Short Story Saturday

They all died.


The end.









No, just kidding!


Brad panted as he stared up at the sky, wondering what had happened. One minute he’d been asleep in the side car, and the next? Catapulting ass end over teakettle through the air, as if he was a trapeze act. Without the trapeze, of course. Lucky for him, he landed in a nice, cushy pile of hay that was left over from the overturning of a hay truck the week before. Gingerly, he got up, circled a few times to ensure he was alright, then went running off, in search of Janet. Passing Riff Raff, who was still unconscious, he stopped for a moment, raised his leg against the man, then kept running, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
Feeling something warm and wet hit the left side of his head, Riff Raff opened his eyes and turned his head in that direction, just in time to see Brad’s hind end disappearing from view.
“Stupid dog” he thought, irritated. Turning his head to and fro, he felt no pain anywhere. Experimentally, he tried his arms. Yep. Pain. All down his left arm. Looking at it, he discovered his leathers were totally chewed, and he had some serious road rash. And something else, as well. “That looks like a bone” he thought dizzily. Hearing sirens in the distance, he decided the best thing he could do for himself is to lay still, until help arrived.
Janet also heard the sirens, as she swam back towards awareness. Another noise was the insistent barking of a dog. “Is that Brad?” she thought, struggling to open her eyes. Once she got them open, she located the noise. It was indeed, Brad, barking at a stranger whom seemed to be holding her head with both his hands.
“Don’t move” he instructed her. “But if you can, call your dog and settle him down?”
“Stop it Brad” she croaked. The barking stopped, and a whine ensued. Brad got as close to the stranger as he dared, then sat on his haunches, waiting.
“I’m Ev” reported the voice above her. “You’ve been in a motorcycle crash, it appears, and you need to remain as still as possible”.
“I understand” she said. “Where is Riff Raff?”
“Who, or what is a Riff Raff?” asked Ev.
“Uh. He’s my boyfriend” she said quietly. “He was on the bike, too”.
Before Ev could answer, the ambulance arrived, and then a second. Paramedics were soon swarming the site, along with firemen, whom busied themselves picking up the pieces of the motorcycle, disappointed that there was no fire to put out. Many of the workers stopped and greeted Ev, however. Soon enough, Riff Raff was located, and both the riders were placed in their respective ambulances. Ev found himself alone, with the exception of Brad, whom he had promised Janet he would take care of.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, buddy” he said.
“Woof” was the only answer he got.....

*******************************************


Janet tossed and turned, cursing the hospital beds. She’d been held for almost a full week now, and in that time, everyone had come to see her. Everyone except Riff Raff, that was. Even her mother had managed to fly out, to see if she was unharmed.
Her injuries were healing nicely, according to Ev, who’d turned out to be a doctor at the shit hole of a hospital she was taken to. She’d sustained a broken arm, pelvis, and a lacerated liver, but none of those things had required a surgical repair. Riff Raff, on the other hand, had had surgery on his arm, his left foot, and, a surgical debridement to get rid of all the gravel that was stuck in the road rash down his left side. It seemed the leathers he bought were really faux leather. He’d been trying to please his PETA supporting mother. Janet had had no such qualms, and therefore, had fared better. She’d heard he was doing well, but wondered why he had not come to see her. She was not able to walk as of yet, because of her broken pelvis. Frowning, she stared at the television, which was playing one of the never ending soap operas. Groaning, she shook her head, and turned away, to contemplate the ceiling.
“Are you having pain?” asked a concerned voice from the doorway. Turning, she saw Ev standing there, a bouquet of Gerber Daisy’s in his hand.
“No, just bored” she said. “Are those for me?”
“Yes, they are” he answered, and placed them in fresh water, and next to all the other flowers he’d brought her that week. When he was done, he sat down gently next to her on the bed, and they talked about various and sundry things that people talk about.
Meanwhile, Riff Raff painstakingly made his way down the hallway. It was the first time that any of those nurses (whom he thought of as nazi’s) let him walk any distance, and he was going to see Janet, regardless of the pain. She was all the way down a long, long hallway, and, after half an hour of struggling with his walker, and the pain of the scratchy hospital gown rubbing over his dressing, and his road rash, he made it. Leaning against the door, he tried to catch his breath. Only to look up and see Janet, deep in conversation with Ev. Surrounded by flowers. Flowers he didn’t send to her. His mind just could not take it. Slowly, he turned around. And instead of going back to his room, he left the hospital. And they never found him.

********************************************************

Three weeks later, the murders started. And each time someone was murdered, a gerber daisy was left behind.......

Friday Mieography

Going waaaaay back again for this one.
Bouduca. Boudicca, Boadicea, or Buddug, depending on where you are.
She was the Queen of the Iceni tribe of East Anglia. She has been described as tall, with red hair down to her hips, a harsh voice, and a piercing glare. Also as possissing a greater intelligence than often belongs to women. Married to Prasutagas, he died, and left his kingdom jointly to his daughters, and the Roman Empire. However, the Roman Empire did not recognise daughters as heirs, and so the kingdom was annexed as if it were conquered. Unfortunately, during this "conquering", the only ones conquered were Boadica, and her daughters. She was flogged, they were raped.
About AD 60, she struck back. She led many other clans in a revolt against the Roman Empire. They started by destroing Camulodrunum, (what is now Colchester, England). The Roman governor hurried to Londinium (London) but had to abandon it to Boadica and her tribe, as he did not have the numbers to defend it. They burnt it to the ground. After that, she and her tribes moved on to Verulamium. (Saint Albans). They also destroyed that town An estimated 70-80,000 were killed.
Meanwhile, the Roman governor regrouped his forces in the West Midlans, and she was eventually defeated. It is said that she went home, and took poison to avoid capture

warming a house

Leave it to the Europeans for coming up with the tradition of a house warming. The truth is though, that many cultures have their own variations of a house warming. The original items of a broom to "sweep away evil", and a "pinch" of salt at the entrance of each door to ward off evil and bring good luck, and a slice of bread so the new owners will never go hungry are more or less universal but depending on where you live, other items have their own significance when it comes to a house


warming.
For example, give the new home owners a candle so they will always have light, wine so they never go thirsty, olive oil to bring good health, honey so the couple's life will always be sweet and a plant which represents a long life. There's actually a poem - supposedly of Italian origin -- that speaks of several of these traditional items:
Bread so your larder will always be full
Salt to give it savour
Honey for a sweet life in your new home

Here's another version from Germany:

Bread so you'll never go hungry,
Salts so you'll have good luck
Wine so you'll never go thirsty

The whole bread-salt-honey as a house warming motif is linked with many countries. Speak to an Italian and they'll tell you Italy started the tradition of house warming. Talk to a Russian and they insist it was Russia who initiated gifts of bread and salt. Some people are convinced that the concept of "house warming" reflects when visitors brought hot coals or embers to a new house in order to keep it warm and hence the term. At this point in time who exactly stated these house warming trends is a moot point. The fact that the tradition is observed and respected is much more important.

The time has come.
In a few weeks, we are having our housewarming party. Giving people the chance to see where we are living. Very few people have wandered over here to check it out. Celtic Rose and her husband, Clancy, and one of his kids. A few of Mustang Girl's friends have been present, as well. Thats it, really.
So, house warming.
Should be interesting. Food, and MM's really debilitating Margarita's are to be had. We are having a "time capsule", which we have agreed not to open until we pay the house off. I am hoping that by that time, neither one of us is suffering from dementia. I have visions of the two of us sitting over this thing, one day, asking each other Who was that again? Where did all this crap come from?"
Any how. Any of you want to come?
I promise the margarita's are not to be missed....
consider this the official blogworld invitation!

Wordless Wednesday

WW has gone completely to the dogs...

aren't I cute! Now take the damn collar off!


please. may I have the collar off?


This is MY human.


Can't I come in, now?


Mocha has the most peculiar way of sitting


Cheese head


Miss Potter

apple, anyone?

I sit and think tonight, lots of thoughts.
Everywhere I have gone, any TV that I have watched over the last week or so, there is an underlying focus.
No, not the political one.
The much heralded, and, oft times dreaded return to school.
Mustang Girl has been a freshman since Wed. the 13th. (doing well so far).
A friend of mine took his first born to college this weekend. And actually left her there.
MM's sister took her firstborn to college as well. (Our future first female supreme court justice. Is that what she decided she wanted to be, sis?) And managed to leave her there.
New beginnings for all.

BUT.
this is what has my brain in motion tonight. Not a beginning. A continuation.
Mustang Man took his first step back into higher education.
A step he's wanted to take for awhile.
He now has homework. A back pack. Pencils, and paper in his backpack.
And I could not be happier for him. Or prouder. Having the desire to learn more, to branch out, to take that chance. He is, quite simply, awesome.
I don't talk a whole lot about MM here on the blog. I mention him, probably daily, I describe some of the stuff around us. I link over to his blog when he posts something. But I really don't talk ABOUT him.
Until now. (because I can, he isn't here to stop me ;))
There are so so so so so many things about him that I love. His gentle nature. His laugh. His VERY TWISTED sense of humor. His strong commitment to being the best parent that he possibly can be. His smarts. (and his smart ass comments). His 'laid backness'. It takes a lot to rile him up. But I wouldn't want to piss him off.
He is willing to try just about anything, with an open mind. He can sit and hold a conversation about anything, and not get mad. I can make him squirm just by discussing the future dating habits of MG. And it's cute.
He snores. Yes he does. And I can't sleep well now unless I have him snoring somewhere near me. Makes sleeping during the day a little awkward.
He is also extremely supportive of anything I want to do. Or anything Mustang Girl might want to try. (almost). Without a doubt, I know, if I happened to be in bind, he'd be there. Without hesitation.
So off he went last night, to start something new of his own. I plan on being his own, at home cheerleader for this event. To support him, help him as much as I possibly can, and watch, with glee, as he learns whatever it is he wants to learn. As he takes this as far as he wants to go. I will follow. What the future holds? Dunno. We could end up traveling together, as nurses. We could end up staying in Podunk. We could also end up in Greece, where he could fly airplanes for tourists and I can, well. Drink Ouzo and make Baklava. Whatever.
So. Mustang Man. Taking the school thing to a whole new level. Most excellent....

Scape dogs

I find myself disquieted about a decision that MM and I were forced to make this weekend.
I know, I have confessed to you all that we were crazy enough to get 3 puppies. So, in a sense, we may have been asking for it, many of you will think.
Puppies bark.
I can deal with it.
Honestly? I feel like most of the time, they are pretty good. They are learning whom they should and should not bark at. We were teaching them that neighbors, in their own yards, are NOT to be barked at. They are smart dogs, and were getting it.
But not fast enough.
Because, after talking with a series of our neighbors, it seems like every time a dog barks in our neighborhood (and there are NUMEROUS dogs)
ours are blamed.
Because we are new. Because they are new. And they are young.
I will admit, sometimes, it IS our dogs.
But many times, it isn' them. It ESPECIALLY isn't them when they are in the house. Especially at night or early morning when they are sleeping in the bathroom off the kitchen. But yet, they get the blame, every stinking time.
So, discussing it/
We spent the money, and got shock collars. And I feel bad. Each time one yips, or gets side ways mid stride to run, barking at the neighbor. I feel bad.
But as I mentioned, they are smart. They learned fast. They are hardly barking at all. And yesterday? I slept really good, without my dog concert.
Now if the NEIGHBORS dog would stop barking.

Short Story Saturday

****edit**** those of you wandering over from Davids, thanks! And if you go back one week, you will find the beginning of this story. And if you come back next week? Probably you will find the end of this story...

Riff Raff rolled over, squinting through the tent flaps into the sun. He and Janet had been on the road for three glorious weeks on the back of his old Harley.
The only dissatisfaction to his trip grunted and farted in his sleep.
Brad. Janet's mutt of a dog. A Puggle.
"Who the hell wanted one of these, I'll never know" thought Riff Raff, scowling at the dog. Lazily, Brad opened one eye, glaring back at the man with menace. His tongue lolling out of his mouth, he got up, circled four times, then laid back down, his back to the humans. Soon, the dog was snoring again.
Glancing over at Janet, Riff Raff sighed again. "How I am lucky enough to have lured her away I will never know he thought, seeing the morning sun slant off her abundance of red hair, highlighting the freckles that she had, well, everywhere on her body. He often thought of playing connect the dots with her freckles. The only thing that stopped him is that he wasn't sure where to start.
Perhaps feeling his eyes on her, she opened hers, a bright sea green, open to any and all possibilities. Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head, and grinned at the lustful look on his face.
"What time is it? Where are we going today? What's for breakfast?" she asked, getting out of her sleeping back and quickly getting dressed. Sniffing, she turned back to him. "Can we stop at a laundromat today? And find a place where I can shower? I need to wash my hair.
Laughing at her exuberance, Riff Raff got to his feet, and dressed himself.
"Its seven am, today, we are going to Colorado, we have beef jerky for breakfast. My sister lives in Boulder, and we can stop at her place for a shower, the laundry, and probably dinner. Are you satisfied?"
"I didn't know you had a sister" she said, surprised.
"Well, technically, she is my half sister" he amended. His father had never really moved on well after his mother had died, but he had tried, once, to have a relationship with a woman named Barbara Ann. That relationship had resulted in nothing good except his half sister, Judy. He saw her very rarely, but loved her none the less.
Hurredly, they took the tent down, ate their jerky, and Janet loaded Brad into the side car of the Harley. She'd had a special harness made for him that kept him from leaping out. She road on the back of the bike, with her arms around Riff Raff. Today, she was wearing her shirt that read "The Bitch" on the back of it. Riff Raff was wearing it's counter part, which read "If you can read this the bitch fell off". They'd gotten the shirts as they rode through Sturgis, South Dakota. They loved them.
The day was a glorious day for a bike ride, wide open blue skies greeted them, and, as it was a Sunday, the car traffic was not horribly bad, either. Janet entertained herself by studying all the plates of the cars that passed them, attempting to name a celebrity for every set of initials she found on them. Riff Raff simply enjoyed the open road, falling into the road rhythm that he seemed to fall into every time he was on the back of his bike. He had chosen to cross over into Wyoming, then down to Colorado, to his sister's home in Boulder. He hoped that Judy would be glad to see him. He had not called to ask.
Suddenly, from nowhere, the road began to sway and buckle beneath them. Riff Raff lost control of the bike, and then himself. He felt the heat of hot asphalt crawl up his arms and legs, and his last thought, before he lost conciousness was, surprisingly, not for Janet, but for Brad. Because the last thing he saw was the dog fly over his head.
Stunned, Janet lay on her back in the dry grass, staring up at the blue sky.
"What just happened?" she thought, confused. She felt a warm trickle slide down her left temple area, and put her hand up to see what it was. Bringing her hand in front of her face, she was surprised yet again to note the blood on it. Slowly, reality came back to her. Frantically, she tried to sit up, but two hands appeared, out of nowhere, pushing her back down.
"Stay put" a gruff voice commanded her. Meekly, she did as she was told.
"Riff Raff. Brad. The bike?"
"The bike is totalled" intoned the strange voice. Now you hold still"
"Yes sir" she answered, then passed out.