#writephoto — The Scarecrow, the Witch, and the Wizard

D3D2201B-77FD-47C4-AE2E-A2346009A9F9During the occasion of a full wolf moon, the scarecrow, the witch, and the wizard went out together for a late evening stroll, as the trio was wont to do on nights such as this. After several hours of walking and talking, the wizard mention that he had developed quite a thirst. The witch said that she remembered passing a tavern on the outskirts of town shortly after they began their stroll.

“Ah yes,” the scarecrow said. “I distinctly recall that place because there was a tall sign just outside of the tavern that contained within it a scarecrow’s hat. But despite the fact that the tavern is home to scarecrows, I’d be delighted if the two of you would join me there as my guests.

“I beg to differ with you, Scarecrow,” the witch said. That tavern is obviously home to a coven of witches, since the hat in the sign is clearly a witch’s hat. But despite that fact, it would be my honor to invite the two of you to join me there tonight.”

“Hold on just a second, my friends,” the wizard said. There is no question but that the hat inside the sign is that of a wizard. Be that as it may,” he continued, “I would be happy to serve as host to the two of you in that establishment.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, either of you,” the scarecrow said. “Anyone can plainly see that it’s a scarecrow’s hat.”

“Don’t be daft, Scarecrow,” the witch responded. “The hat a witch’s hat.”

“It is neither a scarecrow’s nor a witch’s hat,” the wizard interrupted. “It is, without a doubt, a wizard’s hat.

“There is only one way to find out for sure,” the scarecrow said. “We shall, the three of us, head over to the tavern, walk right in, and you’ll see soon enough that I was right. It’s a pub for scarecrows.”

“It is not,” said the witch and the wizard simultaneously. Each determined to prove the other two wrong, the companions locked arms and marched straight to the tavern. Upon reaching the tavern, they looked at the sign.

“See,” the scarecrow said. “A scarecrow’s hat.”

“See,” the witch said. “A witch’s hat.”

“See,” the wizard said. “A wizard’s hat.”

Once again, the three locked arms and, together, squeezed through the tavern doors and stepped inside.

All eyes of the patrons inside the tavern gazed upon the three who had just entered. There was dead silence as those already there and the three newcomers sized each other up. A tension filled the room and the atmosphere grew heavy.

There were no scarecrows, witches, or wizards among the patrons in the tavern. Instead, the customers were farmers and farmhands.

The awkward silence of the moment was finally broken when the bartender cheerfully called out from behind the bar. “Welcome to Ye Old Farmer’s Hat Tavern, folks,” he said. “Find any empty table and I’ll be right there to take your orders.”

Written for the Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent.

The Master’s Comps

4AAD9E61-4E8E-4067-A8C8-B2BD227DDD43.jpegDick had reserved a room in the math library for a full week so that he could study for his master’s comps. They were called “comps” because they were a series of four comprehensive essay exams of two hours each designed to confirm that the master’s degree candidate had, in fact, mastered the subject matter upon which his degree would be conferred.

He knew that he had to be tenacious about his studying, because he needed to pass the exams in order to be awarded his degree. He had worked too hard to allow his ultimate goal to be jeopardized by failing the comps. There was no way he would let anything diminish his drive to do well on them.

His week of intensive study paid off after he completed the first two exams. He just knew he had done a great job answering the questions that first day. Two down and two to go.

Feeling good, he decided to call his girlfriend and meet her at their favorite tavern, the one across the street from the industrial park, for a few beers. Then he’d head home, get a good night’s sleep and sail through the last two exams the next day.

Unfortunately for Dick, the “few” beers turned into “quite a few,” and before he knew it, he felt quite tipsy. His girlfriend was worried about him getting home on his own, so she convinced him to go over to her place and spend the night.

Dick woke up the next morning to the sound of sizzling bacon, and it smelled delicious. His girlfriend walked into the bedroom, kissed him on the cheek, and said, “Wake up, sleepyhead. Breakfast is ready.”

Dick opened his eyes, smiled at his girlfriend, and then looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. “Fuck! It’s 9:45. My exam started at 9:00.”

Written for these prompts: Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (comprehensive), Ragtag Daily Prompt (tenacious), Daily Addictions (diminish), Your Daily Word Prompt (industrial), Word of the Day Challenge (tipsy), and Scotts Daily Prompt (bacon).

Fruit Erotica

B9CBE741-B3C7-460D-89A7-E07654CAA8E4There was nothing appetizing in the refrigerator to eat when I got home from work that night. Nothing in the freezer either. So I decided to head over to my favorite local tavern for some dinner and a beer or two. It wasn’t that crowded when I got there, and as I looked around the bar, I took a seat next to a woman who seemed to be alone. “Do you mind if I sit here?” I asked, already having taken my seat on the bar stool.

“No, that’s fine,” she said, a pleasant smile on her face.

“What are you drinking?” I asked.

“An appletini,” she said.

“Mike,” I said to the bartender. “An appletini for my friend and a beer for me.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m Carol.”

I reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Carol. I’m Nick.”

Carol and I chatted for about half an hour, getting to know one another. Mike came over and asked us if we were okay on drinks. “Another round,” I said. Then I reached over the bar and pulled a maraschino cherry from a container with olives, cherries, lime and lemon slices, and onion slivers in it. Mike came back with the drinks, set them down in front of us, and gave me a knowing glance.

“I have a talent that I want to share with you,” I said. I pulled the long stem off the cherry. I took the cherry itself and gestured for her to open her mouth and placed the sweet, red cherry on her tongue. Then I held up the stem and placed it inside my mouth. Within a minute, I removed the stem from my and proudly displayed it to her. I had successfully tied it in a knot using nothing but my tongue.

“Impressive,” she said. “You know, I have a fruit talent, too.”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Show me.”

“Not here. Let’s go back to my place.”

I settled up with Mike and we left the tavern and walked, hand in hand, the three blocks to her apartment. When stepped into her flat, I tried to kiss her, but she pushed me away. “First I need to demonstrate my talent. Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”

Less than a minute later she came back into the living room and sat down next to me on the sofa. She had a large, yellow banana in her hand and a naughty smile on her face. “My fruit talent is my ability to carve a banana with my mouth.”

She slowly, sensuously peeled the banana down to the the last third. Then she stuck out her tongue and licked the banana. And when she put the entire exposed part of the banana in her mouth, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stood up and blurted out, “Marry me!”

And ever since that night, we have lived happily ever after, with me using my tongue on her cherry stem and her carving my banana with her mouth.

Written for today’s one-word prompt, “carve.”

SoCS — The Wingman

4F874038-F332-4568-85A6-16D0CDC66F2C“Hey man, you’re supposed to be my wingman.” Craig said to his best friend. “Instead, you’re cramping my style.”

Clearly disappointed by Craig’s assessment, Richard said, “Why would you say that, Craig? You know I wouldn’t deliberately cramp your style.”

“I don’t know, Rich,” Craig said. “Your head isn’t in the game tonight. Your timing is off. You’re flubbing your lines.”

“No worries, Craig,” Richard promised. “I got your back, man.”

Richard headed over to a corner of the tavern and waited for the magic to start. Within a few minutes, he saw Craig start up a conversation with an attractive brunette. Richard waited the designated three minutes and then headed over to where Craig and his new friend were talking.

“Hey Craig,” Richard said, “I thought I recognized you, buddy. Man, how long has it been?”

Craig mocked a surprised look. “Wow! Richard. When did you get back into town?” Craig gave Richard a man-hug. Then he turned to the brunette, who Richard saw was even more stunning up close than she appeared from across the room. “Where are my manners?” Craig asked. “Tammy, let me introduce you to Richard. He and I were best friends in high school.”

Richard reached out to shake hands with Tammy, but she moved in, pressed her body tightly against his and gave him a warm embrace. “Any friend of Craig’s…” she said.

Richard blushed and backed away a little. He knew it was his turn to say something, but he was flustered and couldn’t remember his next line.

“Oh, uh, so yeah,” Richard stammered, “Craig here was the man back in the day. He lettered in all the sports, got into the National Honor Society in his junior year, got elected to president of the student council, and was voted most likely to succeed in our senior class. He was the big man on campus.”

“That is impressive,” Tammy said. “What about you, Richard?” she asked. “What’s your story?”

“Richard hung out with me,” Craig said before Richard could respond. “I let him share my aura, you know. He was like my shadow.”

“I see,” Tammy said to Craig. Turning back to Richard, she asked, “Well, Richard, since it appears that you haven’t been shadowing Craig since high school, what do you do now?”

“Me? I’m a programming team leader over at Excelsior Automation,” Richard answered. “It’s not all that interesting, though, compared with my man Craig. He’s an actor.”

Tammy turned her attention back to Craig. “Have I seen you in anything?” she asked.

“I’ve done some commercial voiceovers and had a couple of small parts in a few indy flicks,” Craig answered. “I’m between gigs at the moment, but my agent is lining up a few things that look promising.”

Tammy looked at Craig, a strikingly handsome, charismatic young man who exuded confidence. Then she looked at Richard, who was pleasant enough looking but clearly uncomfortable.

“So you’re the wingman, right?” she said to Richard, whose face turned a deep red. She grabbed Richard by the arm and said, “Let’s get out of here, Richard. I think your friend Craig is cramping your style.”

Written for today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. The prompt is “cramp.” Image credit: Ian Francis.