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
