Sales, reviews, interviews are all welcome :-) Read and enjoy my latest! (ebook will be available in a week)
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps/dp/1940938430
Saturday, January 17, 2015
How to Build a Castle in Seven Easy Steps in Paperback!
Yes! Finally! It's out! :-)
Sales, reviews, interviews are all welcome :-) Read and enjoy my latest! (ebook will be available in a week)
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps/dp/1940938430
Sales, reviews, interviews are all welcome :-) Read and enjoy my latest! (ebook will be available in a week)
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps/dp/1940938430
Friday, January 16, 2015
TIW 2014 Winter Solstice Open! Voting time!
And it's time!
This week is the TIW 2014 Winter Solstice Open Championship...and I'm in it!
"Not so Neighborly"...a dialogue-driven punchline ending short story...hiding a story about "Je Suis Charlie"
Please, come and read and VOTE for me, Dani J Caile!
Please go here to vote!
http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/
Here is the story :-)
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
- See more at: http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/#sthash.lsBwdftB.dpuf
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
- See more at: http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/#sthash.lsBwdftB.dpuf
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
- See more at: http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/#sthash.lsBwdftB.dpuf
This week is the TIW 2014 Winter Solstice Open Championship...and I'm in it!
"Not so Neighborly"...a dialogue-driven punchline ending short story...hiding a story about "Je Suis Charlie"
Please, come and read and VOTE for me, Dani J Caile!
Please go here to vote!
http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/
Here is the story :-)
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
- See more at: http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/#sthash.lsBwdftB.dpuf
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
- See more at: http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/#sthash.lsBwdftB.dpuf
Not So Neighborly
Dani J. Caile“What’s the matter, dear?” asked Doris, entering the lounge.
“The matter? Can’t you hear it?” Bob pointed out to the backyard.
“Oh, the neighbor.”
“Yes, the neighbor!”
“Well, he has the right to mow his lawn…”
“At 2am in the morning?”
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
“You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan.”
“A bit loud?”
“He even left a note on your car…”
“Don’t talk to me about that note!” Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
“…though I think ‘country’ is spelled with an ‘ou’…”
“But he started it! He cut my hedge!”
“You put nails on his drive, dear.”
“And he set fire to my postbox!”
“You can’t prove that.”
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
“I’ve had enough of this, where’s Elvis?”
“Please, dear, no.”
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of ‘Elvis: The ’68 Comeback Special’ and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
“What the…!”
On the screen wasn’t the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock ’n’ Roll, bashing out ‘Trouble/Guitar Man’, but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
“What the heck is this?”
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
“Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks.”
“But…how…?” He took out the DVD and looked at it. “This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you…?”
“No, dear, I wouldn’t dream of touching…oh.”
“What?”
“The neighbor.”
“What!”
“Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?”
“How can I forget! He went on until midnight!”
“Well, he came over the other day to check if he’d done any damage. I thought that was nice of him…”
“You let him in?”
“Sorry.”
“This means war!”
With the sound of the neighbor’s Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
“I’m gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!”
“You’re not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that.”
“Ingenuity? Ingenuity!” Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. “What happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while…?”
“No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club.”
“And then what…?” The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
“Come to think of it,” mused Doris through the sound of shotgun blasts, “perhaps hiring those male strippers and the All Boy Carribean Steel Drum band was a bit over the top…”
- See more at: http://theironwriter.com/2014-winter-solstice-open-championship/#sthash.lsBwdftB.dpuf
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Nutcase? ...nutcase...
I clicked on a video of Bono talking about 'Jesus'...I think the interview is from his book 'Bono', anyway...he kinda sums up the stupidity of humanity, really. He is the epitomy of it. Listen to this...
"...either Christ was who He said He was the Messiah or a complete nutcase. I mean, we’re talking nutcase on the level of Charles Manson. ...(blah, blah)... The idea that the entire course of civilization for over half of the globe could have its fate changed and turned upside-down by a nutcase, for me, that’s farfetched."
Is it? Is it really? People have ONLY ever followed nutcases...just look at history.
Back to writing...
If you missed them, here are my latest TIW WQs...
WQ79 (81)
(A Marvel Superhero, A Sandstorm, Oreo Cookies, The feeling of being a Stud. 150 words)
A blast of sand covered Pepper Potts as she sunbathed on the beach with the creme de la creme of society.
“Tony!”
Ironman had landed. Actually, he’d sunk a few centimetres into the soft sand.
“Nice place. Catching some rays?”
Pepper peeked at him over the top of her sunglasses. Tony looked around, admiring the eye candy.
“Ooo, all those luscious eyes on me, makes me feel like some kind of stud. I like that.”
He’d always been a pig. Pepper put her book down and glared into the eyes of his helmet.
“Wow, with that look you could contend with Torch.”
“Well, ‘stud’, did you get me those Oreo cookies I asked for?”
“Oh, erm, sorry, I forgot. Between battling with Doctor Doom and outfoxing Hypnotia, I completely forgot about them.”
“So?”
“I’ll go get some now.” He flew off towards the shops, creating a sandstorm on the beach.
WQ - 80 (82)
(The Song “I like them Big and Chunky”, a Donkey, one of the Iron Writers, a Cat. 150 Words)
“I like them big, I like the chunky,” sang Puss, sliding over to Donkey.
“You been taking that catnip again, Puss?” Donkey did his best to move away but there wasn’t much space left on the sofa as Tony Jaeger had already taken up most of it after passing out on his latest batch of mushrooms. His snoring reverberated through Donkey’s ears.
“I like them big, I like them plumpy,” continued Puss.
“I don’t like the sound of them dumplings!” Donkey escaped from the clutch of his comrade’s Nepeta cataria-induced state and
cantered out of the room. He turned and watched from behind the door.
“Ah-ha, I see another sexy, succulent beast who has as yet to enjoy my feverous lust and infatuation,” purred Puss, moving over to the sleeping Tony.
“More like flatuation! Leave the man, alone, Puss! He ain’t done nothin’ to you!” screamed Donkey.
Oh, the 'Figment' King Dork competition ended...I didn't win. I read the first 3 winners (of 10)...why did they win? Terrible prose, terrible stories. Again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Figment does not have a philologist on their staff, and if they did, they must be drunk.
"...either Christ was who He said He was the Messiah or a complete nutcase. I mean, we’re talking nutcase on the level of Charles Manson. ...(blah, blah)... The idea that the entire course of civilization for over half of the globe could have its fate changed and turned upside-down by a nutcase, for me, that’s farfetched."
Is it? Is it really? People have ONLY ever followed nutcases...just look at history.
Back to writing...
If you missed them, here are my latest TIW WQs...
WQ79 (81)
(A Marvel Superhero, A Sandstorm, Oreo Cookies, The feeling of being a Stud. 150 words)
A blast of sand covered Pepper Potts as she sunbathed on the beach with the creme de la creme of society.
“Tony!”
Ironman had landed. Actually, he’d sunk a few centimetres into the soft sand.
“Nice place. Catching some rays?”
Pepper peeked at him over the top of her sunglasses. Tony looked around, admiring the eye candy.
“Ooo, all those luscious eyes on me, makes me feel like some kind of stud. I like that.”
He’d always been a pig. Pepper put her book down and glared into the eyes of his helmet.
“Wow, with that look you could contend with Torch.”
“Well, ‘stud’, did you get me those Oreo cookies I asked for?”
“Oh, erm, sorry, I forgot. Between battling with Doctor Doom and outfoxing Hypnotia, I completely forgot about them.”
“So?”
“I’ll go get some now.” He flew off towards the shops, creating a sandstorm on the beach.
WQ - 80 (82)
(The Song “I like them Big and Chunky”, a Donkey, one of the Iron Writers, a Cat. 150 Words)
“I like them big, I like the chunky,” sang Puss, sliding over to Donkey.
“You been taking that catnip again, Puss?” Donkey did his best to move away but there wasn’t much space left on the sofa as Tony Jaeger had already taken up most of it after passing out on his latest batch of mushrooms. His snoring reverberated through Donkey’s ears.
“I like them big, I like them plumpy,” continued Puss.
“I don’t like the sound of them dumplings!” Donkey escaped from the clutch of his comrade’s Nepeta cataria-induced state and
cantered out of the room. He turned and watched from behind the door.
“Ah-ha, I see another sexy, succulent beast who has as yet to enjoy my feverous lust and infatuation,” purred Puss, moving over to the sleeping Tony.
“More like flatuation! Leave the man, alone, Puss! He ain’t done nothin’ to you!” screamed Donkey.
Oh, the 'Figment' King Dork competition ended...I didn't win. I read the first 3 winners (of 10)...why did they win? Terrible prose, terrible stories. Again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Figment does not have a philologist on their staff, and if they did, they must be drunk.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Great new review on Amazon.com.au!
Here is a great review on Amazon Australia (amazon.com.au) from Maureen Larter, a fellow TIW writer. Okay, so it's not 5 stars but 4 stars is the NEW 5 stars :-) Thanks, Maureen :-)
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4.0 out of 5 stars
If you are easily offended, this book isn't for you - but ..., 8 January 2015
Verified Purchase
This review is from: The Bethlehem Fiasco (Kindle Edition)
A VERY quirky take on a well known story! If you
are easily offended, this book isn't for you - but I laughed and
enjoyed the sinful interpretation with incompetent hobgoblins and lazy
angels that make mistakes being all part of the mix.
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I have a few reviews here on Amazon Australia...they're fantastic! At least some people know I try...(yes, I'm very trying)
NOTE: Got through to the TIW Winter Solstice Open Final (long title), along with 4 others...next week, votes please :-)
Short story contest :-)
Hollyjahangiri (http://jahangiri.us/2013/short-story-contest/)
has a nice little contest, to make an original short story from whatever is in
your Spam or Trash folders.
I chose my Spam and seeing as no limit was mentioned,
I thought a 150 word Flash Fiction story.
Here goes...I hope she likes it :-)
Notice!
"Jamie! You
have an urgent court notice!" Devlyn ran into the Ping River Brigade
clubhouse and tripped over a large parcel from FedEx. He picked himself up and
shook the paper at his colleague.
"Now? But
what about the storewide sales that end on Sunday? And those B&B getaways I
SO needed to choose from?" screamed Jamie, jumping down from his Higher
Education and dropping his copy of the Hunts Post.
"You're just
gonna have to go down to Ariana's place and buy from her best gift ideas when
you receive Batch A in your e-mails. You're not married, pregnant and 13
anymore, you know?"
"Damn,"
murmered Jamie, ripping the court notice from Devlyn's hands and reading the
small print. "Do you think they'll let me out to apply at UCAS to secure a
place?"
"Oh, I'm sure they will, Jamie. I mean, it's either 'sell or die',"
he smiled.Thursday, January 8, 2015
Into the Final!
Thank you for all your support, I made it into the TIW Winter Solstice Flash fiction Final (again).
The judges didn't like my great 'Guardians of the Galaxy' ripoff short story, but I got enough votes PLUS winning the Popular vote to tie with Chris Garrison to be the first '5th' member of a Final.
My new book "How to build a castle in seven easy steps" is out soon, very soon (perhaps this week).
If you'd like a copy or a signed copy (OMG) then please comment below and I'll see what I can do. The cover is FANTASTIC!
Now I'm off to write my entry for the Final :-)
The judges didn't like my great 'Guardians of the Galaxy' ripoff short story, but I got enough votes PLUS winning the Popular vote to tie with Chris Garrison to be the first '5th' member of a Final.
My new book "How to build a castle in seven easy steps" is out soon, very soon (perhaps this week).
If you'd like a copy or a signed copy (OMG) then please comment below and I'll see what I can do. The cover is FANTASTIC!
Now I'm off to write my entry for the Final :-)
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Competitions! Need votes!
Sorry for the gap between posts, I've been a little ill lately, what with being insane and breaking my writing arm.
This week I'm in the TIW Winter Solstice Prelims...with a pre-'Guardians of the Galaxy' short story, you should go over and read it, vote for it, too, that would help :-)
http://theironwriter.com/the-donna-tartt-bracket/
If I get through, I'll be in the TIW Winter Solstice Final...again :-)
Also doing the TIW Novel Competition, 3 months, write a 35,000+ word novel. At the end of January there's a 'cut off' with Chapter 1s, only a few continue on to finish...I'll finish it no matter what.
I also have a 250 word story here in another competition, though you may have to scroll down to find it...
http://writerunboxed.com/2015/01/03/following-the-breadcrumbs-wu-flash-fiction-competition-round-1/
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