A Muddle Over Spuddle

The word is “spuddle,” is a word unfamiliar to me. Perhaps it’s an anomaly, or an anagram of “puddles.“

Upon further examination, my findings are unsubstantiated, as the only reference I could find is to an obsolete, Southern England expression meaning “to make a lot of fuss about trivial things as if they are important.”

Well, I’m not going to make a fuss about an unimportant word like “spuddle.” Instead, I will throw caution to the wind and will be postponing by a day responding to any word prompts until tomorrow.

Because “spuddle” has turned my brain into muddle.


Written for these daily prompts: Ragtag Daily Prompt (spuddle), Your Daily Word Prompt (anomaly), The Daily Spur (examination), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (unsubstantiated), My Vivid Blog (wind), and Word of the Day (postponing).

MLMM First Line Friday — Zoom

“Whatever you do, you can’t do that,” Sal said.

“Can’t do what?” I asked.

Don’t be sneaky, pal,” Sal said. “You know full well what I’m talking about.”

“Honestly, I don’t,” I said. “Can you give me an assist here? Cut me some slack, maybe?”

“I’ve already given you too much leeway,” Sal said. “And it gives me little comfort, but I have to put my foot down this time.”

“Listen, Sal,” I said. “Maybe I’ve developed a bunch of cobwebs in my head, but I have no idea what your objection is to my being on this afternoon’s conference call.”

Sal sighed. “The last conference call you were on you apparently forgot that it was a Zoom call. You stood up, had no pants on, and had a boner.”

“Oh right,” I said. “I guess I blocked that memory.”


Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie First Line Friday, where the first line is, “Whatever you do, you can’t do that.” Also for these daily prompts: My Vivid Blog (sneaky), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (assist), Your Daily Word Prompt (leeway), The Daily Spur (comfort), Word of the Day Challenge (cobweb), and Ragtag Daily Prompt (conference).

#writephoto / #WDYS — Buried in the Mist

Detective Fred Morrisey, sitting across the interrogation room table from Melvin Frost, slapped down a photograph on the table.

Startled, Frost flinched, “What’s that?” he asked.

“Don’t play dumb,” Morrisey said. “You know very well what this is. This is a collection of human bones and they were hidden in the return air duct in your attic. So no games, Frost. Whose bones are these?”

“I don’t know whose bones they are,” Gross insisted. “I started finding them, I thought they were cool, and so I brought them back to my house.”

“You started finding them?” Morrisey asked. “Where did you allegedly find all of these bones?”

“There’s a natural, spring-fed pool deep in the woods,” Frost explained. “I was hiking back there and saw something sticking up out of the mist. When I got closer, I saw it was a bone. I fished it and a few more out of the water, put them in my backpack, and brought them back to my house. I went back there to the pool a handful of times and each time I went, I found a few more bones.”

“And you didn’t think to call the police when you kept finding human bones there?” Morrisey asked.

“None of my business how they got there,” Frost said. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I want you to take me to this pool of yours,” Morrisey said. “Let’s go.”

A few hours later, Morrisey, his partner, Detective Ron Hayden, and Melvin Frost in handcuffs, were hiking through the woods. Suddenly Frost stopped, pointed, and said “There, that’s where I found the goddam bones.”

Hayden ran over to the pool, stuck his hand into the cold, mist-covered water, and pulled out a human skull. “There are a lot more bones in here,” he called out. “It must be some sort of body dumping ground. This is really gruesome, Fred.”


Written for KL Caley’s #writephoto prompt. Photo credit: KL Caley. Also for Sadje’s What Do You See prompt. Photo credit: Sean Robertson @ Unsplash.

Friday Fictioneers — Table Service

“Table for four,” the man said to the hostess.

She smile and said, “Right this way.”

When they got to the table, he said to the hostess, “This table hasn’t been cleared or cleaned yet.”

“Take a seat and I’ll send the busboy over to remove these items and set the table up for you,” she assured him.

The man was not happy, but it was the only free table, so he and his family sat down. But after waiting five minutes, no busboy showed up. “Get up. We’re leaving and never coming back here.” He and his family left.

(100 words)


Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Image credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

The Big Lie

You may think his motives are noble, but he’s just regurgitating the same old Big Lie over and over again in his ill-conceived attempt to bring about a false sense of euphoria among his mostly brain dead supporters about his returning to office.

The whole foundation of the Big Lie is gnarly and quite rickety, and yet the majority of Republicans continue to polish his clearly rotten apple of an ego.

It’s truly beyond comprehension that so many have been duped by this madman.


Written for these daily prompts: The Daily Spur (noble), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (regurgitate), Ragtag Daily Prompt (euphoria), Word of the Day Challenge (gnarl), Your Daily Word Prompt (rickety), and My Vivid Blog (apple).