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Saturday, November 16, 2013

Iron Writer and Nanowrimo and Life

Life and Nanowrimo (and Iron Writer for its part) is keeping me away from here.
So, here's a post.
Did Weekend Quickie #10, you'll find it here, along with some others which are just as nice :-)
Still working on 'How to', and it's coming along fine, so fine. 50,000+ words is easy, but it has to be the RIGHT words. Beginning is here.
And here's my 'take' of Iron Writer's Challenge 39, if that's what takes your fancy :-) This'll be included in 'Dani's Shorts 2' in about 4 months.


39 - Like father…




(can of Campbell’s Alphabet Soup, the phrase “Live long and Prosper”,  2000 year old Map of the Earth, empty Snuff Box)





"Why can't he be like other boys of his age, play Angry Birds, or collect football cards?"
Don chased his wife around the house as she put the ironed clothes away to their places.
"Do you really want him to be like all the other boys? That's not the guy I used to know. Whatever happened to the 'my boy will be different' speech?"
They had now moved to the kitchen and were getting the lunch ready. She opened a can of Campbell's Alphabet soup and shared the contents out into three bowls. Don put the first into the microwave and set it off for 1 minute 30 seconds.
"Gone. Especially when he starts collecting every Star Trek collectable he can find, wears those poxy suits everywhere we go and says that stupid phrase 'Live long and prosper' whenever he leaves a room!"
Their son came into the room wearing a red 'guess-who-will-be-killed-in-the-next-scene' Star Trek security guard shirt and a Geordi La Forge VISOR (Visual Instrument and Sensory Organ Replacement) device over his eyes. His mother waited for the microwave to 'ping', took the bowl out, put it on a tray along with a spoon and handed it over to her son. He left the kitchen, but not before…
"Live long and prosper."
"See?"
"So he has some…eccentricities."
"Eccentricities? Eccentricities! That boy needs help. We should call a psychiatrist."
"What? No way, darling, we're not calling a shrink. Our son's just going through a phase, that's all."
"Like the cutting and scribbling phase?"
"That was 10 years ago, Don. Perfectly normal for a five-year-old."
"What, taking my antique globe down from the shelf and scribbling all over my priceless copy of Agrippa's 2,000-year-old Orbis Terrarum which was wrapped around the top? Why couldn't he draw on walls like any other kid?"
"How was he to know that map was priceless? It was your fault for leaving it out like that."
Don slammed his palm on the counter.
"It was five feet up on the top shelf!"
"He's a good climber, isn't he? His P.E. teacher says he's doing well."
"What? I don't care what his P.E. teacher says! He's not the one whose 17th century snuff box just got turned into a James T. Kirk communicator!"
"You must admit, the lid does flip open like one."
"What?"
"Besides, you never used it for anything, it was always empty."
"It's an antique! Not a toy!"
Don's wife passed him a ham sandwich.
"Thanks. Look, I don't care what you say, he's not right in the head. I'm calling Doctor Leanstein."
"If you must, darling. But really, I think you're just as much to blame as anyone."
He put the phone down before having a chance to dial.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm as liberal as a wife can be, but there will come a point where I'll have to make a stand."
Don stood up in his pink negligee and matching silk brassiere and knickers.
"What are you talking about?"  

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