Let’s Partay!

27AFA678-9ECA-42E3-A98B-EED506C7B858“Hey, dude, did you bring the papers?” she asked.

Zack smiled and held up the package of Zig-Zag rolling papers. “Only the best,” he said.

She looked over at Danny. “Did you remember to bring the hash pipe?”

Danny smiled and showed her the pipe.

“Great boys,” Grandma said. “Let’s partay!”

Written for Paula Light’s Three Things Challenge, where the three things are “zigzag,” “hash,” and “grandma.”

MLMM Tale Weaver — The Golden Years

7B72DFDE-E20E-4004-B9E2-D8773ABC9FE0“Look at this lunch,” groused Herman. “I can’t believe how much this place is starting to skimp on the food. And they call these ‘the golden years,’ yeah, right.”

“Oh Herman, quit your bitching and moaning,” Gladys, another resident in the retirement home, implored. “I’m sick and tired of hearing your constant complaints.”

“Overall, I think the food they serve us is pretty decent,” Charles chimed in.

Herman rolled his eyes. “Charles, you couldn’t distinguish between shit and Shinola if your life depended on it, so who are you to judge the quality of this crap they’re serving us? And, Gladys, what kind of ivory tower are you living in?”

“Herman, you have such a rotten disposition,” Gladys responded. “The one thing you can’t escape is getting older.”

“Well, all I’m saying is that whoever came up with ‘the golden years’ as a euphemism for being old was definitely not old,” Herman said.

“If you consider the alternative to getting old,” Charles said, “being old, alive, and breathing is definitely golden. Now quit your grousing and finish your lunch. Bingo starts at one o’clock sharp.”

Written for the Tale Weaver prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, where the challenge is to write a tale about old age. Also for these daily prompts: Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (skimp), Ragtag Daily Prompt (distinguish), The Daily Spur (tower), Word of the Day Challenge (escape), and Your Daily Word Prompt (disposition).

Finish the Story — Part Two

3BE74331-2C2A-4AE4-8AC8-12FC06AAD98ETeresa, aka The Haunted Wordsmith, started a story, “The Mystery of the Stone Circle,” and tagged me to pick it up where she left off and to write part two.

Here’s Teresa’s part one:

Sammy finished stuffing the leftover food and makeshift kitchen into his pack, which Geri strapped the tent onto the side of his pack. As the pair started back on the trail, the morning sun cast them in a golden glow. The weather that week had been everything a hiker could ever hope for — cool evenings, warm mornings, and just enough mist in the afternoon to keep the hot summer sun at bay.

“I think it’s just over that crest,” Geri said, stuffing the map and compass back into the pocket in his cargo pants.

Sammy nodded. “Good, I’m tired of all these switchbacks. Throw a rope down and let us hike straight up.”

Geri laughed and slapped Sammy on the arm as he passed him. “Race you to the top.”

Sammy groaned but chuckled and shook his head at his friend. Ever since third year’s sports parade and carnival, Geri was always on the go. That’s one of the things that attracted Sammy to him, although he knew they would never be anything more than friends. Until four months ago when he served as Geri’s best man, he had always held out a little hope.

“Told ya!” Geri shouted from the top of the trail, pointing into the valley below.

“Man,” Sammy said, panting, “that’s amazing.”

They stood on the crest of the hill and looked at the concentric circles etched in the ground and the various stones that jutted out of the ground as if something from deep within was trying to speak.

“You know,” Geri said as they headed down toward the ancient ruin, “they say that this was built by …

And here’s my part two:

“…aliens who landed here eons ago, when dinosaurs still roamed the planet. These extraterrestrial beings attempted to colonize Earth, but the same giant asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs, also put an end to the aliens’ attempt to make a home here on Earth.”

Sammy looked at Geri and shook his head. “Oh my God,” he said. “Did you take a hit on some of that potent ganja I have in my backpack? Seriously, Geri, you can’t really believe that.”

“Look at it, Sammy,” Geri said, somewhat defensively. “Clearly what we’re looking at is not man-made. Those are perfect circles within perfect circles and they cover several square miles along the valley floor. And that pile of huge boulders in the center. How do you think they got there? I’ll tell you. They are what’s left of a giant temple the aliens built in honor of their god.”

“I never realized what a nut job you are, dude,” Sammy said. “You’re either suffering from altitude sickness and exhaustion, or you’re just plumb loco.”

“Okay, Geri,” Sammy said. “If you’re so damn smart, what’s your explanation for what we’re looking at?”

Geri took a deep breath and said, “It’s really very simple, Sammy. You see…

And now for part three I’m going to tag the creative tale weaver, Li, over at Tao-Talk.

Take it away, Li.

In Other Words — Marigolds

08C61C6D-BEA8-4DA7-B0C3-6C1E5A2436C1Mares eat oats and
Dōes eat oats and
Little lambs eat ivy

So why the hell am I cursed with a dog
Who eats only marigolds?

Written for the In Other Words prompt from Patricia’s Place. The challenge this week is to write a story or poem of five lines or fewer using the picture above and/or the word “marigolds.” Photo credit: Lisa Yount on skitterphoto.