Tag: Saturday Centus

Fallen off the wagon again, but I’m getting right back on! This week’s prompt suggested this direction almost immediately.

“Our fingers entwined like ribbons of light,
the Galaxy’s power provides all our might!
So let those who do evil flee with their dread,
lest we smite them down and make ‘em all dead!”

He looked at her, expectantly. She returned his gaze, skeptically.

“I’m not reciting that every time we face a supervillain,” she said.

“Then YOU come up with a catchphrase,” he grumbled.

“Don’t get pissy with me! You’re the one who wanted us to be superheroes! Look at this costume! You can see all my–”

“Fine! Change the costume, too!”

Yeah…it was a while before Bobby and Sue were ready to fight crime….

That’s how the brain of a geek works, folks.

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Here we go!

I looked at the ramshackle contraption as Pa put the finishing touches on it. He was ready to light the fuse.

“Oh my God, you really think this thing’s gonna fly?!”

“Simple physics, m’boy! The fuel burns, the exhaust shoots out the bottom, and the rocket goes up!”

“Your fuel is gasoline!”

“Burns nice! My Ma always told me, ‘Use the right fuel’.”

I shook my head. “My Grandma always told me that you’re an idiot.”

Pa laughed as he lit the fuse.

An hour later, the fire department has a whole new story to add to the rest. And Pa’s hair grew back, eventually.

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I pretty straightforward prompt this week…let’s see what we can tease out of it.

She crossed her arms. “Gimme a compliment, or I’m outta here.”

“OK…uhhh…OK, here. Without you around, I sleep like a baby.”

She grabbed her purse. “Nice try.”

“No, wait! Ever hear a baby sleep? They wake up crying every ten minutes, and they only sleep until they get held. That’s what I’m like. I can’t sleep unless I know you’re there to hold me.”

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. Then she put down her purse.

“OK, fine. You got me for one more night.”

“Should I turn down the sheets?”

“Let’s not push it.”

“Right….”

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I know, I’ve missed a few more since my new-found commitment to, well, not missing a few. Sorry! Anyhoo, here’s my take on this week’s prompt.

By way of explanation, it helps for folks not from ’round here to know that these delights are a long-proud tradition in Buffalo on Mardi-gras, owing to this region’s large Polish community.

An East-side Buffalo bakery, just before midnight….

“We’re closed up, Fred…oh no. Not again.”

“I think I got it this time, Joe.”

Fred huddled over an enormous pocket of fried and sugared dough, one foot in diameter, quivering as if alive. A hose ran from its side to the filling machine.

“It’ll never work, Fred!”

“No! Just a bit more filling…there…there! I’ve officially reached critical mass! I’ve DONE IT!”

Cracks formed in the dough….

“Fred! Duck!”

Too late.

KA-BOOM!!!

Joe wiped lemon filling from his eyes. “Ummm…get me a mop?”

“Igor obeys, Doctor Pastrystein,” Fred grumbled.

Mardi-gras in Buffalo.

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I’m a day late with this week’s prompt, not because I was busy or because I forgot, but because this prompt is so evocative to me, on a personal level, that I had to think about it for quite a while. The phrase that Jenny assigned is one that seems to fall right into place in the universe of my novel-in-waiting*, so much so that this bit might end up in a future sequel that’s trundling about my brain.

Though you go to a place
where starlight fades,
I will find you.

Though you go to a place
where darkness reigns,
I will free you.

Though you go to a place
where all is old and all is cold,
I will save you.

Never, ever forget,
all the days you have,
the place you have in my heart,

No matter how long you journey,
no matter how far you go,
and that we will live the ages

Together:

Even if we are apart,
with me still here
and you gone far, far, far far beyond
the dark side of the stars.

* For Centusians who haven’t dropped by in a bit because I’ve been lax, I have submitted the manuscript of my space opera novel to a publisher, and I have also queried a couple of agents and plan to query more and more and more until one takes me on or until all the agents in the world rise up, with one unified voice, and say, “Verily your writing doth sucketh, so bother us no more!” Anyway, there’s a lot in my universe that I can with “the dark side of the stars”.

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A little New Year’s cheer in this week’s prompt. (Yes, I missed last week. Sorry. Too busy. Or maybe I wasn’t — how would you know, anyway?)

“I will not swear at other drivers. I will not swear at other drivers. I will not swear at other drivers. I will not–“

[SQUUUUEEEEEAAAAAKKKKCCCHHHH!]

“Hey! You want a resolution? I gotcher resolution right here, pal!”

OK…starting, now.

Be nice to the other drivers, folks!

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I apologize for the somber tone of my entry for this week, but I think that the dominant event of the day is pretty self-explanatory.

On the thirteenth day of Christmas,
my parents gave to me
thirteen lilies for my grave.

Sigh….

UPDATE: By the way, this post will serve as my only comment on this blog on the awful events in Connecticut. I’ve said a few things on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, but I won’t be using this space to air any of my thoughts.

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In the wild throes of bringing my NaNoWriMo project to the finish line (or at least the appointed mile marker, since the finish line of the story isn’t even close yet), I filed last week’s Centus prompt away in my head…and filed it so completely that I forgot about it. Oops. Time for redemption, plus a little guilt:

ME: Huh. It’s Saturday.

BRAIN: Ayup! Was it just last week that you forgot to do the Centus?

ME: Gotta bring that up?

BRAIN: You’re the lazy one, not me.

ME: But you ARE me!

BRAIN: Am not. I’m just along for the ride here.

ME: Oh whatever.

BRAIN: You know that look on your face right now? I finally understand the phrase ‘a deer in the headlights’!

ME: I see what you did there.

BRAIN: Really? I thought I was the brains of this outfit.

ME: We are SO screwed.

BRAIN: I wouldn’t say that we’re–Ooooh, look! Pie!

ME: Yum!!!

Yeah, I went all meta and stuff!

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Culinarily inspired this week, I think!

“So this is a cook off for the inheritance? Is that what you’re saying?”

Grandma was dead, and now her will stipulated that whoever won this, won everything. Including the responsibility of cooking Thanksgiving Dinner every year. For the whole family. And all relatives. And covering all expenses. Using Grandma’s recipes. Which were all out of bad magazines from the 1950s.

“Yes. You against your sister, Mary. Best dish prepared in one hour wins.”

“OK.”

I went into the kitchen and grabbed ingredients. Peanut butter, limburger cheese, sardines, ketchup, a jar of Vegemite.

What of it? Money’d be nice, but I don’t wanna cook for these jerks every Thanksgiving.

(Errrr…I screwed up my link to this post from Jenny’s blog. Sorry, folks!)

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