Absolutely Gorgeous

It’s First Line Friday over at The MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie blog. This week’s first line is:

Lush melodies drew her to the door of the lounge, the friendly smiles enticed her inside.

Lush melodies drew her to the door of the lounge, the friendly smiles enticed her inside. That, and a sudden urge to use the restroom. It seemed to be happening a lot lately, this business of peeing several times an hour. Evidently her ol’ bladder just couldn’t hold it like it used to. Must be part of the ageing process, she figured, but at the tender age of 40?

“Ain’t That a Kick in the Head” was wafting through the smoky air as Celia walked through the doorway. She smiled a sad smile. Her grandmother had loved Dean Martin and Celia had loved her grandmother more than anything. She looked around for a “Ladies” sign but didn’t see one, so she stopped one of the smiling waitstaff and inquired as to the whereabouts of the restroom. Surprisingly, the server put her tray down and walked Celia right to the restroom door.

She thought about asking the kind woman if she could pee for her too, but thought better of it. Not everyone appreciated Celia’s warped sense of humor.

As long as she was in a cocktail lounge, and there was an absolutely gorgeous guy sitting alone at the bar Celia decided to have a drink.

She stood near the man but not too close and ordered a shot of Yeager and a Bud Light.

The bartender hesitated, glancing at Celia’s protruding stomach. “Uh, Ma’am, do you really think that’s good for the baby?”

Celia’s mouth fell open but she had trouble getting words to come out. “Wh-wh-what baby? What do you mean?”

The bartender’s face was a lovely shade of crimson by now, and she simply stared at the floor.

“You think I’m pregnant!?”

“I-I’m sorry…” she stammered.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Celia said in a low, raspy voice as she gave the girl a sly wink. “It’s just a beer gut.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The bartender looked skeptical but set about pouring the drinks.


Oh, my God. Could I be pregnant? It’s been about six months since I James and I…Aw,shit!”

The bartender placed two napkins in front of Celia and set the shot glass and bottle gently atop them.

Celia stared at them for a moment, shrugged, then downed the Yeager and chugged half the beer. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and turned to speak to the absolutely gorgeous guy, but he was gone.









‘Cigar Bar Evening Lounge’ by Brent Lynch


Champagne & Drive-Ins

For today’s prompt at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, we are to write a diary/journal entry. The entry can be from any point in the narrator’s life past, present, or future. If future tense and from our own perspective try to imagine where you would like to be. If we are writing from our own past try to write from your perspective at that time. If we are writing as a seven year old child it should read as if it was written by a seven year old child.

Dear Diary,

Tonight would be a very special night according to my mom. She said it would be a night that I’d always remember and never forget.

Tonight, I had my first legit date. His name is Robin and he is 16 with a driver’s license. He’s a nice guy and everything, but he’s super-skinny and has super short hair. The one I really like is his friend Russ. He is also 16 and is super cute. To die for cute! It was double-date so Russ took my friend Brenda, who is of course, better looking than me. I suppose that’s why Russ likes her. I wonder if Robin would rather be with Brenda too. Who cares because I don’t like him that much anyway.


Russ had a fake ID and bought some beer and champagne, Then they took us to a drive-in movie.


That night I learned something very important: do not drink champagne from the bottle. When I took a swig from the champagne bottle it fizzed up in my mouth and I couldn’t swallow. My only choice was to spew it out all over the windshield, which I did. Everyone laughed and I felt like an idiot. Robin wasn’t even mad. He must like me a lot.

Too bad.

That was our last date because Robin was a sloppy kisser.



SusanWritesPrecise/ Susan Marie Shuman

The Grand Jete

It’s Fandango’s Friday Flashback!  This story was originally written for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.

Once upon a time, there lived a giant named Frank whose left foot was bigger than his right. Of course, when he went to the Jaunty Giant Shoe Emporium, they wouldn’t allow him purchase two different sized shoes. Frank couldn’t afford two pair, so he had to make do with only one shoe that fit properly.

One day, as he was romping through the forest like a behemoth ballerina, Frank’s right shoe slipped off and went flying as he executed a Grand Jete.

Susan Marie Shuman/ SusanWritesPrecise

A Grand Jete dance.net


Eventually, the errant shoe landed— with no reported injuries— 50 miles away in the tiny hamlet of Runtsville. The name of the tiny enclave describes its residents to a tee. Anyway, a homeless Runtsville family could not believe their luck! Not only was their new home nearly brand new, but it came complete with shiny white shoe laces which lent a nice decorative touch.

They let the shoe air out for several days, installed a roof, built a front door and set up housekeeping.

As for Frank the Giant, he was picked up by the Big Boys Ballet Troupe and fitted for ballet slippers that fit both of his feet.

And he Grand Jeted awkwardly ever after.




SusanWritesPrecise/ Susan Marie Shuman

Necco Wafers & Porn

It’s Tale Weaver over at the MindloveMisery’s Menagerie. Today we have been asked to write about happiness (of all things!).

Happiness, eh?

This is a topic I know very little about. Googling it doesn’t help.

I’ve heard of it, of course. Some people I know have actually experienced it: the real deal. They are happy people.

I scratch my head.

They say they are happy at ‘their core.’ “Why?” I asked them, and they look at me like I’m crazy. Then I wanted to ask where my core was located, but decided against it.

Maybe I don’t have one.

So, I don’t know. Happiness has eluded me thus far. Although when I was a little kid I was happy and experienced happiness on a regular basis. But then I became aware of the not so nice side of life and realized it wasn’t all about sunshine & lollipops: there were Necco wafers and liver & onions that would occasionally rain on my parade.

The older I get, it seems, the more it rains Necco wafers and liver.

Anyway! To me, happiness is similar to porn in that it’s hard to describe, but you know it when you see it.




Susan WritesPrecise/Susan Marie Shuman

Blowing It

Today’s writing prompt at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie is the metaphor, “blowing one’s own horn.”

Derek was an average kid. He made Bs and Cs in school, maybe an occasional A if he was lucky. His parents, however, claimed he was a ‘gifted child.’ They fawned over him mercilessly. If he failed, it was someone else’s fault — the teacher or coach didn’t like him, or the other kid cheated. But if he excelled, Derek was the best there ever was and ever would be.

Eventually, Mom & dad’s mindset rubbed-off on Derek. He truly believed he was better than anyone, deserved recognition and adulation.

One day in band practice, Joey was having trouble with a tricky piece they were practicing. After a few fumbles,  Derek lost patience with his inadequate classmate.

“Mr. Bowen,” Derek piped-up in exasperation. “Why don’t you let me show Joey how it’s done.”

“Aw, geez.” There was a rumbling among the students. “There he goes tooting his own horn again…”

“It’s not a horn, dummies. It’s a saxophone!” Derek retorted. “And if I don’t toot it, who will?”