifts; Esposito surprising Ryan with his support; Esposito surprising the Cabots with the heirloom clock; and the overall redemption of Edmund Smith.
Santa lines dominated.
Beckett: "I hate to break it to you, Castle, but there is no Santa Claus."
Castle: "Well, not any more."
Captain Gates: "Lord I hate the holidays." (As my wife noted, that scene let Gates be uncharacteristically open about her personal life.)
Castle: "Yet another quality she has in common with the Grinch."
Ryan: "What does this mean for the future?"
Esposito: "It means one less guy dressed up as Santa."
Castle: "...and then launched into space?"
Beckett: "And how is that less plausible than your sleigh?"
Castle: "I think you mean less clausible." (His smirk probably was my favorite "look.")
A few other noteworthy points:
- I liked the scene where Espo went to visit Lanie, and that she was receptive to getting together in the future...just not Christmas Eve.
- Much like the rock-and-roll-tinged theme at the first commercial break of "Swan Song," "Secret Santa" had jingle-bell-like song, with a candy cane replacing the pen.
- The arrest of Dunne was great. He fought Esposito with a giant candy cane, and then fled to the tune of "Run, Run Rudolph."
"And to all, a good night..." I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas.
If you still remember the episode, feel free to share your thoughts. Otherwise, until January 7...
Only three weeks late. But just in time for the holidays...
Ho ho ho! The folks behind Castle decided to give us a bit of holiday cheer with the episode "Secret Santa." If you can get past the dead Santa at the beginning, that is.
This was a "standard" Castle: seemingly implausible murder (victim falls from the sky, with no commercial flights having passed over; a chip of red paint in his possession), multiple suspects (David Dunne, Tim Cabot, Michael Case), and then a quick resolution.
I thought they nicely mixed the murder mystery with the holiday good cheer: Castle's family surprising him by canceling their Christmas Even plans; Beckett's surprising Castle by switching shifts; Esposito surprising Ryan with his support; Esposito surprising the Cabots with the heirloom clock; and the overall redemption of Edmund Smith.Santa lines dominated.
Beckett: "I hate to break it to you, Castle, but there is no Santa Claus."
Castle: "Well, not any more."
Captain Gates: "Lord I hate the holidays." (As my wife noted, that scene let Gates be uncharacteristically open about her personal life.)
Castle: "Yet another quality she has in common with the Grinch."
Ryan: "What does this mean for the future?"
Esposito: "It means one less guy dressed up as Santa."
Castle: "...and then launched into space?"
Beckett: "And how is that less plausible than your sleigh?"
Castle: "I think you mean less clausible." (His smirk probably was my favorite "look.")
A few other noteworthy points:
- I liked the scene where Espo went to visit Lanie, and that she was receptive to getting together in the future...just not Christmas Eve.
- Much like the rock-and-roll-tinged theme at the first commercial break of "Swan Song," "Secret Santa" had jingle-bell-like song, with a candy cane replacing the pen.
- The arrest of Dunne was great. He fought Esposito with a giant candy cane, and then fled to the tune of "Run, Run Rudolph."
"And to all, a good night..." I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas.
If you still remember the episode, feel free to share your thoughts. Otherwise, until January 7...
The Aftermath!
I wish I had thought to snap a "before." But you all probably know what a Christmas tree with intact presents looks like.
Merry Christmas to all...
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Random Thoughts...
By Michael Seese
The other day my wife successfully used Coca Cola to remove the burn marks from the bottom of a pan. If it can remove scorched on carbon, imagine what it does to your stomach.
Not that I want to hear "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer" anymore. But why is every song remotely connected to winter a Christmas song? "Walking In A Winter Wonderland," "Sleigh Ride," and even "Jingle Bells" have nothing to do with Christmas. In fact, looking out the window right now, I can see snow. So those songs are timely. But they've been banished from the airwaves until Thanksgiving, or maybe Halloween.
Why is a 4 x 8 sheet of plywood...well...4 feet by 8 feet, but a 2 x 4 is 1.5 inches by 3.5 inches?
Let me state up front that I think DWI (driving while intexticated) is idiotic. But...many municipalities have banned talking on a cell phone while driving. So why haven't they banned talking to someone in the car?
This anecdote represents a new level of politically correct idiocy. I've been ranting about this one all over the place. A Utah high school can't name its team the "Cougars" (the choice of the students, by popular vote) because of that word's connection to middle-aged women. I guess horny old women are now a protected legal entity.
This anecdote represents a new level of politically correct idiocy. I've been ranting about this one all over the place. A Utah high school can't name its team the "Cougars" (the choice of the students, by popular vote) because of that word's connection to middle-aged women. I guess horny old women are now a protected legal entity.
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