There is a simple solution to every problem. Now he would prove it. With champagne tastes on an overdrawn bank account and a college diploma just a dream, he stepped to the edge of the tower and jumped.
Esther’s Can You Tell A Story In prompt words are: Champagne, tower, overdrawn, diploma and it needs to be in 38 words.
The Red High Heels
When I saw them in the store,
one half classy and one half whore,
the Crocs I had on seemed a bore.
Those heels were strappy, cut low, red.
I knew those heels would knock men dead.
As I left the store in them,
I was feeling oh so femme
until one shoe caught on my hem.
‘Twas then that I went tumbling down,
wrenched my ankle and tore my gown.
This fall was just a quirk, I thought,
with no regrets for what I’d bought,
for I was feeling oh so hot
that men would surely all be gawking.
I’d be more careful with my walking.
In Mexico, young girls or crones
go tripping over cobblestones
with no risk to their ankle bones.
Moving with sure-footed grace,
they never fall upon their face.
They chat as they cross streets together
even in inclement weather––
Their four-inch heels of strappy leather
negotiate each slippery rock,
barely noticing where they walk.
So I just got up from the floor
and sauntered once more towards the door
onto the street outside the store.
Where, once I got into the swing
I knew those shoes were just the thing.
My car was just one block away
but it was such a lovely day,
I thought that I would just sashay
up to the plaza for lunch and booze––
a trial run for my new shoes!
I belted up my dress a bit
so I would not trip over it.
Once more I felt sexy and fit
as I accomplished no small feat
negotiating each walk and street.
I must admit that I felt hobbled
as I walked over roadways cobbled.
Perhaps I grimaced, winced and wobbled.
But at the time, I was enthused––
thinking only of my new shoes.
When I reached the plaza and I walked by
a table of men, I felt each eye
peruse my legs from toe to thigh.
I knew that those new shoes were why
I held the gaze of every guy.
Maneuvering towards an empty table,
I walked as well as I was able,
but overlooked just one small cable
as I glanced over for their reaction.
That’s how I ended up in traction!
For Writing Prompts, the prompt is “Red.” Image by Kira Severinova on Unsplash
Although this story doesn’t meet the criteria for the diVerse Poets prompt of a 20 line poem prompted by the Folsom Prison Blues, it was certainly inspired by the prompt, so although I’m not posting it to diVerse Poets, I am posting it to my blog and Facebook. True story that I had totally forgotten until I saw this prompt.
Jailbird
It was a bit before midnight the night before Xmas Eve in 1975. I was just home from a party at my sister’s house, where my mother was staying, still in my long party dress with an apron over it because I was preparing the meal for Xmas Eve, when they would all be coming to my house for and afternoon meal. I’d just opened the fridge to put the cranberries in to jell when there was a LOUD pounding on the door. Startled, I called out, “Who is it?” I couldn’t imagine, but they sounded in a good bit of distress.
“Police, Ma’am. Open up!” Of course I thought it must be a joke.
“Okay, really, who is it? Buffy?” Sure it must be friends make a drop-by after they left the bar, I used the first name that came to mind of someone who might think it was funny to rouse me out of bed on what now, by the clock, was already Xmas Eve.”
“Open up. We have a warrant for your arrest!!!” This didn’t sound like the voice of any friend of mine. I opened the drapes and peered out, and sure enough, there was a police car parked in the street in front of my apartment, its lights shining brightly and its cherry top rotating and sending a circle of red through the neighborhood. I could see the drapes of apartments on the floors above opening as well in our L shaped apartment complex. I opened the door, and there were two uniformed policemen, handcuffs extended, ready to haul me off to jail… for what?
It was my second year of teaching English in Cheyenne, Wyoming. So far as I knew, I was free of any felonies short of perhaps driving home after a few drinks at the Corner Bar with my fellow teachers, but if guilty of that, I had never been caught. What in the world could be happening?
What was I being arrested for?
“Outstanding speeding ticket, Ma’am.” They allowed me to get my coat, one of them following me into the bedroom as I collected it, then they directed me out to the car. As we approached the police car, one opened the back door and the other one demanded that I put my hands behind my back to be cuffed.
“You’re going to handcuff me? You must be kidding me! I have an outstanding speeding ticket that I forgot to pay because the day I was supposed to pay it, I accompanied the high school pom pom girls to Casper for a cross country meet as their sponsor!!! You are going to not only drag me in on Xmas Eve, but you’re going to handcuff me?
They exchanged looks, and I think I detected a bit of embarrassment on their part. The handcuffs were put away and I sat in the screened back seat with my hands, at least, free.
When we arrived at the jail, I was booked and told I could make one phone call. I called my principal, thinking after all the reason I had neglected to pay my fine was in the pursuit of school business. “Jim, can you come bail me out of jail? I’ve been arrested.” He laughed. “Judy, go to bed. It’s too late for one of your jokes. We’ll see you tomorrow!” And he hung up!!!! Could I make another call? No, I was limited to one. Again, I made my plea. I was a local schoolteacher. Not paying the speeding ticket was an oversight. I was chaperoning at a school activity! Probably half of the police officers on the force had gone to my school! Finally, they granted me one more phone call. I called my sister, and because my mother by habit carried a lot of cash, luckily they had the bail money on hand.
As I awaited my savior, “Where should we put her?” One of the arresting officers asked.
“Put her in the drunk tank. She’s no better than any of the rest of them!” the desk sergeant directed.
And so it was that I joined all of the rest of the undesirables in the county jail. As I passed down the corridor to the drunk tank, I passed the cell of a local man being held for murder and a number of other detainees who looked a bit surprised at seeing a local schoolteacher in a floor length party dress being hauled off to the drunk tank. I later discovered that the judge of traffic court, disgusted at all the unpaid fines, had directed that every person with an outstanding fine to pay should be rounded up as a lesson in what happened to those neglectful of their civic duty to pay their debt to society!!!!
My sister arrived in about 1/2 hour with my bail money and gave me a ride home, chuckling all the way. The next day when my family arrived at my house, when I opened my Xmas stocking, there was a plastic set of handcuffs in its very bottom. Evidently my enterprising brother-in-law had somehow located a set in some venue open on Xmas Eve. My mother’s gift to me that year was to pay my bail money.It was, all in all, one of my most memorable Christmases. True story.
Bride’s First Meal
It was a layered casserole of maize and squash and beans
whose contents were indigenous and well within her means.
She blanched and drained and layered in a glass loaf pan.
She followed all directions and plotted out each plan.
Dabbing on her favorite essence, she donned his favorite dress.
With the front door open, she didn’t have to guess
when he was walking up the lane and so she would be able
to greet him with a soulful kiss and dinner on the table.
But, her first endeavor she’d hoped would be delicious,
in fact was not ambrosial, but instead pernicious.
It seemed as though the entire dish might be having troubles
as it rose above its boundaries with ominous pops and bubbles.
In short,
These were the things that went amiss
after his entrance and their kiss.
She rued the day that dish was born.
The squash was tough, as was the corn.
Instead they went to Burger King
and ordered one of everything,
came on home and gorged on it,
so their first meal was quite a hit.
She pitched her failed attempt within
a nearby waiting rubbish bin.
She was smart and so good looking.
He didn’t wed her for her cooking.
For JustJoJan#26 the prompt is “rubbish.”
Sugar, Sugar––You and Me
Hey, Sugar Sugar, you’re the one for me.
I enjoy each calorie.
Smooth or frozen with chocolate on top,
washed down with a glass of pop.
Pile on the sprinkles and roll in nuts.
You’re the best, no ands or buts.
My little Sugar is smooth and dreamy.
My little Sugar chewy, creamy.
Shortbread, brownies, chocolate chip––
in my coffee, I like to dip.
But cheesecake, pie––other forms of sin––
I put on the table and dive right in.
Swim to the middle with my teeth,
see what there can be beneath
the icing or cream or chocolate sauce.
When dessert arrives, Sugar’s the boss.
Hey Sugar, Sugar, you’re the one
in snow or rain or blistering sun.
I don’t care if you’re hot or cold.
Baked Alaska is great, I’m told,
but I also like a big old cone
just piled with ice cream, all alone.
Don’t touch my Sugar, don’t you dare!!!
When it comes to Sugar, I don’t share!!!
The prompt for Linda’s Just Jot it, Jan 12, is “Chewy.”
Welcome to “The Numbers Game #107”. Today’s number is 229 . To play along, go to your photos file folder and type that number into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the title. This prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below. Here are my contributions to the album.
**Click on Photos to Enlarge and View as Gallery.**
I took this lovely little oriole away from the cat thinking it was still alive, but ten minutes later, I haven’t been able to resuscitate it. So so sad. Spending more time in nature can be both a blessing and a heartache. Realizing the mixed natures of both society as a whole and those we love is the same. I had just fed the cat, so she could not have been hungry. It is hard to accept killing for the pure pleasure of it…or that this tendency is in the nature of many aspects of nature, to one degree or another.
Just before this happened, I was informed that I’d been kicked off Facebook for going against community standards. I can’t help but wonder if there is a connection between the two. Your guess is as good as mine.
Aha, this message just arrived on email:
Magnanimity
Truth works its ancient magic, shaping a fluid world––
moment after moment coming slowly unfurled.
Whatever force holds power to shift errant mankind
beams blunt messages to Earth hoping we will find
those who will stifle envy and hate and greed to sow
seeds of magnanimity for all of those they know
are in need of shelter or clothing, food or care,
abolishing injustices, stripping falsehoods bare.
That scroll upon which truth is written, unfurled once again,
reveals what some in power have called truth is really sin.
Prompt words for The Sunday Whirl are: beam blunt works moment own shape ancient envy truth scroll shift fluid
I just had the best 5-hour visit with Shauna Guinn, lady of many talents, who pulled me right up out of the doldrums I’ve been experiencing for the past few days. Shauna and her wife Samantha Stevens (who I did not get to meet since she was suffering from a case of sun stroke contracted on her boat trip to Scorpion Island this morning) were given my contact information by my stepson Shane Mcbagley, who is a BBQ chef and restaurateur himself as he knew they were touring Mexico, and I’m so glad he did. If you want to know more, I’ll include links to their interviews on Good Food as well as their Ted Talk.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002n5pb
Bedtime for Zoe
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 