by Dani J Caile
manly in the downstairs department? What? What was it? What went wrong, huh,
Tracy?"
"Well…?"
"Lousy kisser?"
"No, I think it was when he wrapped duct tape around my mouth, tied me up and
threw me the trunk of his car, drove me to some desolate hut in the middle of the
woods and left me there to rot for six months."
"Oh, right." Brigitte went back to her pocket mirror and practised smiling.
"I think that was the clincher, really."
"Well, no one’s perfect."
Weekend Quickie 32 - Each to their own
(image - bakery, element - coconut cake for Easter, emotion - inspired devotion)
He'd destroyed both morning batches of hot cross buns, upset his regular customers with unrepeatable remarks about Jesus, and also kicked out a wedge from their skip's wheels, allowing it to roll across the backyard and dent his van. This Darren had to go. If it wasn't for the fact he was marrying his daughter.
"I'm...I'm sorry, Dad."
"Dad? Dad! You ain't my Dad yet! It's 'boss' to you!"
"I've...I've made you a cake."
"Really?"
Darren put the cake down and cut out a slice, handing it to him. Cautiously, he took a bite and spat it out.
"What the hell is that?"
"It's...it's a coconut cake for Easter."
"Who the hell makes a coconut cake for Easter?"
"I do. My family does, it's an Easter tradition."
"What are you trying to do, poison me? I'm allergic to coconut!"
"What? Sorry, Dad...boss, I didn't..."
He stood up and grabbed his daughter's horsewhip she'd left on the table after her last visit to the bakery.
"What are you doing with that, Dad...boss?"
"You know, I feel I've just received 'inspired devotion'."
"Sorry, Dad? I mean, boss?"
"Us El Salvadorians also have our own Easter traditions!" He chased Darren out the back.
62 - Draughts on a Sunday afternoon with ol' Captain Joe Blues Eyes
(bunsen burner, ski lodge, cactus, bikini)
"The first time our eyes met was over a bunsen burner in the 12th grade Chemistry class. Well, 'meet' would be difficult. For all her homely blossoming beauty and her simple country charms, her left eye always went a little awry, and even more so when she ate or drank a hot drink. But when I saw her in that bikini in the summer down at the lake with her family, my heart…my heart was lost."
"Is this gonna be a long story? I'm only in 'ere for another twenty five years, if I can get out on good behaviour."
"Are you done?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Go on."
"It took me a while to convince her that I was the knight in shining armour she'd been looking for, but after kidnapping her best friends over the next weekend and torturing them to tell me her favourite hobbies and pastimes, and then of course leaving their bodies to rot in some desolate hut in the middle of the forest, I was ready to win her over. Fifty seven different types of cacti later, including a rare lava cactus I'd purchased on ebay for an extortionate price and she was mine. That was the one that clinched it. Plus the promise of a skiing holiday at the Engelberg Ski Lodge in the Alps next year. A very popular and exclusive place indeed. She was all over me. Loves skiing. I hate it, though I guess I'd better get some lessons."
"Skiing's great."
"Did I ask you?"
"No. Sorry."
"Can I continue?"
"Yeah, sure, sorry."
"Right. Where was I?"
"Skiing lessons?"
"Ah, yes, well, I only reached first base by the second week but when the local news got hold of the story about the disappearance of her friends, I was there to comfort her and pick up the spoils…"
"Hey, hey! Now you're talking!"
"Oi! This isn't some erotic daydream, you smuck!"
"I'm not Jewish."
"Never said you were. Anyway…"
"I'm Roman Catholic."
"Figures. The thing was…the thing was…"
"What was the thing?"
"Shut up! I'm getting to it!"
"Right. Sorry."
"The thing was, I'd left a jumper in the hut in the forest. You know, it gets a bit hot when you're torturing and all…"
"Yeah, don’t it just."
"…and I'd taken this jumper off and left it on the floor next to the door. I didn't remember it at first but when the authorities started searching and clips of the forest appeared on television, it all came back to me."
"The jumper."
"Yes, the jumper. Man, did I sweat."
…
"So?"
"So what?"
"The jumper?"
"Ah, it was one of those Canadian lumberjack type pullovers, all red and black squares, nice and warm, good for the cold seasons. It was a wonderful jumper, I really missed it."
"Nah, did they find the jumper?"
"What do you think I'm doing in here? Popped in for a bit of draughts on a Sunday afternoon with ol' Captain Joe Blues Eyes in Block G?"
Brian's Birthday Challenge - Jello!
(50 words - heart-throb, airport pat down, Whitesnake lyrics)
"…There is trouble always coming my way..." Brian watched the over-sized 52-46-54 200lb Audrey Hepburn lookalike airport security guard walking over.
"We've got a right one 'ere, Madge!" shouted the guy doing Brian's pat down.
This would be the last TIW Conference Biran would set up....or maybe not...'Madge' had jello...
Weekend Quickie 33 - Return to Oz
(image - tornado, element - the far away sound of someone singing, emotion - denial)
By the time he'd run across the fields and into the yard, making the chickens scatter and squark, the tornado was but a few kilometers away and gaining.
"Aunty! Aunty! Tornado's a'coming!" Willy swung open the door of the farmhouse to see his Aunt smiling up at him from her favourite comfy armchair. "The Tornado's here, Aunty! We gotta get down in the cellar!"
He pulled on his Aunt Dorothy's woolly cardigan but she didn't budge.
"Damn and tarnation, Willy! Me and Toto, we been waiting for this one for a long time." The dotty old woman patted the head of her long-departed stuffed dog sitting beside her patiently. "See? I've got me ruby red slippers ready." She tapped them together, two worn out shoes that she'd somehow squeezed onto her old puffed up little feet.
"But Aunty! The tornado's coming! We gotta get ta safety!"
"Safety? What you riling about, Willy? We're goin' back to Oz, aren't we Toto?"
Her last pat knocked the dust-filled mutt over. Willy tried to grab her again but she held up her hands, listening to something far away.
"Oh, can you hear that, Willy? I can hear them, the Munchkins are singing."
"Aunty!"
63 - Creep
(cave etchings, wooden club, fur, best/worst pick up line ever)
"What's a good looking girl like you doing in a place like this?"
"Jesus, hell! What the...?" Sheila quickly pulled up her skirt and tights and ran out of the toilet cubicle, holding onto the sink for dear life. "What the hell are you doing in here? This is the women's!"
The man's head, which had popped out of the toilet seat so suddenly, slowly sunk back down, only to reappear as if by magic from the water tank a few moments later.
"Can you keep a secret? I'm a spy on a dangerous mission. I need your help."
"Mission or not, you definitely need some help! If you don't get out of here right now, I'm gonna call for the management!"
The man looked sad as he vanished once again, with his hand pulling on the flush chain. Sheila wondered whether she'd had too much to drink in the bar. This couldn't be happening. Her urge to go had disappeared as quickly as the man.
When she got back to her stool and saw that her glass was empty, that same head came into view, sliding across her sight.
> "What the...! You again?"
"Hello. Sorry, but do I know you? You look very familiar."
"What do you want, creep?"
"Fancy a drink, darling?"
"Why the hell do you think I'm sitting in this bar?" The head slid back from whence it came. She looked around to check whether it was only her, and everything was as before, people chatting, some dancing, groups of friends having a good time. It was only her. She needed another drink and tried to get the attention of the barman who was nowhere to be seen. The man, this time cleaning a glass and dressed as a waiter, popped up from behind the bar, smiling.
"Hello. Would you like to come up to my place and see my cave etchings?"
"What? How...? Do you work here?"
"My! Is that a wooden club in my pocket or am I pleased to see you?"
"Yuck! Jesus, guy! Lay off me, will ya!"
He leaned even closer and wiggled his eyebrows.
"If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
"Who the hell do you think you are? Manager! Manager! I demand to speak to the manager!"
The man submerged below the bar, still cleaning the glass.
"Where the hell is the manager?"
A man in a fancy black suit and tie walked up to her through the crowd, suave, extraordinaire. The light hit his face...it was the same man.
"What is going on here?" shouted Sheila.
"You know, I'd climb the highest mountain for you, swim the widest ocean, wrestle the strongest bear. I'd rip the fur off its back and make you a coat to be proud of."
Sheila didn't know whether to cry or scream. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, her mouth trembled as the words escaped her lips.
"Does that come with jello?"
The Goatee of Neal (Impromu Relay)
(Based on Neal Sayatovich’s green dyed beard)
Co-written: Mathew W. Weaver
Dani J Caile
Neal loved his pet beard. It was the most loyal and warm of all his clumps of facial hair, and on cold wet morning walks it would save its master's chin from the perils of the northern winds.
Mathew W. Weaver
The relationship Neal shared with his goatee went beyond that of mere man and beard. It was a bond of unity, of brotherhood, of love beyond measure.
But neither could have seen how this bond was to be put to the test, when that fateful morning, Neal looked into the mirror to see the newly growing sproutlings of a pair of sideburns.
Dani J Caile
And there the dilemma began, a rivalry never seen before on the face of Neal. At first the sideburns were mere ornaments, emphasizing the manly contours of his broad face, but then they grew, unabated until they too became a major feature on Neal's facebook profile picture.
Mathew W. Weaver
Goatee began to feel it was being left out. All the facebook selfies Neal took now displayed the unabashed glory of those chunky sideburns... and yet never failed to heartlessly crop out the lower half of Goatee's dwindling majesty.
Dani J Caile
For a while, all was calm, one existing without the other, each reigning over their own territories of their master's domain, basking in their own prickily existence, until that one fateful day when their hairs intwined...
Mathew W. Weaver
...the day when Neal, while stroking Goatee, reached up and began to stroke The Sideburns as well. To Goatee, the abandonment was raw, undefinable. That its strokes were being usurped by stubble of much lower birth....
Dani J Caile
...and higher altitude. Goatee had no other choice but to summon the help of his dear old friend and patriot, Comb, to suppress and push down The Sideburns' audacity!
Mathew W. Weaver
But Comb, though literally a lifelong friend to Goatee, would not take its side. As despair, dismay and hurt grew, Goatee began to lose weight. It would wake up every morning feeling more brittle than the day before, and grew paler as the days passed.
Dani J Caile
It wasn't long before Goatee, once filled with life and vigor hitherto seen upon Neal's face, lost all hope and sadly turned into the bedraggled green mass of facial bristles that can now be witnessed on facebook.
Mathew W. Weaver
Remorse overcame The Sideburns. They never meant for Goatee to lose its lustre, shed its shine, turn into the patch of fungus that it resembled now. For the sake of Goatee, their stricken brethren, they decided to let go of life, to moult away and leave Neal's cheeks as soft and as baby's bottom smooth as they had been before the troubles began.
Weekend Quickie 34 - Just to see my face
(image - screaming couple with screaming baby, element - a tip from a waitress, emotion - distraction)
The other customers seemed a little distracted, even 'off' with me but I didn't care, I was glad to be there. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant was heaven compared to the chaos in the house, what with our new baby screaming 24/7 and the wife crying and pulling out her hair with worry. Stomach pains, that's what the doctor said. Happens to almost all babies nowadays. Great. But what about our pain? Neither of us had slept properly in weeks. I got lucky, had a business call and was able to pop out for this meeting. But that went pretty quick, too quick, in fact, like I was some leper or something. The guy took what he needed and left me with a plate-load of food. When the waitress came over she was a little too cocky, like she knew something.
"Here's your bill, sir," she smirked.
"Thanks." For that I left her less than the stipulated tip, which took that grin off her face.
"Why, thank you, sir, most generous."
"Anytime."
"You wanna tip, sir?"
"Sorry?"
"Next time, sir, check that suit doesn't have baby puke on the shoulder and a dirty nappy hanging from the pocket."
64 (Annual Final) - Two my few chair auld err shelf
(pet fairy, Acquired savant syndrome, letter to future self, as many homonyms as possible - extras - 1 element from each Preliminary Round and Open Final - incubus (incubi), kitchen apron, rhinestone tiara, victim, glass house, bagpipes, Atlantis, balloon animals)
Deer auld err shelf,
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Hat dish mow meant, eye yam un ehh bell two right buy my own hand, eye yam act chew all Lee Dick dating dish let err two my own purse urn all pet ferry, who, ash eye have now orb served, Khan knot spell four sheet. Butt sea inn ash his favourite pass thyme is play inn Han inn stew meant witch resend bells Dee bag pipes inn sow end hand that he all wheys where's ehh stew pit Luke inn Kit shin ehh prawn with Dee werds "eye yam cleave fir" writ ten on Dee front hand ehh rhinestone tea are err on his head that he sir wears blind awe ridge inn ate id from Dee sub urged sit tea of Atlantis, eye think that dish is Dee leased of his war Reese.
Aft her living ehh shore ter wile with inn dish hex tend id vee ewe of Dee were auld, eye fee eel eye Khan knot go on. It is knot ahh pleasure twit Ness these fen Omm miner, it is err curse. Eye yam trapped inn sighed err glass how sir, err Vic Tim of fet
e, of sir come stances bee yawned my con troll. My vee ewe of reality has bean Shatnered hand eye can know longer go on dish whey. Eye must rei verse Dee stayed us eye find my shelf inn buy rei peet inn Dee pro sess witch brought mi two dish fire rei Hell. Eye yam sore rei.
Pea lease bee shore two sir round yaw bed with salt bee four go inn two sleep. Hand all wheys put yaw pants on back two front.
Yaws sin seer Lee,
Me (ewe)
The Rotation (Impromtu relay)
(Based on Jordan Bell’s habit of rotating his Facebook profile pictures)
Co-written: Mathew W. Weaver with a guest appearance from Jordan Bell
[All in a Deep Orson Welles voice]
Dani J Caile
The Rotation was on. They wouldn't have a hope in hell chance of finding him now. They'd be as confused as a pig in a sweetshop. The red flare effect portrait had almost taken them off his scent but now he'd upped the stakes...cap with mug.
Mathew W. Weaver
The beard was shortened too; the mass of dense twisted growth shortened to the consistency of prickly hairbrush, the kind you always found yourself landing on when you fall on the couch. It was perfect. Or was it?
Dani J Caile
Would they see through his disguise? Would they entrap him as they had done once before, a victim of their excruciating mind control behind his mirrored glasses...
Mathew W. Weaver
No. Not by a long shot. He wouldn't let 'em take him again. Never again, he had sworn... but now, as he hunkered down in the booth, peering over his coffee mug, the bill of his baseball cap covering his eyes, he could see them, one at the bar and another by the door
Dani J Caile
In the time it took to eat his twinkie and down his coffee, they had swooped over him, each taking a shoulder and leaning into his own personal deodorant space, squeezing him deeper into the booth.
Mathew W. Weaver
"Hey, buddy," one whispered in his ear, shoving something hard in his side, "Long time no see." The other grinned, and patted the suspicious bulge under his coat.
Jordan Bell