First Line Friday — The Funeral

530B9F2C-2B28-46F1-A265-5AE69916356FThe funeral went by in a waltz of shiny cars, black suits, and choreographed tears. The procession reached the cemetery and pulled forward to the burial location. As people got out of their cars and made their way to the gravesite, the family members and closest friends took the seats while the rest of those in attendance formed a large oval around the plot.

Hank, a friend of a friend of the daughter of the deceased, was standing in the row of people farthest from the grave. Without warning, he let out a long, loud, juicy fart. Everyone in the crowd, including the pastor in the middle of his sermon, turned to see who it was who do rudely disrupted the service. Once those standing near Hank got a whiff of his flatulence, they moved away from him, leaving him standing by himself, all eyes glaring at him.

Using every communication skill he possessed, Hank said, “Please accept my apology for disrupting this funeral service, but the sudden death my friend’s father has so traumatized me that I was experiencing a mosaic of emotions and I momentarily lost control of my bodily functions. I hope all of you will find it feasible to forgive me my trespasses and return your attention to paying homage to the deceased and his family.”

A mass rolling of eyes, clicking tongues, and a collective sigh preceded the resumption of the funeral service as Hank slowly slunk away from the cemetery.


Written for the First Line Friday prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, where the first line is, “The funeral went by in a waltz of shiny cars, black suits, and choreographed tears.” Also for these one-word prompts: Your Daily Word Prompt (farthest), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (disrupt), Word of the Day Challenge (whiff), Ragtag Daily Prompt (skull), Scotts Daily Prompt (mosaic), and Daily Addictions (feasible).

Sunday Writing Prompt — Fuhgeddaboudit

34DCC9D3-27D1-4D90-993B-561EA80AC8E1For this week’s Sunday Writing Prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, the challenge is to try something new. Like using a different medium for your creative expression, tackling a new and perhaps controversial topic, challenging one of your own fears and writing about the experience, or stepping outside of your comfort zone. You get the idea, right?

Well here’s what I have to say about that: fuhgeddaboudit. Why would I want to do that? I’ve challenged myself my entire life. Now it’s time to relax. I’ve earned it. Listen, I’m an old guy, a septuagenarian. I like things the way they are. And I’m actually quite comfortable in my comfort zone. I neither want to nor need to change.

Besides, I do challenge myself with my blog. I post between three and six times a day. I respond to word prompts, to photo prompts, to some of these crazy Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie prompts. I even host my own daily word prompt.

I regularly post my thoughts, observations, and perspectives on what is going on around me. I read what other bloggers have to say and often comment on their posts. I respond to comments that others have made on my posts.

And I also have other activities of daily living that I have to manage, ranging from walking the dog multiple times a day to chores around the house to keeping my wife happy to paying the bills and to reading books and watching TV.

Seriously, the last thing I need right now is to take on any new challenges. This old dog doesn’t want to learn new tricks.

Tale Weaver — Dance With Me Henry

129D7F7D-6AE2-4802-B92E-DAC897106666“Henry, the romance has gone out of our lives,” Mildred said. “We need to do something to spice things up, don’t you agree?”

Henry, sitting in his easy chair, didn’t look up from the newspaper he was reading.

“Henry, did you hear what I said? Henry?”

“Yes, dear,” Henry absently responded.

“What did I say?” Mildred asked.

Henry put down the newspaper and shot his wife an irritated glance. “You need me to pick up some spices at the grocery store.”

“No, Henry, that’s not even close to what I said.”

Henry could sense that his wife of 35 years was on the verge of tears. “You’re right, sweetheart, I wasn’t listening.” He stood up and walked over to the sofa and sat down next to her. He grabbed her hand and, in as earnest a voice as he could muster, said, “Tell me again what you said.”

“I want us to take ballroom dancing lessons,” Mildred announced. “It will be so much fun. It will be just the spark we need to get some romance back into our marriage.”

“But Mildred, my love,” Henry said, “you know I can’t dance. I have no rhythm and I am afflicted with two left feet.”

“That’s not true, Henry,” Mildred said. “We used to go out dancing a lot back in the day.”

“Yeah,” admitted Henry, “back in the day when everyone did the Twist or the Mashed Potato. That wasn’t dancing, that was gyrating.”

“Oh please won’t you dance with me, Henry?” Mildred implored, with a hint of a twinkle in her eye.

“Okay, dear,” Henry said, “if that’s what you want, sign me up.” He kissed Mildred on her cheek, got up, returned to his easy chair, picked up his newspaper, and hoped that she’d forget about the dance lessons before the day was out.


Written for this week’s Tale Weaver prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. The challenge is to weave a tale that features dance.

First Line Friday — Simply Irresistible

089C65C1-924C-4365-86D6-8DA952D9AD1CCass was a nightmare in white silk and pearls. She looked absolutely stunning in the golden glow of the lantern. There was little doubt in Cass’ mind that she could make most men’s hearts soar.

James knew that, despite how impressionable he could sometimes be, he couldn’t let himself slide down her rabbit hole. He, of all people, understood how easily she could, like the spider and the fly, lure men into her toxic web of deceit and destruction. He had to maintain some sort of separation between what he was seeing and what he was feeling.

And yet, despite realizing what would likely happen should he let her get under his skin, he, like the proverbial moth drawn to her flame, would, yet again, get consumed by her. He understood that it was his destiny to succumb to her irresistibility.


Written for today’s Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie First Line Friday prompt. Also for the following one-word prompts: Your Daily Word Prompt (lantern), Daily Addictions (soar), Word of the Day Challenge (impressionable), Ragtag Daily Prompt (slide), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (toxic), and Scotts Daily Prompt (separation).

Tale Weaver — Genius or Idiot?

B6D26D41-911E-4D97-A338-FA419FF4705AThis week the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt asks us to “consider the notion of what constitutes a genius and how different are they from a person who might be considered an idiot.”

What immediately came to mind to me was how Donald Trump calls himself a “stable genius” when, in fact, he is neither stable nor a genius. What he actually is is a delusional, unhinged idiot.

So in Donald Trump’s case, what are sometimes thought to be polar opposites — genius and idiot — are both rolled up into one man.

Wait! I take that back. There’s no genius involved. Trump is a combination of con man and idiot.

Need I say more?