She Liked To Ride On Top

What feels good for one person might not for another, but bouncing up and down, and grinding her hips was her thing and who was I to complain, as I always enjoyed the view.  She knew just how to kneel on the sheets with her legs spread wide (OK sorry for crossing the line, being way too graphic) and combine these different sensations to drive me wild.  I wrote about this girl before in an earlier post ‘To Die For’, just in case anyone wants to read about that night when we first met.  We were dating, she told me all about her sexual past experiences and although she once spent a week in the back of a van with five guys, it didn’t bother me as now she was mine.  It is not every man that is willing to date a girl who has been ridden hard and been around the block more than a few times, but her promiscuous past didn’t really bother me, and I was not one to pass up a sure thing.

Most of the other guys that she was with considered her sexual past to be an atrocity and they used her for a one night stand or a hook up and then they always ditched her after they had their way with her.  I knew that Jenny was loose, but that is what I liked about her and I was not a virgin either, as I had some experiences of my own.  Jenny took the initiative and she willingly told me about her sexual history, this meant that she trusted me and I felt like Jenny saw something special in me.  Jenny had regrets about her past and there was no reason for me to punish her.  The absence of a sexually fulfilling life is one of the most abiding impressions that a young man can have and many times this is how I felt before I met Jenny.  I felt this comfort being around her and I liked her being my girlfriend, but I wasn’t exactly in love with her.  We did things together and we had fun all the time.

One day I took Jenny to meet my Dad who was out in the backyard and although he was calescent with her, I could tell that he was not impressed with her.  My Dad asked Jenny if she would like a drink and she said, “Do you have bourbon?”  My Dad said, “It is only 10 in the morning and you have the rest of the day for that partying stuff that you and my son do, right now I am on one of my coffee curfews, but I could have my wife put the tea kettle on if you drink that.”  Jenny said, “The temperature is rather warm today, so I would prefer a cold soda.”  My Dad said that it was warm and that we should go on the back porch to relax where he would open up the window, so we could all catch a breeze and then he told me to go and grab some sodas.  We were having a casual conversation when my Dad made a remark about Jenny wearing jeans that looked to be too tight, which she took as a criticism and she made a loud paroxysm in response and then we left.  She said that she never wanted to see my Dad again, as she thought he was cruel, but I figured that things might heal over time.

One day she said that she wanted us to go visit her friends and that we could sleep over their house.  I told her that I was fine with that and said it sounded like a real thrill, as I would not have to pay for a motel room.  I had never met any of her friends before and I was going to do this with excitement, anticipation, energy and zest.  They seemed to be an OK couple, but when the evening was over, Jenny and I retired to the bedroom they said was for us, she said that her girlfriend Donna wanted her to join her and her husband Bob in their bedroom for a threesome.  I did a WTF and slapped my hand on my forehead, as I didn’t want to have any part of these sexcapades.  Jenny told me that after Bob was satisfied, that both her and Donna would come back and take care of me.  I became dizzy and I started to sweat, the sheets were damp and I got up and got dressed and told her that she could stay here with Donna and Bob, or else she could go with me.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt Week #32 – Atrocity, for FOWC with Fandango – Love, for August Writing Prompts – Coffee curfews, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Porch, for Ragtag Community – Zest, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Initiative, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #154 (5) word prompt – Night Line Heal Thrill Time, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Abiding and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Bonus Wordle Sick day – Calescent Sheets Paroxysm Temperature Tea Kettle Window Breeze Kneel Forehead Dizzy Damp Comfort.

 

Monday, Best Day for Challenging the Epic Writer

Death dangled in the air for me today as I saw two prompts that I just could not pass up.  I wrote about a Procol Harum song and then I wrote a story about a cat and now I have 29 (wait since I started out with a prompt) I only have 28 prompts left to try and tackle.  This happens a lot on Mondays, as the MM Wordle challenge contains 12 prompt words and Tyler Deal and the secret keeper each have 5 word prompts and you would think that 22 prompts would be enough for anybody, but today I wanted the whole ball of wax, the whole enchilada, the whole kit-and-caboodle, the whole nine yards, the whole shebang, everything but the kitchen sink, the full monty, hook, line and sinker and lock, stock, and barrel.  I got some help with the whole ball of wax from my friend Fandango who I actually mentioned in my first post today My Blind Date, the Procol Harum post where I said something about getting the title being the part that allows all the other pieces of the puzzle to fit together in writing.  I also got some help from RayNotBradburry, as she gave me the title of this post and then I wrote the story about my cat in a post called The Chinese Rabbit.

I am comfortable working with multi-prompts and I look forward to handling this post with eloquence and style, by not forcing any of the prompts into this story, which at the moment I have no idea what it is going to be about.  As I browse over the prompts, I sort them out in my mind figuring which ones won’t clash with the others.  Most of the words seem simple enough today, but there are a few that I need to review to see if I have to perform a Google search to check their exact meaning.  I am kind of on a streak right now and it seems to me that my posts just keep on getting better, but things could turn against me and I might never be able to write a sentence that uses the word scrimshank, thus shirking what I perceive to be my duty and avoiding an obligation that I have to my readers.

So far so good 8 prompts bit the dust and only 20 are left for me to cover.  I am pretty sure that I will figure out what this post is about before I finish writing it.  It is not going to be a poem, although I am pretty sure that larder does rhyme with martyr, but so do a lot of other words like charter, garter, starter, tarter and maybe even farter, if there is such a word, and conducting myself with candor, I imagine that would depict the one who just did blast a fart, after all it would be ridiculous to blame the fish.  Rotten potatoes are known to smell foul, but I don’t think that the smell would ever produce torporific results, however I would avoid smelling them.

7 more prompts taken care of, leaving me still with 13 and none of them are negligible.  Maybe this post should be about counting, nah that sucks, but it would really be great if quarry rhymed with trolley, as that would be a real feather in my cap.  I enjoy writing, but sometimes I wonder why I write posts at all.  I don’t want to malign anyone, but sometimes I get these stalker bot bloggers (a word coined by Jina S. Bazzar) who will LIKE 5 of my posts in a one minute time period, thus since nobody is capable of reading at such a speed, I know that they did not read any of them.  If people don’t want to read my posts, then they have no business liking them.  These bloggers are merely a farce with no original thoughts of their own and I hope that I never have one of them as a cellmate as they will rue the day.

Just four prompts left, which I have no idea what to do with.  Creative writing prompts are made to inspire writers to be resourceful, but as I look at these four remaining words, I have absolutely nothing and I don’t think that if I start panting that would help.  The history of literature is filled with authors who understand that writing a story is an operation where procedures must be followed in order to get results that will attract readers.  Telling a story is a lot like painting a picture, as it must be finished and I love the way that Edgar Allen Poe story about the raven ends with the bird still sitting above his chamber door.  It is probably time for me to stop writing now and go check to see if I got any mail today.

Written for Tyler M Deal 5 Words Prompt – Cap Speed Fish Blast Farce, for Daily Addictions prompt Week #30 – Rue, for FOWC with Fandango – Comfortable, for July Writing Prompts – Death dangled, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Eloquence, for Ragtag Community – Quarry, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Trolley, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #152 (5) word prompt – Streak Clash Perform Browse Raven, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Candor and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #205 – Potatoes Scrimshank Malign Review Operation Larder Cellmate Mail Torporific Negligible Panting Martyr.

Denied a Proper Burial

The deceased preta kept wandering as he was a disturbed ghost who could not find rest, his spirit was destined to roam on dark and stormy nights, because others thought he was not fit to be buried.  The soul of this dead being shows gratitude to the person who as an act of charity, arranged for the burial of his dishonored corpse.  His soul could now return to the creator, and he would no longer have to stand on the edge of eternal darkness.  His grateful chant would fill the void in order that others may know that in the land of the night, the ship of the sun is drawn by the grateful dead.

The ancient Greek Cynic philosopher Diogenes of Sinope an Ionian colony on the Black Sea was extreme in a lot of ways, as he lived a very poor and ascetic life, and his residence consisted of a tub and his only possession was a wooden bowl that he used to drink water from.  He felt that people should not be embarrassed to do private things in public, and he was often seen defecating and masturbating in the open where others could watch.  Diogenes told his friends that when he died, he didn’t want to be buried.  He wanted his body thrown over the city wall, where it could be devoured by animals.  My grandmother has similar feelings about funerals and burials, as she thought they were too expensive and she always said that when she died, that all she wanted was for her body to be wrapped up in a burlap bag and then kicked down the sewer.

A dead body is nothing more than an empty container, it doesn’t need to be embalmed, or dressed up in fancy clothes, or be put on some mournful display, or have its remnants placed in an urn up on the mantle.  Caring for the dead is part of being human, as we learned that rotting bodies have a bad odor when they are decomposing thus making them unsanitary, so we put them underground.  Humans have decided that lives matter, and they should be remembered and holding a funeral is a way to help a dead person to pass into the next world.  The deceased are buried out of a need to keep them protected from any interference of scavengers or animals who might desire to eat our loved ones.  An old custom involved placing pennies of the eyes of a dead person to be used as the payment to Charon, the ferryman of the underworld, to ferry the deceased across the River Styx, to their destination in the underworld.

History is full of riches-to-rags stories about fallen stars and tragic historical figures who died dead broke or very close to it. Boxer Joe Louis made a staggering amount of money during his reign as one of the country’s top pugilists in the ‘30s and ‘40s, but money always passed through his fingers too quickly.  His third wife, Martha, was left broke when Joe died, she could no longer walk, and she couldn’t afford a wheelchair of her own.  She needed false teeth and new glasses, but there was no money for any of those things.  Joe Lewis was known for saying, “Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die”, and he also said, “I don’t like money actually, but it quiets my nerves.”

Life is full of ups and downs and everything doesn’t always go according to plan, as you might soar above others and think that you are sitting on top of the world up in an ivy tower and then the next minute you are completely impoverished lacking any resource or the means of subsistence, which is what happened to a man named Dicrotendipes Thanatogratus. He was a noticeably friendly guy who owned the Drunken Whale Tavern.  It was located in a meadow near the woods on the spot where a tidal wave washed up a shark.  A marsh was created from this tidal wave that swept over the shore and Dicrotendipes used this place behind his tavern to dump all of his garbage.

Suddenly everything started going wrong in his life, his wife got sick and the town sawbones was not able to heal her, so she died.  He had to sell his business so he could be around to raise his children.  He felt like he had lost his place in society, as all of his former friends had deserted him.  He became the caterpillar who envied the bird, because it was able to fly away, where he was destined to spend the rest of his life in the cellar and wither away.  He started to borrow money from anyone who would loan it to him even though he knew that he had no way of paying them back.  When his debts came due, he acted forgetful, it was like he had a convenient memory that allowed him to overlook any obligation to pay his creditors back.  Things even got worse because of the antics of an arsonist and his house was burned down. He began to cry when his children were taken away from him to pay off some of his debt.  Dicrotendipes died and the whole town refused to bury him because of his debts so his body was left in a pile of horse dung.

Destiny Lands walked into town with his horse Charmer beside him and he decided to amble over to the stable so the blacksmith could have a look at his horse and this is when he discovered Dicrotendipes corpse rotting awayDestiny inquired why the man was not given a proper burial and he was told that when he met his demise, that he owed half the people in town money and that his body lay unburied as a lesson to all swindlers that being a deadbeat in this town would not be tolerated.  Destiny started pondering the situation and he made a moral decision that the transformative effect on fate of this man after his death was cruel and that he was now a lost soul who would never be shown the way to heaven. Destiny was moved by this sad story and he made his mark paying off all of this man’s debt by giving up his last penny, so he was able to ransom the corpse and give it suitable burial.  The restless soul was removed from the pile of horse dung and laid to rest and then Destiny continued on his way.

As Destiny was leaving town, he found himself in peril when motor crumbled off this wall next to the marsh and injured his horse.  He dismounted his horse and started to crouch down to get a better look at how bad Charmer was injured, and he saw blood gushing from Charmer’s leg.  There he meets a strange man wearing latex gloves who is able to cauterize the wound and heal his horse.  Destiny felt so grateful that this stranger helped his horse and he was glad that it was not any worse, as he knew that fractures in a horse can be devastating, especially since their legs are so breakable.  The strange man welcomed Destiny with open arms and then disclosed that he is the ghost of the man whose corpse Destiny had befriended and he said that he was the one who was in debt for being allowed to get a proper burial.  He told Destiny about a story that he heard when he owned the tavern.  This man who he took as a drunk told him that money was buried in the land where the marsh was created from the tidal wave.  Now that Dicrotendipes was dead, he was able to see exactly where this money was buried, so he told Destiny the location of where he should dig and he said that there was probably enough money for him to buy a castle.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt – Convenient, for FOWC with Fandango – Memory, for July Writing Prompts – Antics of an arsonist, for Laura M. Bailey All The Shoes I Wear Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt – Castle, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Noticeably, for Ragtag Community – Open, for RayNotBradbury Cool Writing Prompt – Famous couples from the past challenge, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Friendly, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #150 (5) word prompt – Ghost Mark Woods Soar Meadow, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge prompt – tower tidal wave shark, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Amble and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle 204 – Breakable Sawbones Marsh Cry Wither Mortar Crouch Latex Gloves Preta Cellar Mournful Cauterize.

Torrid Love Affair

No, it wasn’t romance, but I finally had sex with a woman who was not passed out drunk at the time.  This is nothing to sneeze at, not an inconsequential matter, or a trifling thing, or some type of illusion about what I did not being reasonably consensual.  I look at it as a deeply personal cri de coeur concerning the nature of erotic passion and I hope things work out for us, so she becomes my lover.  She was masterful in bed and the best part was that when it was over, I did not have to pay her any money.  She was gentle and she has this finesse that knows no limits as she has reached the peak of her sexuality.  It felt like I was in heaven while we were doing it, I know that I will last longer the next time, but she never complained about the brevity, however she made me promise not to divulge too many details about our encounter, as she said that would shatter our relationship.

I saw her in the museum when I was doing research on mummies to catalog a nostrum that was supposed to rejuvenate and hydrate skin while enhancing elasticity.  We both left at the same time and walked down the cobblestone passages and then came the downpour, just as the weather man had predicted.  I had my umbrella and I saw she was getting soaked, which made me feel empathy for her.  I motioned for her to get under my umbrella with me, because the rain was coming down in torrents.  She took me up on my offer and I asked her how far she was going and she replied as far as I wanted.  She tripped on one of the cobblestones and lost her balance, which made her hold on to me tighter.  I smiled at her and told her that I hope she learns her lesson to bring her umbrella along with her the next time that rain is forecasted.

Lightning started to shoot out from the skies, which made us both dart for the nearby coffee shop.  It felt good to get out from the elements and I asked her if she wanted to share a booth, till the storm cleared and she agreed.  She told me that she had not eaten anything today and she was starting to feel a bit frail.  I suggested that she order something containing carbohydrates as this is a central food for maintaining energy.  She agreed but said that she was watching her figure and she did not want to eat anything that would yield too many calories.  I told the waitress that she was seeking a quick burst of energy to raise her blood sugar without getting any extra calories, and asked her if there were any good choices on the menu.  This lady in the booth behind us said that she was a registered dietitian and she suggested a fruit salad for physically active adults that are seeking healthy weight management.  The waitress said that they did not have fruit salad on the menu and this caused a kerfuffle when the dietitian complained to the waitress about the menu being so limited and not having enough healthy food choices.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt – Frail, for FOWC with Fandango – Lesson, for July Writing Prompts – Cobblestone passages, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Kerfuffle, for Ragtag Community – Dart, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Balance, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #149 (5) word prompt – Downpour Gentle Shoot Peak Yield, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge, where the three prompt words are “Museum, sneeze and romance”, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Rejuvenate and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle 203 – Finesse Money Lover Masterful Illusion Brevity Shatter Empathy Cri De Coeur Catalogue Nostrum and Central.

Row Jimmy Row

I had made my money in the trolley business, a passenger vehicle powered by electric overhead wires, which is also referred to as a cable car system.  I did real good getting the contract to establish 23 lines in the city of San Francisco.  It was a desultory system which lacked a basic plan and it was constructed in a hodge-podge fashion, as the city planner was a drunk, who lacked any keen judgment, but it was a good way to get around the city.  I had to destroy a tree here and there and that left me feeling manqué about my accomplishments, but I don’t want to raise a conniption about this.  I took my wife Julie, an American socialite with me on a trip to Europe, so we could embrace our quest to enjoy life to its fullest.

On our way back from Europe, it was a clear, cold, star-lit night when I was awakened after the ship made impact with an iceberg, but I heard someone out in the hall say that there was no danger, so I tried to get back to sleep.  Then our steward knocked on our cabin door and said that all passengers should put on their life preservers.  I realized that I was not getting any more sleep for a while and my wife wanted to go out on the deck to see what was really going on, so we headed topside.  We got dressed and when we reached the starboard deck, we saw that they were already loading the first-class passengers into life boats.  We saw the iceberg and it was as high as the bridge on this ocean liner and my wife said, “Make sure that they secure a spot for us.”

I was shocked that she said this as we were on the Titanic, the world’s safest ship and surely it would never sink, but I thought what kind of idiot runs into an iceberg.  People were not panicking yet and the officers in charge of loading the boats kept repeating ‘women and children first’.  My wife climbed into the life boat with about 10 other women and when no other women or children responded to the officers call, she told the officer that I was her husband and that there was plenty of room for me in the boat.  A number of men then climbed over the rail into the boat along with me.  Once I got into the boat I felt my hand clench on to the side in desperation as I started to weigh this unknown situation.  This was a State of Emergency and there was no Turning back Tuesday as my mind was filled with stress.  Our lifeboat was lowered down into the water and we had no officer or seaman in our boat to make decisions on what we should do.  I was able to disengage an oar, and I used it push our boat away from the sinking ship.  I rowed off as fast as I could and my wife grabbed a lantern so I could see what was ahead of our boat.

A wave splashed into the boat and I had to take my shirt off and wring it out, as it had gotten all wet.  I took note of all the passengers that got into the life boat and I knew that I was going to have to assume the part of being the leader in this boat.  I had to strengthen my resolve, so I did not falter.  One guy was acting like a bully and I did not need any of this Red Tape, so I wacked him with the oar and told him to behave or else he would be visiting Davy Jones locker.  As the Titanic started going under, I heard loud shouts of terror and the sound of people jumping into the ocean as they plunged overboard.  The people who abandoned ship were not lucky enough to get into a life boat, so they all succumbed to hypothermia.

A woman in our boat named Molly Brown said that she was rescued from the Colorado River as an infant and raised in wilderness, till she got married and made a fortune in silver and gold mines.  She gave me encouragement to keep rowing saying, “Row Jimmy row”, as she told me her life story.  She offered me a pillow and I kept rowing even after the Titanic sank, and finally the Carpathia arrived and rescued us.  I found out later that the unsinkable Molly Brown became a fan fiction among the survivors.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt – Quest, for FOWC with Fandango – Judgment, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Desultory, for July Writing Prompts – Turning back Tuesday, for Ragtag Community – Keen, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Embrace, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #148 (5) word prompt part, left, tree, wet and note, for Swimmers the New Community Pool prompt – Trolley, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge, where the three prompt words are “bully, fan fiction and pillow”, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Conniption and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Bonus Wordle “State of Emergency” prompts – falter, resolve, unknown, red tape, state of emergency, wring, desperation, stress, decisions, clench, manqué and weigh.

The Apothecary

He was a US citizen who spent time in Jamaica learning myalism from a tribal chief named Bambara, who taught him this folk religion which focused on the power of ancestors, and always involved clapping hands, drumming, dancing, spirit possession, ritual sacrifice, and herbal cures, before he was awarded a Rhodes scholarship that provided him with two years of study and then he opted for a third at Oxford University in England.  After graduating he spent a year travelling abroad and during that time he went to India and Africa, and this is why he was referred to as a wanderjahr.  He was always an honorable man and he achieved significant fame for some of his exploits.  While flying over Uganda, a 30 mm Gatling gun fired 65 rounds per second from the ground at his plane, which took out the engine and the pilot handed him a parachute and said that they should jump.  They saw the plane smash into the ground, while they were floating down, it exploded in a violent blaze and they knew that nothing but a rubble of burnt and twisted metal was left.

They made it to the ground and the good news was that it didn’t look like the rebels were going to chase after them, but they were marooned in the jungle.  He hated snakes and there are so many snakes in the jungle, which made him glad that he grabbed his sleeping bag before he jumped.  He was numb and breathless from this ordeal when he met Niemba, an African medicine man, witch doctor or shaman who was a Zulu sangoma that diagnosed, prescribed, and performed healing rituals and who was also concerned with being able to cease any mysterious death involving his people.  Niemba had a distinctive look featuring nose bling, wearing a bone in his nose and he also had an octopus totem around his neck, that he said kept his nocturnal energies and rhythms in alignment and also resulted in heightened levels of productivity as he never wanted to be a wastrel.  Niemba agreed to be his mentor as long as he abided by the rules and this put his lifelong healing career in motion.  Niemba was vehement about his methods and he knew how to concoct many different potions and elixirs to cure almost any ailments.  The apothecary learned to appreciate the healing mysteries that Niemba revealed to him, as he certainly got his pennyworth of valuable knowledge during the time he spent in the jungle, which set a precedent for how his future would be spent.

The pilot had started calling him doctor and he waved his fists in the air and said it was time for them to leave the jungle.  He told the doctor that he a bad case of loving his estranged wife and that no medicine was going to cure his ill, except maybe a cold pint of brew.  He was a stamp collector and he thought that they should head East into Kenya, as he knew a place where he might be able to purchase some scarce and rare Kenya and Uganda stamps.  He also wanted to get back home so he could finish installing that tile project in his kitchen.  He missed his son and the first thing that he was going to do was buy him a popsicle after hugging him.

Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle 202 prompts: pint, chase, fists, cease, sleeping bag, octopus, marooned, metal, breathless, pennyworth, wastrel and wanderjahr, for thehouseofbailey Destination Dreams Scotts Daily Prompt Parachute, for Daily Addictions by rogershipp prompt Rubble, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt: Honorable, for FOWC with Fandango – Estranged, for Ragtag Community Precedent, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge, where the three prompt words are “stamp collector, tile and popsicle”, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #147 (5) word prompt: numb, motion, fame, rules and smash and for Word of the Day Challenge Alternative haven for the Daily Post’s mourners! Prompt Vehement.

Colonial Settlers

 

In the mid 17th century, the Thewles family migrated from Europe and settled along the Eastern seaboard of America from Newfoundland, to Maine, to Virginia, the Carolinas, and some even went to the Caribbean islands.  They moved deasil along the coast for years following the plentiful prey and living in harsh conditions. There is not much to note about their physical characteristics, except that most of them had red hair, which did correspond to their Irish ancestors.  The only other family physical characteristic that was observable is that almost every one of the women were ample-breasted, having big boobies that were nicely shaped.

Julie Thewles was the envy of most of the men in her town.  She was far from being ostentatious, but she did know how to flaunt her assets.  She understood that human lifespan was finite and she felt that the human body is a thing of beauty and thus she should not have to hide it.  She effectively used her breasts to attract attention and hopefully snag a possible mate. She knew how to play her part to get ahead of the game by bearing just enough cleavage which went a long way to scintillate the fantasies of the men in this town.  She was also good at laying a trap and playing her role without having to pressurize anyone in this soon to be sexualized world, where the women were not yet objectified.  One day when her boyfriend Bronsky came over and they were fooling around, her top was torn and that is when the motor boat was invented.  You know when you stick your face in a woman’s breasts and shake your head back and forth really fast while going burrrr.

Julie decided that her life was not going to be drab any more.  This stellar decision was going to change her life forever.  Her world would not revolve around trying to get a husband anymore, as she was going to postpone all of her thoughts about men.  This new line of thinking did not qualify her as being a philosopher, but it did give her a certain clarity, however that may have come from her giving up drinking whiskey during the day and switching to ginger tea.

Julie decided to go into business and she named it Breastoration, which she thought was a catchy name for a bra factory and store.  She would exhibit this new fangled contraption for all of the women in town.  If they were interested in her designs, than she would tell them to lean down, to make it easier for them to shove their boobs into it, then straighten up, and then pop their jugs, melons, cans, hooters, or knockers up, so they’ll show through the dress.  Julie even thought about adding a counterweight to the back of some of her bras which would get more lift for the more buxom ladies, who often complained about back problems, but she could never get that to work.

At first many of the townsfolk thought that Breastoration was just a hoax, but eventually many women did flock to her store.  Her customers found out that after buying her bras, that they were more likely to have a man smile at them, hold the door open for them and speak more kindly to them.  It was life changing, like having their birthday cake and getting a visit from the tooth fairy all at once.  This new store lit a fuse with the preacher who felt that it was his duty to give a sermon about how women should dress more properly, however deep down the preacher was nothing more than a shark, who always gave into temptation and enjoyed ogling any woman that would captivate his wondering eyes, whatever shape or form, be that plump, or round and even those women with smaller globes.

Written Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #201 – drab, envy, counterweight, correspond, qualify, ginger, revolve, deasil, finite, pressurize, postpone and Thewles, for thehouseofbailey Destination Dreams Scotts Daily Prompt Line, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt: Contraption, for Daily Addictions by rogershipp prompt Plentiful, for FOWC with Fandango – Ostentatious, for sgeoil Ragtag Community Stellar, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge, where the three prompt words are “shark, birthday cake and tooth fairy” and for Tales From the Mind of Kristian Word Prompt Hoax and for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #146 Fuse, Part, Role, Torn and Trap.

One Syllable Silly Rhymes

While on the beach, I began to preach that life requires them to reach each peach.
I did not teach about the wonders of bleach, or make a speech about how owls screech.

The bleeping sheep were in a deep sleep and they did not creep, leap or make a peep.
A steep heap made me weep, because I was the one that had to sweep it up.
I put it in my cheap jeep that made a soft beep, so I could keep what I would reap.

The bear and the mare were quite a pair, who did not glare, scare, stare or swear.
Being on the square, saying a rare prayer in their lair not having a care about hair or being bare.
They did share a flair for air and they made a dare not to sit in a spare chair or climb a stair.

Knowing that you are full of bull, I could not let you pull the wool over my eyes any more.

They found their way through the gray clay, so we could all play while it was still day.
May I say that I like to lay in the hay and stay even if I do not pay.
Yea, I pray that I will slay the prey and that my sleigh will not sway.

Written for the secret keeper Monday, 23, October, 2017 Weekly Writing Prompt #112 where the (5) word prompt includes REACH | DEEP | SQUARE | FULL | PLAY