GOOD BUY, CHARLIE

       I look at poor dead Charlie and think how fabulous I look as his widow.

"Doesn't Charlie look natural."

I can thank Charlie for demanding that I lose weight. Otherwise, I never would have fit into this little black dress. Its deep neckline accentuates my cleavage, which swells ever so softly as I sob for poor dead Charlie.

"Poor Marsha. She must be devastated by Charlie's death. He was so young to have a heart attack."

One look at this dress and I knew Charlie would have loved it. It's a style he appreciated so often on other women ... young women. I have never spent $850 on a single piece of clothing in my entire life. However, since it was for Charlie, I bought it.

"Imagine how devastated Marsha must have felt finding Charlie like that!"

Of course, once I bought the dress, I had to have shoes and handbag to match. After all, I had nothing even remotely suitable to go with such a dress. The black Italian made stilettos and handbag were $1,750.

"I heard she found him with another woman. His slut du jour, no doubt."

My mourning lingerie from Victoria's Secret cost $370: sheer black stockings (with seams!), a black bikini, and a black lace bustier, something my mother used to call a merry widow. How apropos.

"Marsha walked right in on them ... in the act! The shock must have been too much for Charlie because he died right there on top of that little whore Connie."

My large brimmed black hat and a pair of black gloves were another $380.

"One of the paramedics told me that when Charlie died, Big Chuck became so engorged he became stuck in Connie!"

My costume jewelry just wouldn't do. Oh, no. So I bought a pair of diamond line stud earrings for another $7,500.

"He said that Connie was pinned underneath Charlie's weight. She couldn't push him off because they were stuck together. He said she could barely move."

Having spent $10,850 thus far, I figured I might as well look as though I belonged in the clothes. So I made an appointment with Mr. Maurice. Hair, facial, manicure, pedicure, and makeup. We both agreed that ruby red lipstick, a color Charlie had often noticed other women wearing, was not too ostentatious for a funeral.

"I heard that Marsha just stood there watching as that hysterical twit struggled beneath Charlie. She begged for Marsha's help, but Marsha turned and walked away leaving the little bitch to fend for herself. Connie told the paramedics that it took her quite a while to wriggle close enough to reach the phone on the nightstand."

And while I was there, Maurice talked me into a massage. He reminded me how terribly tense I surely must have been having been the one to actually find poor Charlie. And I simply couldn't be tense for poor Charlie's funeral.

"Marsha is putting up such a brave front, considering the circumstances. My, doesn't she look lovely today."

I never would have thought I could have afforded such luxuries had I not discovered another bank account safely tucked away. I never realized how much we were worth.

"Poor Marsha must be simply devastated."

So here I sit at poor Charlie's funeral, managing an occasional tear to trickle gently down my cheek, nodding at the well-wishers as they file by, looking like the vulnerable grieving widow.

"Poor Marsha. How will she ever manage?"

Funerals are terribly expensive these days, but they're worth it.

******

PUBLISH OR PERISH

Janet Reid’s Triple play flash fiction contest!

Tuesday marked the publication of Loretta Sue Ross's third book in the Auction Block series, a series I love so much I always hope she needs a couple revisions with every book so I can read them more than once. (Sadly, she hardly ever needs more than one set of revision notes, it's really frustrating). To mark this lovely milestone let's have a writing contest! The prize will be ALL THREE of Loretta's books, and boy oh boy you WANT to win these.

 The usual rules apply:

1. Write a story using 100 words or fewer.

2. Use these words in the story:  death  wren  red  brew  dig

3. You must use the whole word, but that whole word can be part of a larger word. The letters for the

prompt must appear in consecutive order. They cannot be backwards. Thus: wren/wrench is ok but death/dearth is not.

4. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

5. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over) erase your entry and post again.  It helps to work out your entry first, then post.

7. Titles count as part of the word count (you don't need a title)

11. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

12. The stories must be self-contained. That is: do not include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will not be considered part of the story.

Contest opens: 9am, Saturday, 2/11/17 (EST)  ~~ Contest closes: 9am, Sunday, 2/12/17 (EST)

My Entry:

“Father is threatening to shoot my low-rent brother, Benny,” said Mr. Brewster.

“Low-rent?” said the Sheriff.

“Father calls him a low-rent joyride athlete, because Benny is-- was-- a male prostitute. He says he’s retired.”

“Sounds like he has a problem with Benny’s lifestyle.”

“Father’s indignant about it, but that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“Benny has written a salacious memoir, pornographic yet surprisingly literate for him, and…”

“And your father doesn’t want it published.”

“Oh no, on the contrary. Father’s a publisher. Benny’s book would make a lot of money. But purely out of spite, Benny decided to self-publish.”

.....

UPDATE:  I made Janet Reid's "long list of finalists"! :O  Final results tomorrow.

UPDATE II: Not I, but the winner deserved to win. Janet said this about my story:  

I love how Kitty used the prompt words here very deftly. And of course, it's hilarious to touch on the theme of self-publishing. This made me laugh out loud.

.....

"IT HAS A WAY WITH WOMEN"

It's Janet Reid's Upping the Ante writing contest!

You guyz have gotten entirely too good at these writing contests. Time to move up a division. (Sorry Carolynn, not doing essays!) Read the rules carefully this time: there are changes!

1. Write a story using 100 words or fewer.

2. Start with this phrase:  "And then she saw"

3. End with the phrase: "stunned her."

4. Use these three prompt words: cat   hat   splat

5. You must use the whole word, but that whole word can be part of a larger word. The letters for the prompt must appear in consecutive order. They cannot be backwards.

Thus: cat/catering is fine but hat/heat is not.

6. Post the entry in the comment column of THIS blog post.

7. One entry per person. If you need a mulligan (a do-over) erase your entry and post again. It helps to work out your entry first, then post.

9. Titles count as part of the word count (you don't need a title)

 13. You agree that your contest entry can remain posted on the blog for the life of the blog. In other words, you can't later ask me to delete the entry and any comments about the entry at a later date.

14. The stories must be self-contained. That is: do not include links or footnotes to explain any part of the story. Those extras will not be considered part of the story.

            Contest opens: 9am Saturday 4/30/16 ~~ Contest closes: 9am Sunday 5/1/16

My Entry:

The original 1951 Buick ad

 “And then she saw Catherine Higgins, Mrs. Platt said, after she hit her with her vehicle,” said the officer. 

“Ms. Higgins said nothing’s broken, it was an accident and she won’t press charges,” said the Chief. “Thank God that sweet old lady was driving slow and doesn’t know Arthur is seeing Ms. Higgins.”

Later, Arthur told his wife, “That Buick is simply too big. You can’t see over the steering wheel.”

“I can see just fine.”

“You need a smaller car.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Dear?”

 “Stop seeing Catherine or next time I’ll gun that Buick. This time I only stunned her.”

.....

The contest is now closed, so of course now I think of a slightly better version of the story. I couldn't think of it when I still had time to do a mulligan (#7 in the rules).  siiiiigh Of course not.  This story is actually a miniature version of a longer one I've been working on for a while. Reducing that story into 100 words was quite a feat. Regardless, I'm certain my story above won't win and the one below wouldn't have, either. Btw, I purposely did not italicize any words, as I did in the version below, because I thought (mistakenly) that Janet Reid doesn't care for italicized words. But I digress. Here's what I consider to be the better 100-word version:

“And then she saw Catherine Higgins after she hit her with her vehicle, Mrs. Platt said, but not before,” said the officer. 

“Ms. Higgins said nothing’s broken, it was an accident and she won’t press charges on that sweet old lady,” said the Chief. “Thank God that sweet old lady was driving slow.”

Later, Arthur told his wife, “That Buick is simply too big. You can’t see over the steering wheel.”

“I can see just fine.”

“You need a smaller car.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Dear?”

“Stop seeing Catherine or next time I’ll gun that Buick. This time I only stunned her.”

The results are in:  I didn't win, but I made the finalist list! JR remarked: I'm a sucker for an old lady driving a Buick story, most likely cause Granddad was a Buick man. And I do like the little twist that no one expects a little old lady to be lethally aware of her man doing her wrong.


UPDATE! UPDATE!! 6/7/2016: If I want to collect and publish a selection of blog contest entries, like this one from Kitty,
.....