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The BOMB

Welcome to the BOMB.



The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

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My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my ten year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Sunday, May 8, 2016

Tickin'

I saw the flash fiction contest late last night and came up with the bones of a story but got sleepy before I could whittle it down to the 100-word limit.  So rather than waste the story I decided to toss it on the blog just as a  practice story.  The rules stated the following words had to be in the story (they can be part of larger words , but the letters must remain in order:  may, whee, play, brie and quick).  Since it didn't make it into the Flash Fiction Contest, I'm calling this my Slow Story Psuedo Submission.  The tittle is included in the word count and not needed for the submission, so I never title the submissions when I get them in on time. I'm calling it......

Tickin'

"Power Ball. Quick Pick," grunted the octogenarian placing a two dollar bill on the counter. 

"Hey Silas." The clerk sing-songed the salutation in two syllables as she checked the bill for authenticity. "I didn't think ya played." 

"Don't.  Feelin' lucky. First day of the rest of my life an all." Seeing Sally's blank look he tried again. "I'm like a Timex--I take a lickin'  an' keep on tickin.'"  Nada. "I got sprung from the hospital. Had my ticker battery replaced." 

Sally reacted, but not to his news, "Oo-whee, Mr. Silas!  It just shocked me. It's the winning ticket! See!"  

The static electricity jolted him as their hands brushed during the transaction. 

"Tell ya what Sally, if you just sold me the winning ticket, I'll send you on a vacation to anywhere you wanna go--where'll it be?" Folding the ticket in half, Silas tucked it into the chest pocket of his chambray shirt, double tapped the snap shut, and kissed his grease stained fingertips. 

Without hesitation Sally said, "I wanna take my Mama on an Alaskan Cruise."

"Alaska it is Sally." Reaching into his front jeans pocket he pulled out a five and said, "Danged heartburn, keeps coming back. Give me whatever anti acid you got."  

***
Just before the 10 o'clock news Silas sat down to eat his bedtime snack.  He poured  a bowl of Grapenuts cereal and added milk out of habit. His stomach remained acidic and he starred at it blankly. He pushed the unbeaten bowl aside when the live Lottery drawing filled the TV screen. Is it my imagination, or is the drawing more exciting tonight? 

"Five.....one...." the girls voice announcing the first two numbers broke into his musings. 

The gnawing burn intensified as he realized his first two numbers were May Day.  Five-one, isn't that what she just said? He fumbled with the snap in his pocket. One more and he'd win his ticket price back. Hurry up girl! I'm sweating like a pig! 

"Nineteen."  

Nope. But there's still three more numbers--wait--I need to get my eyes checked--there it is--nineteen.

"Fifty-six."  

Hot diggity!  Four numbers!  I'm winning something. Maybe a thousand. Just wish I could belch. He tried to force a belch but came up silent. 

"Thirty-three."  

Oh, man!  I can't breath. I've never had five numbers before! "Come on twenty-eight. Come on twenty-eight." 

"And the final number in tonight's 415-million dollar Power Ball drawing is...."

"Please be 28." Silas breathed with his eyes shut. 

"...twenty-eight!"

Mid-victory jig the pressure in his chest exploded like Fourth of July fireworks and the winning ticket fluttered to the floor. Sally and her Mama will have to wait on Alaska. "Wonder if I'm the briefest multimillionaire in the history of the lot..."

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