Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., Stories, whatever!

Friday, truth or tale…

This is where I write stories.
Some stories will be 100% truth (or close to it)
others will be 100% tale.
Most will be a little bit of both.
You can decide where the story belongs.

Image by Jo-B from Pixabay

When she was a little girl her Daddy
would recite this silly little rhyme
and tell her it was written about her.

There was once a little girl
who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
she was very very good.
And when she was bad
she was horrid!

He would laugh loudly
and she would giggle.

When she was a teenager he still recited the rhyme
but his laughter was more a grunt
and she no longer giggled.

When he was old and she was no longer young
he would occasionally tell her story of the little girl.
He would smile and sigh
and she would shake her head.

Now her Daddy is no longer here
but she remembers the silly rhyme
and she giggles like a little girl again.


Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., whatever!

Friday, truth or tale…

Image by Helga Kattinger from Pixabay

There was a little girl who was asked by some adults who she wanted to be when she grew up. A bit confused she answered, “I want to be me when I grow up.” Their laughter puzzled her but they were adults and it was sometimes hard to understand them.

Then they asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. After thinking a minute she said, “I want to be tall.” Again there was laughter that was inexplicable. She was not surprised that there was yet another question. Well, what do you want to do when you grow up, they asked? Without hesitation she said, “I want to be a grown up who doesn’t ask questions of little kids and then laughs at the answers.”

There was no laughter just silence and the grown ups looked embarrassed. She turned around and left the room with a smile knowing she had gotten the last question one hundred percent right.

Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., Stories

Friday, truth or tale…

On Friday,
I write stories that are truth or tale.
Some stories will be 100% truth (or close to it)
others will be 100% tale.
Most will be a little bit of both.
You can decide where the story belongs.

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

It was a beautiful summer afternoon just perfect for a picnic. The leafy trees provided shade and a soft breeze and the colorful flowers added their sweet fragrance giving a wonderful backdrop for the young lover’s picnic.

They spread out the blanket and she unpacked the basket she had filled with her sweetheart’s favorite lunch. They ate and talked and laughed about things they had shared and remembered some quarrels and tears. But mostly they talked about their future. They would soon be married and begin life together as Mr. and Mrs. It was exciting and scary at the same time.

After lunch they had champagne and chocolates that he brought for dessert. Well, soon the lovers started doing what lovers do and no longer aware of the trees and flowers just simply wrapped in one another, so to speak.

After a bit they heard the sound of soft marching and singing. There were high chirpy voices of little boys and an adult voice telling the boys about what they were seeing on their nature walk. Too quickly the voices were close and changed to whispers and giggles and the startled gasp of the adult.

The Cub Scouts were very interested in the couple who were now somewhat covered by the picnic blanket and the Den Mother was trying not to laugh as she shooed the boys in another direction as quickly as possible. Then she turned to the lovers and with a smile blew them a kiss.

Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., whatever!

Friday, truth or tale…

 

victorian-home-1606836_640
Image by Keith Johnston from Pixabay

She said, “This isn’t working.” He said, What’s not working?” She said, “Us, our marriage.”

He said, “What are you saying?” She said, “I am tired of looking the other way and pretending all is well.” He said, “What? Looking the other way?” She said, “My ignoring your infidelity.” He said, “Infidelity? That’s crazy!” She said, “No it’s not. I know where you have been all those nights you were ‘working late’ or ‘out with the guys’.”

He said, “Yeah, I was working long late hours making a living so we could live the good life.” She said, “No, you were with other women.” He said, “No way! I love you I wouldn’t do that.” She said, “I have proof. I hired a Private Investigator and he gave me pictures with names and dates and places.”

He said, “Why would you do that? I thought you loved me.” She said, “I did love you but you betrayed my love and now there is no love and you have to leave.”  He said, “Leave?! I’m not leaving this is my house!”

She said, “No, it’s my house. I grew up here and my father left everything to me in a trust.” He said, “Yeah, well, we are married and what’s yours is mine!” She said, ” My father was a brilliant attorney and he took into account that there are men like you who marry women like me. Everything, all the properties, money, investments are mine and any children I may have but there are no provisions for a spouse or partner.”

He said, “You are crazy! Your father was crazy! Your whole family is crazy!” She said, “Maybe, but we are crazy, smart, and very rich. You are just crazy, not smart or rich. Now get out!”

He said, “No! I have investments in this place.” She said, “What investments?” He said, “The renovations and furnishings and artwork, all the stuff I brought.” She said, “Everything done or bought for this house was paid for by me. Not one penny of your money was spent. Everything that belongs to you, everything you brought with you to this house when we married is in a storage facility with the rent paid for thirty days. That should give you enough time to find somewhere to live. Perhaps, one of your women can help you out with that.”

He said, “I am not leaving and you can’t make me!” She said, “I thought you would not take this well and would be difficult so there is a Sheriff’s Deputy here to escort you from my home. Goodbye and best of luck, my dear.”

Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., whatever!

Friday, truth or tale…

On Friday,
I write stories that are truth or tale.
Some stories will be 100% truth (or close to it)
others will be 100% tale.
Most will be a little bit of both.
You can decide where the story belongs.

path-365541_640
Image by Marc Vandecasteele from Pixabay

Once a long long time ago
the day after tomorrow
The big chubby girl
a tiny old woman
Living in a very big house
with a thatched roof and one room
Was eager to meet her Prince Charming
again to be with the knight in shining armor

She was frightened by nightmares
sweet dreams made her sigh
Looking toward the future
remembering the past
Time moving so slowly
all the days and years flying by
Anxious to grow up and journey far away
quietly waiting to make her way home

Posted in Friday, truth or tale..., whatever!

Friday, truth or tale…

 Friday
I write a story that will be truth or tale.
Some stories will be 100% truth (or close to it) others will be 100% tale.
Most will be a little bit of both.
You can decide where the story belongs.

cat-2762156_640
Image by Irina_kukuts from Pixabay

The little boy ran into the kitchen and told his mom some exciting news. “Guess what Mom! I learned a new word at school today and it’s a bad one!  “Really? You learned a bad word at school?” “Well, not in school but at school on the playground at recess.”

“So, tell me what is the word?” “It’s not a word you say.  It’s a word you do!” “Oh, okay, show me the bad word you do.” “Don’t get mad when I do it. I know bad words are not used in this house except under ‘ceptional circumstands.”  “I won’t get mad,” his curious mom said. With that, he stood up very straight, lifted his arm, made a fist, and stuck one finger up.  “It’s called the finger,” he said with a serious face.

With great effort to keep from laughing, she said, “Oh my, you best be careful who you show that bad word. Looks like a fighting word to me.”  “Don’t worry, Mom, after I show Dad tonight I won’t do it again.”  “Good to know, Son.”

She could hardly wait to see her husbands reaction to their son’s new word that you don’t say but do.  Hopefully, Dad won’t laugh when he sees the demonstration or tell him he is using the wrong finger.