Day: December 18, 2020

#WDYS — The Set Designer

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“What the hell, people?” Arthur screamed at his staff. “I’m an Oscar-winning set designer, for crissake. This movie is supposed to be a period piece set in the 1950s. What is this radio doing on the set?”

“But Arthur,” one of Arthur’s young assistants said, “that radio has the look and feel of radios from the Fifties. It’s quite authentic.”

“And you know that how, Ryan?” Arthur snapped back. “You were born in the Nineties. You wouldn’t know a 1950s authentic radio if it bit you on your stupid ass.”

“I Googled 1950s radios and this radio looks like a lot of the images I saw,” Ryan defensively said.

Arthur reach over and grabbed the radio off of the table and thrust it in front of Ryan’s face. “What do you see?” he screamed.

Ryan carefully read the words at the bottom of the radio dial. “Um, you mean where it says it’s an MP3 player?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “That and the fact that above the dial there’s USB port and a slot for an SD card. None of that technology existed in the 1950s, you imbecile. I don’t want a replica. I don’t want something designed to look like a 1950s radio. I want a goddam authentic 1950s radio. Do you understand?”

“But sir,” Ryan said, “this radio will be on a table in the background. No one will see any of that detail.”

Arthur forcefully threw the radio onto the floor, smashing it to pieces. “I won a fucking Academy Award, you idiot,” he said, practically frothing at the mouth. “Attention to detail is my calling card. My professional reputation is on the line. I will not stand for bogus crap like this. Now you go out and get me an authentic 1950s-era radio or don’t bother coming back at all.”

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Ryan said as he ran from the movie set.

Written for the What Do You See? Prompt from Sadje at Keep It Alive. Photo credit: Shche- Team @ Unsplash.

MLMM Tale Weaver — Scout’s Honor

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Poor old Harold became quite verklempt when he discovered that someone had stolen all of his hard-earned, glorious badges that he’d earned when he was in the scouts. The distance of years from his scouting days hadn’t diminished the pride he felt from having been awarded those badges for being adroit at the requisite skills.

If he were ever to recover those badges, this was not the time to procrastinate. But what choice did he have? The pandemic was still out-of-control and everyone was in isolation due to the mandated, state-wide stay at home orders.

Written for the Tale Weaver prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, where the prompt is “badges.” Also for these daily prompts: Word of the Day Challenge (verklempt), Your Daily Word prompt (glorious), The Daily Spur (distance), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (adroit), Ragtag Daily Prompt (procrastinate), and MMA Storytime (isolation).

Fibbing Friday — Fairytale Fibs

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Frank (aka PCGuy) and Di (aka Pensitivity101) alternate as host for Fibbing Friday, a silly little exercise where we are to write a post with our answers to the ten questions below. But as the title suggests, truth is not an option. The idea is to fib a little, a lot, tell whoppers, be inventive, silly, or even outrageous, in our responses. Today is Di’s turn to host and here are her questions.

1. Why is a Pantomime thus called?

Because an old Italian guy was wandering around his small town without any pants on and he kept yelling, “Where are those pant o’ mine? I cannot find those pant ‘o mine.” People wanted him to shut up and stop yelling, so they invented a new way of communicating and, in honor of that old Italian guy frantically looking for his pants, called it “pantomime.”

2. Why was the White Rabbit late?

She was pregnant.

3. What happened when Aladdin rubbed the lamp for the first time?

He experienced his first orgasm.

4. How many ugly sisters were there?

Three. They were witches and sisters, often referred to as the Weird Sisters or Wayward Sisters. They were introduced in William Shakespeare’s Macbeth and were known for their chant, “Double, double, toil, and trouble / Fire burn and cauldron bubble.” They were very ugly.

5. What did Jack exchange for the magic beans?

A magic flute.

6. Why do they always shout ‘It’s behind you!!’

That’s the appropriate answer when someone asks, “Where’s my butt?”

7. What was the house in the woods made of that Hansel and Gretel found?

Magic beans.

8. Who owned The Mirror Mirror on the wall?

That was what Donald Trump shouted when he wanted to have his border wall clad with mirrors.

9. What was the name of Dick Whittington’s cat?

Tinkerbell

10. Who was Tinkerbell?

Dick Whittingon’s cat. Duh!

Friday Fictioneers — The Scarecrow

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“Look at that,” Jeremy said. “That’s sacrilegious!”

“What is?” Archie asked. “You mean that scarecrow over there?”

“Scarecrow? That’s not a scarecrow, you idiot,” Jeremy said. “That’s Jesus on the cross.”

“Nah,” Archie said. “It’s a scarecrow.”

“Scarecrows have straw hats, straw coming out from their shirt sleeves, and wear overalls,” Jeremy said. “Do you see a straw hat or overalls on that? No you don’t because that’s Jesus being crucified.”

Archie laughed. “You see Jesus everywhere, Jeremy. Didn’t you tell me last week that you saw Jesus’ face on a piece of toast? That thing’s just a simple scarecrow.”

(100 words)

Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Sandra Crook.

Fandango’s Flashback Friday — December 18

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Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of your earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember? Each Friday I will publish a post I wrote on this exact date in a previous year.

How about you? Why don’t you reach back into your own archives and highlight a post that you wrote on this very date in a previous year? You can repost your Friday Flashback post on your blog and pingback to this post. Or you can just write a comment below with a link to the post you selected.

If you’ve been blogging for less than a year, go ahead and choose a post that you previously published on this day (the 18th) of any month within the past year and link to that post in a comment.

This was originally posted on my old blog on December 18, 2013.

Shampoo

I have a huge bottle of Shampoo in my shower. It’s 28 ounces huge. And it’s not just shampoo, it’s “2-in-1” shampoo and conditioner. It’s salon tested and clinically proven to clean and condition my hair, to moisturize it, and to leave it healthy looking. It adds body, it makes my hair shiny, silky smooth, lustrous. It strengthens my hair and makes it thicker. It’s like Viagra for my hair!

Best of all, this isn’t some sissy shampoo that only girlie men would use. No siree Bob. This shampoo is formulated specifically for men. No fruity, flowery, or spice-like fragrances.

Uh uh, babycakes! It smells like musk, that greasy secretion with a powerful odor produced in a glandular sac beneath the skin of the abdomen of the male musk deer. Oh yeah, baby! Deer sweat!

For some reason, while I was taking my shower this morning, I looked at that giant bottle of shampoo and thought to myself, Isn’t it kind of ironic that I have a huge bottle of shampoo in my shower?

No, it’s not ironic that there is a humongous bottle of shampoo in my shower. Where else would one have a bottle of shampoo, if not in their shower?What is ironic, given the lack of hair on my head, is that I would have a bottle of shampoo in my shower at all. For me, a bottle of shampoo in my shower is about as useful as antiperspirant is to a male musk deer.

So why haven’t I just thrown that bottle of shampoo away? Why keep it in the shower as a daily reminder of an earlier time, a time long ago before Mother Nature had visited the curse of FDD (follicle deficiency disorder) upon me?

Do I think that if I periodically rub a healthy amount of masculine, deer musk shampoo on my pate (which, for those of you with a limited vocabulary and/or a dirty mind, means the top of my head, not a mixture of cooked ground meat and fat minced into a spreadable paste, nor my pet name for an entirely different body part) that it will suddenly and miraculously, in a Viagra-like way, stimulate new growth? That I’ll wake up the next morning with a shiny, silky smooth, lustrous, thick mane of hair?

Hey, it could happen.