Majestically Muddling

A: This is Majestic.

D: And the muddled?

A: Me, every day?

D: And you decided that it was worthy of a blog post.

A: Well, I could regale the good people with the details of my horrifically cold rummage sale over the weekend.

D: Please don’t.

A: Exactly my point. Lacking anything better, I thought I’d share some very funny DeviantArt cartoons I found, courtesy the OneRing.Net.

D: I’m sensing a theme with you.

A: Whatever do you mean?

D: You know what I mean. You have this sheepish grin on your face and you keep giggling. How old are you, woman?

A: Apparently not old enough for you, which in my book, is an okay thing.

D: In your book? What book? Have you written a book?

A: Bite me.

D: Ah, the eloquence.

A: (Eye roll) Look, I am continually charmed and wowed by The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, never mind the white-fleshed orc, unexpected hugging and made-up elven lasses. So is the creator of The Oakentoons. Did I mention that they’re funny? Because they are. Ridiculously so. Go. Read now.

D: Wow, is she bossy today or what? Been eating your Wheaties, A?

A: Um, gluten intolerant, so no. Do eggs, sausage and a protein shake count towards bossiness?

D: Probably better than Wheaties . . . anyway, in case you didn’t decide to run off and look at all 66 Oakentoons, you might want to stop by the Community Storyboard for the Prompt of the Week, Autumn.

A: I love autumn and all (no, really I do – love love love, and I can’t wait to write for the prompt), but I think you should run off and look at all 66 Oakentoons. Autumn can wait. Then again, you may be waiting for something more witty, in which case, wander on down to Andra’s series on taking the plunge and embracing change. It’s well worth the read.

D: Also well worth a read: book blogger extraordinaire, Ionia Martin – she who showcases all others – has been showcased herself, by author Bianca Sloane.

So my fine friends, even if you didn’t read all 66 Oakentoons (but really, you should), what give you a real giggle and smile – not necessarily a belly laugh, but a charmed, can’t-help-but-grin giggle?

Weekly Prompt – Autumn

A: Check out this week’s prompt at the Community Storyboard: Autumn!

D: Well, that should make you happy, Miss I-Want-it-to-be-October.

A: Yes, it does make me happy. Very very happy. You could take a lesson from Autumn, D.

D: How’s that.

A: It never manages to overstay its welcome!

D: Ooh, ouch! Touche, A. Touche.

The CSB Chainstory is now complete!

Squirrels, This Time It’s Personal is complete! Many thanks to Green Embers for completing the multi-part Community Storyboard chain-story extravaganza! And, even better, it’s now an ebook!! Wonderful job everyone!

My Name is D, Part 3: Jackpot

My Name is D, Part 3: Jackpot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

From Part 1: I opened my door. Regretfully, I was not paying attention to my nearest blind spot, so worried was I about watching the road behind me. A – she was dangerous and she was pissed.

I smashed the unknown woman in the leg. I heard the crack. I heard her scream and my heart sank. Oh no, not again. . .

I turned, expecting the worst.

What I got was a slap to the face and the bellicose roar of a husky grandmother.

Well, I guessed she was a grandmother. She was as hunched, wrinkled and grey as one, but I’m not entirely certain that any man had been able to get past the mustache and deep voice to make an honest woman of her – or a woman at all, for that matter.

I rubbed my cheek where her gloved hand had left its mark and attempted to offer my apologies. I can be suave when I want to be, but Grandma was having none of it.

“Don’t try to sweet-talk me, you worthless, good-for-nothing drifter. Yes, drifter. I know your kind – look what you did to my cane! How do you expect me to walk to church – to the market – to my bridge club – with my cane looking like this!

She held the mangled thing up for me to see. I winced. Old Johnson’s car was a trash heap but it was a solidly-built trash heap. I think that cane – looking as calcified as its owner – would have dented the door to any modern car. Unfortunately, the boat of a Buick had trashed it.

As she shook it in my face, a bit of metal clattered to the pavement. I bent to pick it up and spied a glittering within the splintered once-handsome cane. In fact, quite a bit about Grandma glittered.

There was gold in them there hills, as A would say.

I held the cane’s brass tip and quickly re-evaluated the woman before me. She’d stopped yelling at me. For the moment, she was content with merely giving me a glare fierce enough to scare most puppies and small children.

I am not a puppy, nor am I small.

The mustache wasn’t so bad – all woman of a certain age get them, I hear. And she wasn’t so much wrinkled as slightly rumpled, like a loved-in bed. And have I mentioned that grey is one of my favorite colors? No? Well, it is.

Yes, yes I think I could make this work.

I gave Grandma a smile.

“Please accept my deepest apologies my good woman. This is not my car, merely a loan. I was stranded on the road and a good man, named Ronald Johnson, gave me . . . .this so that I could make my way to the nearest mote of civilization to file a complaint against the brigands who accosted me.”

Grandma stared at me. There was a slight flush to that ancient cheek. I clasped her hand in mine, and placed the cane’s tip at the heart of her gloved palm.

“My name is Declan McAlister,” I said, staring into the eyes that were neither clouded nor bemused. “And you must allow me to assist you.”

***

A: D, you . . . you . . . how could you?

D: How could I what? He broke the dear woman’s cane. He needed to make reparations. He was simply being honorable.

A: Honorable, my Aunt Fanny. D took one look at that old woman’s fancy cane and saw the words “sugar momma” all over her.

D: D is driving a hunk of junk that rattles and belches unmentionable smells. He needs help.

A: Oh boy, does he ever! Oh, and D. . . I notice he’s using a fake name.

D: Your point?

A: Guess you liked Declan after all, hm?

D: It worked in a pinch. Don’t get your hopes up.

A: (Eye roll) Indeed.

Well ladies and gents, this is as close as the D/A Dialogues get to erotica! It’s just not our thing. But if it is yours, head over to the Community Storyboard for this week’s prompts submissions.

Giving Thanks Every Day – Because it’s Pamela’s Birthday

Six Lit Birthday CandlesA: Wednesday is Druid’s day, but it’s also Pamela’s Birthday. D and I wanted to do this especially for you, Pamela! Take it away, D!

D: Can you find one thing to be grateful for, every single day? Would you make it a point to say that one thing (or two things, or ten, or twenty) and say it loud and clear for the world – at least the blogosphere – to see?

Pamela does.

A: Pamela is a bright spot in my day, and the day of many other bloggers. She reminds me to approach my world mindfully, looking for things to be happy about. I can think of no greater gift.

D: She supports authors like A, and all sorts of blogging characters. She cheers us with her stories—

A: That grandson with his smile.

D: Her daughter with her artistic flair.

A: She’s a poet in her own right,

D: And A, please stop, before we start to fight.

A: Over my really bad rhyme, am I right?

D: (Groan) Move on, woman.

A: (Tee hee) Well Pam, on this D and I can actually agree: You are spot on – you’re the ‘nth degree! Happy Birthday!