Saturday, June 6, 2009

Wordzzle Again!


It's time to wordzzle again! Just as a reminder about how it works, you are given between 8 and 10 words/phrases and asked to create a small but coherent paragraph using every one of them. For more examples and fun photos, go visit the creator, Raven of RavensViews
The words for this week's ten word challenge were: swashbuckler, heads-up, dry martini, recovery, jungle gym, whiskers, bathing suit, spade, circular reasoning, abrasive and for the Mini Challenge: butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, stagnation, chart, star crossed lovers, apricot brandy
Here's the blogger's 10 word and mini. Didn't get to the maxi before the internet went down! As it is, I'm having to post from the library pending FIOS coming into my home!
10 Word
It was a brilliant evening in December in the desert over Nevada. Eagle 7-22 focused intently on his heads-up display trying to discern the precise place in the target zone that would give him the most points. Being able to discern exactly what the unit was telling him was what kept him on the edge, whiskers away from death. Suddenly, his stomach reacted to what his brain had already realized. He was pinged. He visually muscled through the jungle gym of stimuli and fired, unleashing an impotent missile towards the Red Team member that had gotten him. Too late, the missile just snaked away harmlessly. Red Team was long gone.

“This is Eagle 7-22. I’m out,” he informed his flight lead. As he pulled out and headed back to base he reflected on what had happened. He knew his debrief would be rough and started thinking in a loop. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I ought to save the taxpayers some money right now. Maybe I should’ve listened to my brother and gone to the Naval Academy. I like water. It’s good stuff.”

He paused and reflected, “ On the other hand, I’m better than 100% of the people who washed out of the Air Force Academy, and 100% of the people who washed out of Pilot Training, and certainly 100% better than those people flying something other than fighters. I just haven’t gotten my rhythm yet. And the more I fly this mission, the better my rhythm will be.” Suddenly he grinned. The circular reasoning had restored his normally confident , if a bit abrasive, mien.

“Eagle 7-22, what’s the grin for?” he heard in his headset. Eagle 7-22 looked over at the Lieutenant flying at his wing and crowed, "Hey! You got it before me!” Eagle 7-22 crowed. “You went out all swashbuckler in that dogfight and got pinged!”
The Lieutenant ignored this comment and kept flying. The cocky young guy couldn’t leave it alone. “Ha Ha! You’ll be riding the squadron donkey down the flightline at midnight in a pink spandex bathing suit tonight." He was referring to the moment of humiliation reserved for the first flight member to get pinged in any exercise. "I’ll be the one standing there with a dry martini.” The Lieutenant looked over, rolled her eyes, and then pointed up in the sky above Eagle 7-22’s plane.
Dry mouthed, he looked up and realized he was going to get his own back, in spades, and sooner than midnight. He sighed. There was Santa Claus, sleigh and reindeer, motioning with his hand for Eagle 7-22 to knock off the chatter and head back to recovery on base. There was some coal with his name on it that needed shoveling.
Mini
Melly sighed deeply and patted her brow with a lavender scented handkerchief. “My, it is certainly warm this afternoon,” she commented. Lucy ground her teeth and smiled sickly. Melly had shown up about an hour earlier in order to ‘help’ Lucy unpack. That consisted of presenting her with a welcome home gift that she insisted they open and drink. As part of the social rules that Lucy had absorbed with her mother’s milk, it meant they had to sit in the front room, surrounded by boxes, and trade small talk until the true purpose of Melly’s visit was revealed.

Lucy had only been back in Spring Mill three days and the stagnation that overtook this place was already starting to infest her brain. She tried to focus on Melly’s inane platitudes while she tried to think of a socially acceptable reason to ask Melly to leave. What would her mother have advised? Fainting? Coughing and muttering, “swine flu?” Maybe she should just give in to lassitude and start snoring.

Suddenly Melly zeroed in on her reason for coming over. “So Lucy, tell me the story of why you came back from the city? Please say it was something exciting like star crossed lovers! I do love something good to share when the girls get together over at Cindy Lou’s.” Lucy eyed her former best friend from high school and wondered what on earth they had ever shared. Melly looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Lucy well knew though that any dirt she dished would be all over town in less time it took a Beatles song to top the charts in 1968.

Suddenly, she couldn’t resist. Forgetting that she had moved back to Spring Mill in order to rebuild her life and fit into a small town again, Lucy suddenly decided to torpedo that opportunity. She took a deep drink of the vile apricot brandy and said, “well, . . . I guess I can tell you.” Melly leaned forward.

“How odd,” thought Lucy, “she really does lick her lips in anticipation! I always thought that was a literary device!” Lucy toyed with the other former-debutante for a moment longer and then began again, “well, you remember that big news story about the earthquake in New York City that changed the course of the Hudson River?” Melly nodded eagerly.

“Hundreds were killed? Blocks of apartments wiped out? The President declared it a disaster area?” Melly nodded at each reminder of the depth of the damage.

Lucy said, “It was my fault. When they found out, they asked me to leave the city.”

Melly’s expression switched to thunderclouds as she thrust herself up out of her chair and stalked out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door.

Lucy laughed until fell out of her chair. “I won’t be popular, but I will not be ignored!” she sang out triumphantly.
Now, YOU try it! Attach it as a comment or e-mail to us!
/kw

2 comments :

Reston Friends! said...

Charly's wordzzle:
The California doctor slammed the door as he rushed out of his apartment to his car. He had talked to his wife and they planned to meet at the club--the witch, BUTTER WOULDN'T MELT IN HER MOUTH. All he wanted was more time to pay the alimony. Yes, he was going to solve this problem today. As he drove off in the direction of the club he decided he'd suggest a drive. He felt into his pocket to confirm he had the stethoscope and felt panic when it was not there. He remembered hearing a noise as he stepped into the MG, but hadn't had time to investigate. Calm down, he thought, there has to be another way...A-ha! he turned the corner and headed another direction to his office. Once inside he checked a CHART and saw that, yes, it was in the cabinet; a liquid medicine that when mixed with alcohol causes a death that appears to be a heart attack. Off to the club, the STAGNATION of traffic was making him late, he knew she was to meet the STAR-CROSSED LOVE of her life after their meeting. He didn't care how long he made her wait. Once at the club, he stopped at the bar and ordered an APRICOT BRANDY for the two of them. He slipped the medicine in the one he would give his wife. He greets her with a smile and offers her the brandy as he sits down. She's thinking for a cranky man, he's being too nice. He's never this cordial--I wonder what's behind the smile...ummm...his napkin falls to the floor and as he bends down to pick it up, she switches brandies and waits to see just what he's up too...moments later, she has her answer. He straightens up in the chair and with a gleam in his eye, he lifts the brandy to his lips...

Stephen said...

The white lettering of the post on the pale background made it impossible to read until I dragged the mouse over it, highlighting it. The Show Original Post option in the comments area shows it in normal text, though.

I did like the stories, especially the second one.

I liked Charly's story, too.

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/