Month: January 2015

News Story of the day: A Tail of two Kitty’s…(parts)

You’ll never guess what we have here in Newfoundland….give up? How about a cat with two parts? That’s right, a ‘furmaphroditic’ cat. Amazed, right?

WORLD NEWS?  Newfoundland NEVER makes world news. Most people don’t even know where Newfoundland is, for crying out loud!

Hundreds of people are losing their jobs due to the drop in oil prices and Mittens doesn’t know which bathroom to use!

As the story goes, mixed up Mittens showed up on the lady’s doorstep, and when she went to get the cat ‘done’, the vet broke the news that she/he needed to be spayed AND neutered. And then, the vet needed to do ‘special surgery’ where they flipped a coin and decided that Mittens (a rather non-gender specific name) would lose one part and keep the other. Mittens would become a male. Apparently it’s easier to plug one part than to cut off the other.

The poor lady was hit with a vet bill totaling over $1500! I bet since the news story hit the airwaves, donations will soon come ‘purring’ in. In no time at all,  the island’s latest celebrity, Mr. Mittens, will be feasting on the best cat food money can buy, sans her vagina.

Tomorrow nobody will remember the cute little kitty….except for the vet, who stands to make a bundle on the entire situation.

My answer to the problem? Have some respect for the animal. If she/he is suffering, get her put to sleep. If she isn’t suffering (the cat appears healthy), leave her alone. And leave her the way God meant her to be.

That’s my Rant for the week.

 

‘e still builds da boats, bye

Copyright – Georgia Koch
Copyright – Georgia Koch

“Why you billin’ dese boots, Gramps?” asks little Tommy.

Jim, always the joker, decides to have some fun with his grandson.

“Ta catch all da fish in da sea!” he replied.

Truth is, Jim chooses to build boats because boat building is a tradition passed down from his grandfather to his father, and to him. He hopes to carry on the tradition, but doubts he will be able to.

“But Gramps, dere ain’t no fish anymore, deys all caught, dey sed so on da TV!”

Jim knows better, but boat building is the only thing this old ‘Newf’ knows. He’ll keep building them.

This little tale of outport Newfoundland  is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.

 

Friday Fictioneers: Places at the table

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

He set four places at the table, same as he does every day. Bob doesn’t have much of an appetite these days, not since Bessie passed away. That was when things stopped making sense.

They say he has Dementia, but Bob doesn’t understand. It seems like yesterday his two boys and Bessie last joined him at the supper table, talking and laughing about the day’s events.

Bob waits for Bessie and the boys to join him again this evening. His homecare worker explained that all three are gone now, but Bob still sets the table, and still waits for them.

 

 

This is my entry into Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers.

shed

She didn’t want to go, but her girlfriends coaxed her into it, so she dressed in her sexiest clothes and joined them at the bar. There were plenty of guys that she was attracted to, but none who approached her.

Just when she was about to leave for home, she seen him. He was standing at the bar, alone. It took all her nerve to go up to him, God knows it wasn’t her style to initiate anything with a total stranger, but she got a good vibe; she  couldn’t pass this one up.

Of course they hit it off; and the night didn’t end there. Off to a hotel room, he made wild but passionate love to her. Hell, he even held her afterwards. What guy still does that? She felt safe in his arms, even though she had never crossed paths with him before.

Somehow, in his arms she felt safe. As his massive arms held her, she noticed that something was different. It seemed as if his skin was becoming soft and gel-like. Soon his entire body became soft and a strange cocoon began to form around the two of them. Completely engulfing the two lovers, the cocoon wrapped around them. His body changed to a liquid like substance, and although terrified, she couldn’t scream. Her arms outstretched, her legs kicking, but her defense was futile. And then there was silence.

After a few hours, a glowing light emerged from somewhere inside the translucent cocoon, and from there, a crack appeared towards the bottom of the bed. A tiny foot emerged from the slimy wrapping, followed by the body of a small child. By the time both feet hit the floor, the being had aged at least ten human years. The creature, once naked, appeared to be dressed now, it’s skin taking the appearance of clothing. The being, now a middle aged man, headed for the door.

A strong hand gripped the knob and opened the door, as a handsome man in his thirties left the room.

The slimy cocoon in the bed quickly deteriorated, leaving the skeletal remains of Jamie Saunders lying alone on the sheets, which were drenched in her blood and body fluids.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Two young women peered across the room at the guy standing in the terminal. He had a muscular body that showed even through the finely tailored suit he wore. The both teased him, and attempted to make contact with him. At first he ignored them, but soon he was entertaining both women. “This must be our lucky night, look at the handsome guy we are bringing to the party” one of them said, while the other had plans of her own.

Memories of an old friend

There was a kind old lady

who lived alone in a little house.

As a kid,  I  stopped by once,

to admire the flowers

and the fruit trees that grew abundantly

in her yard.

She would talk sometimes,

about her late husband, and of their love.

of the children  that they raised,

and how they moved away.

She wasn’t bitter, because she had her memories

of the things she and her husband shared.

The trees they planted

had branches that held bird feeders

and a set of chimes

he made for her.

This was a long time ago

she is gone now

the house falling down,

the paint faded.

But the tree still stands

and the music from the chimes

takes me back to a better time

in my memories