Your three words, my little story Rosita’s words-oil, water & feelings

Fridays have been Rose’s favorite day for years, not necessarily the mornings, because of work. She enjoyed her work, but she liked fishing on the weekends with her daughters, Lilly and Daisy, more. Her weekend began as soon as she got off work on Friday and ended early Monday morning, when they returned home. On Thursday nights they packed their bags, groceries and camping gear into the SUV, thus making their Friday morning ritual the same as any other week day morning. After work though, she picked up the girls from school and immediately took the hour long trip to the WATER. Lilly longed for the view of the distant tree line as they left the city, because she knew she would soon be fishing.

 

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A store called, ‘Paul’s Fishery’, sat on the edge of the dense forest, which was half way to their favorite camp site. Paul sold bait and tackle in the convenient store on the left side of his building and had a butcher, seafood and deli counter on the right. Two hundred feet through the back door and past one of his open air dining areas was his fishery, where he raised and sold Minos, clams and shrimp, to name a few. Past that was his stable, where he had horses, goats, chickens and other livestock.

 

Rose stopped by the fishery every Friday evening at 6 pm like clockwork, because she had a standing dinner reservation under a backyard canopy with Paul. While they ate and flirted, the kids munched on candy and chips at the stable with the animals. Over the years they grew to have certain FEELINGS for each other, but were careful to keep them under wraps because of her children. Every weekend he offered her a job and she always politely declined with a smile, hug and kiss on the cheek.

 

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They left Paul’s and headed deep into the woods to their secret spot near the creek. Once there, the first thing Rose and Lilly did was cast a few lines to see what the fish were biting on. Daisy loved bug hunting, so she gathered wood for the fire while rummaging for caterpillars, worms and other free bait. After twenty minutes they set up camp, placed the poles for the overnight fishing and prepared for nightfall. Lilly always started the fire and stayed up most of the night reading and fishing by the firelight, while Rose and Daisy soon fell asleep listening to nature’s music by the water’s edge.

 

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They’ve been coming here for years, and the kids didn’t realize it, but when their dad died, Rose needed to supplement her finances, so she learned to catch, clean and sale fish. This was fun quality time with the girls and helped with bills too. Monday came too soon and as they were packing up, Rose noticed and a puddle of OIL under her SUV. She knew nothing about cars, so the fear that it might not be something simple, hit her quickly. Thoughts of: What if she needed another engine-or car? Where would that money come from? That would be a lot of fish or maybe she would need a second job. When she thought of a second job she thought of Paul, so she stopped at Paul’s on the way home for some oil and a hug.

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Your three words, my little story Lopez’s words, hero, doom & lunch

Your three words, my little story

Lopez’s words, hero, doom & lunch

 

Cathy’s day started much like any other day ̶serving breakfast at the Porter House with Justine cooking and Lucy complaining, as she normally does. This morning Cathy was the only waitress, for some unknown reason Jodi didn’t call for a ride. Even though this shift opens the dinner, they get off at noon, so they’re known as the LUNCH Crew. They wondered why Jodi didn’t call, so after lunch the crew went to her house to check on her.

 

Saturday’s on Beemer Street was known for its hustle and bustle, kids playing, grass being cut and neighbors talking across the fences. This overcast Saturday was different though, other than the lunch trio, the only other person in the neighborhood was the mail man. Jodi’s front door was locked, so Lucy went to the back door and found it broken down, not broken in, but it was laying on the kitchen floor. She didn’t dare go in, and on her way back to the front yard, she noticed windows broke at the neighbor’s house. It was way too eerie, houses broken into, lack of activity, and of course no Jodi. Lucy was quick to call the police and complain.

 

Shortly after one cop got there, several more arrived and taped off the whole street. After taking their statements, they were ushered off the site. Cathy went home and didn’t see Justin and Lucy till they picked her up later that evening. They felt a night out was in order and might wipe out some of the scenes from earlier in the day, so they headed to ‘Taylor’s’, for some music, pool and alcohol. However, the bar was desolate just like Beemer Street. The bartender and two other patrons were the only people there besides the lunch crew. It was a little too early to get drunk, but that’s what they wanted to do.

 

No one came in the bar till the sun went down, and that was a stranger who was seductively hypnotic, and was dressed to the nines, excluding the blood that saturated the front of his suit. Our little town of Beemerville had few strangers and when it did, gossip went around quickly, especially about a blood soaked visitor like him. He walked in the front door and two female strangers came through the back, they also had a very erotic attraction about them. Lucy was immediately mesmerized by spooky front door stranger-she wasn’t complaining at all, and that didn’t sit right with Justin. As the stranger walked to Lucy, Justin stepped between them. The stranger back handed Justin so hard he went flying through the front window and landed in the street. The other patrons didn’t stand a chance, they were quickly ravaged by the blood sucking couple that came in through the back. Shortly after Lucy went limp at the end of the vampire’s fangs, the bartender fired his shotgun at the male vampire and Cathy swiftly jumped through the broken window. Lucy fell to the floor and within seconds the bartender was drained of all life too.

 

Horrid screams filled the night air as Cathy grabbed Justin and ran to the nearest alley. As they cowered behind a dumpster for hours she convinced him that the strangers were vampires, they didn’t have the strength or bravery to move a muscle. As gloom and DOOM fell over the little town, Justin grabbed a broken beer bottle for defense, until Cathy handed him a broken piece of wood from a nearby pallet. He thought, “Duh what am I thinking, vampires?” Neither one of them have ever been in a fight before, especially against blood thirsty vampires, so the thought of ramming a stick into the heart of a moving body was beyond comprehension. At dawn it got suspiciously quiet. That’s when they remembered the sun and vampires don’t mix, so after the sun came up they slowly stepped out into the street. Both of them wished they had fought, but they realized that the sun was the HERO, now every day starts with a hero.

Your three words, my little story: Carols words are kangaroo, basement & lamp

Your three words, my little story: kangaroo, basement & lamp

 

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This BASEMENT reminded me of the one in Lanham, on Cordova Street. We lived there from 1960 to 1965, I was eleven when we moved from there to the farm in Hughesville.
My scariest memory of that basement was when my brother, George, and I were downstairs watching a scary movie. It was called, ‘It Came From Outer Space’. Mom called us, “It’s time to come upstairs.” The reason for calling us up, must not have been that important, because she allowed me to stay down and watch the rest of the show, while George left. It was dark outside, so it might have been close to our bed time.

By today’s standards it was not a very scary movie. But I was nine and when it was over, I was afraid to get off the couch and go upstairs. However, I eventually did.

While upstairs in the kitchen, dad noticed I didn’t turn off the basement light, he asked, “Did you forget something?”

I knew exactly what he was talking about, because I was too scared to turn it off, but what I said was, “What?”

“The basement light is still on. Turn it off.” We didn’t have a switch at the top of the stairs to turn any lights on or off. All we had were lambs. The only light on downstairs was a table LAMP, and it was all the way across the then freighting wide open space.

I can’t remember actually turning off the light and going back upstairs, but I do remember standing there with my thumb and forefinger on the knob. Afraid beyond belief, of the mad dash that laid ahead of me. In my mind, I had to negotiate a path from the lamb to the bottom step, in the dark. With tears in my eyes I called to dad, “Please dad! Please!” I don’t remember actually doing it, I just remember the fear.

That memory is fifty-five years old. This basement was wide open just like ours was, but it didn’t have a television, couch or chairs. The walls and tables were full of photos, art work, guns, mounted heads and statues.

It was an amazing room, but there was one item that was called into question. It was a stuffed KANGAROO and it had another stuffed kangaroo in it’s pouch. When Carol saw me pointing at it, she giggled and said, “Yeah, that looks out of place, doesn’t it?”

I said, “Sure does.”

“It belongs to my daughter, and she thinks it should hang around with the rest of the art…”

 

Your three words, my little story; Andrew, Jadis, Rick

Your three words, my little story; Andrew, Jadis, Rick

The last time I saw ANDREW, was a few years ago in Northern Virginia. He was my defense attorney, for a jewel heist trail. That case was nothing compared to this one.

 

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This time I was accused of murdering a DJ in Atlanta, Georgia. The victim’s name was Clay Moore. I met him years ago at a family reunion in Ellijay, Georgia. He was a terrible cook, but a good disk jockey. I told some people about his lack of culinary skills and he was killed shortly after that. I was dumbfounded, when I heard this. I didn’t think he deserved to be killed for making a terrible Sloppy Joe.

I was arrested with-in hours of his death, because of my, “…..terrible cook remark.”

I think it had something to do with the local Bar-B-Que Association. I heard through the grapevine, it was about battered meat.

I told him once, “You’re a great DJ and seem to be a nice guy.” But this information didn’t find it’s way to my defense council.

Wondering if Andrew could handle a case of this nature, I contacted Ben Matlock out of Atlanta. Ben told me, “Give me a day to look into your case. I’ll let you know, mid-day tomorrow.

Later that evening Andrew gave me more information about Clay’s death. He said, “Mr. Moore was struck in the head with a baseball bat several times, till he laid motionless in the street. We also found a witness, her name is JADIS and she’s coming to the Sherriff’s Office at 2 pm.”

 

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Stunned, I asked, “What did she witness?”

She said, “The killer was wearing a leather jacket over a white t-shirt.”

 

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Two-thirty that afternoon, I, along with four other men, stood in a line-up, wearing leather jackets. The police officer had each one of us step forward, turn to the left, to the right, then step back in line. Andrew told me later, “She choose number five.” I was number two.

Since all of the evidence against me was strictly circumstantial, they had no choice but to release me. I asked Andrew, “What’s up with number five?”

“It’s a guy named Negan. Apparently, Negan and Jadis were living together and a guy named RICK came between them. Negan got so angry, that he and his bat took it out on an innocent bystander.”

 

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“So Clay, had nothing to do with it.”

Andrew said, “Yep, poor guy.”

“So what happens now?”

“Clay gets buried tomorrow, they’ve arrested Negan, Rick went back to Virginia, you’re free and I have a date with Jadis tonight.”

 

Fact or fiction? What are your thoughts?

Your three words, my little story: confiscate, pyramid, region

Your three words, my little story: confiscate, pyramid & region

In 1995, my ex wife and I took a trip to Israel, for the Holy Land Tour, hopefully it won’t be my last.

One of my strongest memories, of the trip, was how tan the scenery was. I guess it could have been a combination of the REGION and the excursion taken by our tour guide. It really wasn’t a colorful country, but to date it was the most exciting trip I ever took.

 

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During the trip we visited the Tomb, where Jesus was laid to rest, after being crucified on the cross. Sea of Galilee, which our Pastor’s son was lucky enough to steer the boat on his thirteenth birthday. We stood on top of Masada, overlooking a grand sight including the Dead Sea. After that we actually floated in/on the Dead Sea. We saw many, many more historical sights, including the birthplace of Jesus Christ.

 

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After visiting these famed points of interest, we were invited to continue the trip for four more days in Egypt, since we were close, the price would have been discounted. The thought of visiting ‘The Great Sphinx of Giza’, ‘Mount Sinai’ or stand by an authentic Egyptian PYRAMID was enticing, but we didn’t have the money to spend on another luxurious vacation, so we continued home.

 

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We purchased several souvenirs while in Israel: one was a hat, that I bought at a little shop on a bend of the Jordan River, another was a dead misquote that was trapped inside some tree sap and we also bought some Jerusalem jelly.

Standing at customs, after landing back in the states, we were asked, “Do you have anything to claim?”

While we were thinking, I said, “This was a great vacation, but it’s really nice to be home.”

“Again, do you have anything to claim?”

Wondering if they were going to CONISCATE anything, I said, “We bought some really nice jelly. Is that what you’re talking about?”

“Is that all?”

“That’s it, as far as I can remember. Oh, I bought a misquote in some tree sap.”

They didn’t even open our bags, she simply waved us on, as she grinned and said, “Welcome home Mr. and Mrs. McDonald, nice to have you back.”

 

Fact or fiction? What are your thoughts?