Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Band of Goofballs -The Lost Tapes

One day in 1968…

Rob: “Hey, we all play instruments, let’s form a band.”

Dave:  “Yeah, good idea, except that’s not going to meet the Trifecta prompt requirements.”

Curt and Rob, whining in unison:  “ What?  We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dave:  “Well, it’s hard to explain, but in thinking about my future, about 40 years from now, I imagine I will be doing these writing challenges and I will have to use the word “band” as a verb, not a noun.” 

Rob:  “For God’s sake, ok then, let’s band together and form a rock group.”

Dave:  “Ok, that’s better.  What instruments are we going to play?” 

Rob:  “Well, Curt can only play drums, so he’s the drummer.”

Curt:  “Cool.”

Dave:  “Well, I wanted to play drums but…”

Rob:  “Dave, your drum playing sucks.”

Dave:  “Ok, I’ll play guitar.”

Rob:  “Well, we really need a bass player since I can play the lead guitar on ‘Spoonful’, you know, the Cream song.”

Dave:  “Ok, I’ll play bass.”

Later that day in Curt’s garage…   

Rob, singing:  “Could fill spoons full of diamonds
            Could fill spoons full of gold…”

Dave:  “I only have two notes to play for this song.” 

Rob:  “I know Dave, but the bass is the backbone of the whole song.”

Curt:  “I thought the drums were the backbone.”

Rob:  “Yeah, those too.   Ok, one, two, one, two, three, four… ‘That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful…’  oh man we suck.”  

Dave:  “Jeez, I thought this would be easy.” 

Curt:  “I thought it sounded good.”

Rob:    “Yeah Curt, but you thought it sounded good because the drums drowned out the other music.  Maybe it’ll be better if you don’t hit the cymbals after every note. ” 

Curt:  “Yeah, ok.  Hey, I’ve got this reel to reel tape recorder.  Let’s record this stuff.”

Rob:  “Why don’t we try to play it better first?”

Dave:  “Aw come on, it’ll sound better if we record it.”

Rob:  “Yeah, right.” 

I wrote this for the Week 88 Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are to write a 33-333 word composition using the word “band” as a verb in the context of people gathering together or uniting. 

Friday, July 19, 2013

Untimely News

Just heard my friend, Joe, died…can’t take the news at this stage. Walk into a bar. “Jack, no water.” My phone lights up…shit, it’s Joe calling! I owe him $150.  Let it ring.

I wrote this for the Week 77 Trifextra Writing Challenge where we are to write a 33 word composition using the words “ring”, “water” and “stage”.

Your comments are appreciated.   

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

The Chicken Fight

The judge’s chambers were just what you would expect.  The walls were clad in mahogany paneling and burgundy leather chairs lined the table. I was assisting my boss Max that day, as I had been on the job just two weeks and had only been a “real” lawyer for a few weeks before that.

We all stood as the judge entered the chambers. The judge was in his 70s and a little hunched over. He had a full head of white hair.  His craggy face bore a permanent scowl. Max whispered to me, “That’s Judge Wilson, a real ‘good ole’ boy’ who was raised in the country.”   “Jeez”, I thought, I’m glad I‘m not arguing in front of this guy.”

Max leaned over to me, “Dave, you’ve done all the research; I’m going to let you argue this.”  After recovering from the shock, I protested, “But Max, I’ve never argued in court.”  Max chuckled:  “I guess you’ll learn. And by the way Dave, I don’t think your arguments are going to fly.”  “Great”, I thought, “not only am I a novice, now I’m being told I have a bad case.”

Indeed, aside from my lack of experience, I had a bigger hurdle.  I represented the County and was arguing that cock-fighting was illegal, despite the fact that it had been going on openly in our town for over 100 years.  The County was fairly urban, but there was a substantial rural and agricultural population, and cock-fighting was a way of life.  The key to my position was that cock-fighting violated the laws prohibiting cruelty to animals.

After making my arguments and citing all the applicable cases, the opposition offered its self-assured rebuttal:  “Judge, we been doin’ this a long time and nobody ever stopped us. It ain’t cruel, it’s a sport.”

After the last arguments were made, Judge Wilson looked at the court file for a few minutes and stood up.  He looked at me and said, “That dog won’t hunt.” 

I wrote this for the Week 85 Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are to write 33-333 words using the word “fly” in the context of something moving or passing. 

Your comments are appreciated.     



Friday, July 5, 2013

Freedom and Redemption

Ok, I get it.  Trifecta is messing with me.  Last week, I complained that the prompt was too constraining. So, this week, no constraints.  Just me and my imagination. Well, I’ll show…oops!

I wrote this for the Week 75 Trifextra Writing Challenge where we are to write 33 words about anything we want.

Your comments are appreciated.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

The Crude Gourmet

Walter stood over the grill, sweat dripping off his forehead. The grill always let out an angry hiss when one of his sweat drops hit the hot surface.  He took the spatula and pushed it toward the well at the edge of the grill, along with any cigar ashes that happened to fall.  That was one reason Sarah, his daughter hated to go into the restaurant.  “Ewwww Dad”, she’d say, “…that’s just gross.”  But Walter didn’t care, he was just going through the motions; he worked twice as hard as he ever did and made half the money. “What am I doing in a damn restaurant anyway?” he thought. 

At age 60, Walter was declared obsolete.  Before computers came along, he would repair all the typewriters, adding machines and pay-masters for banks in Manhattan. Walter was proud of the work he did and offered a mild protest. His boss stared at him incredulously and said:  “Walter, you’ve got to be kidding, your machines are antiquated and crude.” Sure, Walter would have been happy to retire at age 60, but he had no real savings and three teenage kids. So, he thought he’d move to Florida, maybe work at a small bank that didn’t have all those computers yet. But he could hardly get any interviews and when he did, no one was interested in him fixing old machines.
Walter grabbed the first opportunity he found: a friend was selling a restaurant. It was a typical breakfast and lunch place, with eggs, sandwiches and hamburgers. Ironically, Walter didn’t know how to cook and he never even worked in a restaurant.  “What the hell”, he thought, “I can do this”.      

Before she left, Sarah always said, “Dad, don’t forget, you’ve got to scrub everything down at night or the roaches will carry the place away.”  Walter gave his usual response, “Yeah, yeah, sure”, knowing that he would be so tired that he could hardly drag himself out the door. 
I wrote this for the Week 84 Trifecta Writing Prompt where we are to write a 33-333 word composition using the word “crude” in the context of something marked by the primitive, gross, or elemental or by uncultivated simplicity or vulgarity.

Your comments are appreciated.