Category: Trifecta Challenge

Trifecta 112: A certain irony

This week’s Trifecta Challenge entices us to use the word FUNK. In 33-333 words, we are asked to use the third definition,SLUMP  <an economic funk>  <the team went into a funk> Without further ado, here is my story:

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Harry Lowe. Having inherited his hard working father’s company, Harry has spent most of his life living well, mostly off the backs of the people that worked for his company. Harry drove the best cars, ate the best food, and bedded some of the finest women in town. Harry bragged that it was ironic that he was so rich, but did so little.

This all came to an abrupt end when the stock market took a dive and his business went into a major funk.  Kar-E-Out, a major supplier of grocery bags since the late eighties took a major hit and eventually closed its doors. This left Harry broke, owing money to everyone in town.

Eventually all his fake friends and lovers were gone  and he found himself alone. This was when he took up drinking. Harry virtually drank himself homeless.

Bouncing from one shelter to another, Harry made his way by robbing those even less fortunate than he was. Harry felt it was his right to have more than the rest. He figured society at least owed him that.

One morning, while sifting through the pockets of a homeless man, he found a lottery ticket. He slipped it into his pocket before falling to his knees in pain. One of the workers at the shelter picked him up and brought him to the hospital where Harry met with the doctor.

“We have some bad news. We did a few tests, and found that you have severe liver disease. You have two, maybe three weeks to live. I am sorry.”

Distraught, Harry went into a fit of rage. “Why me? I was so rich, so lucky! Now look at me, dying and nobody gives a damn!”

With that, Harry reached into his pockets and found the stolen ticket. He scratched it and noticed three bars. SET FOR LIFE: $2000 per week for the rest of your life!

Before Harry could collect his first check, he was gone.  Talk about irony!


no place like home: Trifecta

Years ago, my Aunt Bridgette met an American soldier and moved to California. She would write my grandmother a few letters, mostly bragging about her wealthy lifestyle and her rich husband. My grandmother was never impressed with her snobby sister, and the letters were seldom read.

Nearly fourty years after she left, Bridgette decided to pay her relatives in Newfoundland a visit. She called ahead so that the family could prepare for her arrival. She instructed everyone that she no longer enjoyed boring food she ate as a child, and that the family had better ensure that proper food was prepared.. My grandmother made a pot of baked beans and molasses, and a few buns of white bread. Everyone was excited to dig into the food, more excited perhaps, than the visitor who requested the ‘fancy’ food.

When Bridgette stepped into the house, dressed in her fur coat and patent leather shoes, she became faint. My grandmother,  being the older  sister, rushed to her rescue and sat her sister at the table. When she came  to, she turned  up her nose at the food. My grandmother explained how she slaved over the stove for hours to make this meal, and the reply she got from her spoiled sister was ‘How quaint!’. With that, using a fork and a knife, Bridgette cut one bean in two and ate it. She then left the table and went to her room.

“Well, how about that? She certainly changed! When she was a kid,  she could clean the entire  pot in one  sitting!” My grandmother recalled.

The next morning, when the kids got up for a baked beans and fried egg breakfast, they were surprised to find that the entire pot of beans was gone. Bridgette was found sleeping on the chair, bean sauce all over her face.  My grandmother said “Well, ain’t that quaint, too stuck up to eat in front of us, but still as greedy as when she was young.”

this is my entry into this week’s Trifecta Challenge. The word is ‘Quaint’.

Trifecta 109: The burning car

This true story of an automobile tragedy is my entry into Trifecta week 109. The word is ‘Whatever’

When I was a kid, my uncle used to paint cars. Back then, cars were cool, and the owners took special pride in just owning them. On one occasion, my uncle, who was much older than I was, and usually treated me like a small child even though I was almost eleven, asked if I would like to see his car.

When he brought me into the garage, my eyes almost burst! Here was his pride and joy, a 1969 Camaro, sitting as graceful as a swan under a spotlight that he had mounted on the ceiling. Below the car was a sign with pictures of the car’s progress from a junker to a work of beauty. He had the car painted cool black with red and orange flames running along the hood and on the sides of the car. Even at eleven, I knew this was cool. Every day I visited him, I would constantly talk about his cool car, almost to the point of driving him crazy.

One day, while he was talking to a client about painting his car, I walked past him and onto the garage. When I got there, I saw smoke billowing from the garage door. Upon  further inspection, I seen that his beautiful car was engulfed in flames. I ran out to warn  my uncle.

I still remember my confusion when I told him about his car. “Flames, its got flames everywhere!” I said.

He looked down at me and laughed. “Of course it does, I painted them  there!” he joked.

“But the flames are everywhere! Come look!” I hollered.

‘Whatever!” said my uncle, hushing me away so that he and his friend could talk.

Just  then, he glanced over to the garage to find the place on fire. The fire took everything, the car, the garage, and all his tools.

My uncle never mentioned his car afterwards, but one thing he did do, and that was learn to take me  more serious when I spoke.

Trifecta 103: The Triple T Killer

As I listened to the old man, I was amazed how he recalled specific details of each of his murders. He told me stories that made my skin crawl. If given the chance, there wasn’t a minute that I wouldn’t have ended his miserable life.

His craggy old face was filled with wrinkles, each with a story of their own, not an ounce of guilt or remorse for any of them. He  recited from memory horror story after horror story, each more graphic than the last.

It was as if his murders were trophies, as if the stories were told so that we would remember all the things he had done, and somehow  I was helping him do just that.

The one that stood out the most was the story of Samuel Smith. Sam was a family man who made  the ultimate sacrifice. Triple T told how he held Sam’s wife and kids captive for fifty days, and how on the last  days, he denied them both food and water. He laughed when he told of how desperate Sam was, how he offered himself in exchange for his family.

Terrance T. Tompkins explained how it all played out, how at first Sam actually believed that he would make the exchange, and how the father of four then watched each of his beloved suffer an untimely death, and how Sam would be left to live on without them. This made Terrance proud. Plagued with guilt, Sam later took his own life. “He didn’t deserve to live, the worthless coward, offering his pathetic life for theirs. He should have upped the ante, maybe offer up a few more victims.” With that, he burst into laughter.

I almost felt guilty publishing his words. The book hit the best sellers list the minute it was published. Thanks to me, the world will never forget The Triple T Killer; some will even honor him as a hero.

This fictional story is my entry into this week’s Trifecta Challenge. the word is Remember (to keep in mind for attention or consideration)

Trifecta week 102: Honing his craft: Part I

he was a quiet one, they are always the worst; at least that’s what his momma used to say. He spent many a night in the garage, sometimes as late as four a.m., honing his craft while his peers were out drinking and whooping it up. They called him names like geek and nerd, but he didn’t care. Someday they would pay, he was certain of that.

The floor of his dad’s garage was once cluttered with garbage, but he seen that it was all cleaned up. When he finished, he checked the old book, and traced out the five point star with an old piece of chalk. On each point of the star, he placed a candle, and once all five were lit, he sat in the middle. Holding the book and sitting with his legs crossed, he recited the words of the ancients.

As he recited the words, he thought of every person who made him feel small. In his relatively short life, he had been hurt by practically everyone he trusted. On this night, they would all pay dearly. The ones who would be first attacked by the demons would be his parents, who had given up on him a long time ago. The next would be his classmates. God how he hated their constant bullying. The parish priest would be next. What right did he have to say that witchcraft was evil? The list was long, but in the end, everyone would soon realize the error of their ways, and come to worship the one who damned them to hell.

To Be Continued….

this is my entry into this week’s Trifecta Challenge. the prompt is

:  skill in planning, making, or executing :  dexterity

2 a :  an occupation or trade requiring manual dexterity or artistic skill <the carpenter’s craft> <the craft of writing plays> <crafts such as pottery, carpentry, and sewing>

plural :  articles made by craftspeople <a store selling crafts> <a crafts fair>

:  skill in deceiving to gain an end <used craft and guile to close the deal>

Stay tuned for the next part in the series…

Trifecta Week 91: The Trial of Edgar Rice

In the basement of an abandoned hotel, six bodies were discovered. Of the six, one was a mother of three, the others were a doctor,  a teacher, a lawyer, a priest, and finally, an author.

The victims appeared to have been tortured, set on fire and left to die. A cloth wrapped around the forehead of each victim concealed a brand burned onto the heads of the victims. The brand resembled that of a Child Abuse ribbon.

Police officers quickly surrounded the area, and in minutes, forensics studied the area and removed the bodies from the scene. It was determined that each of the victims had records with both the police department and the department of child protection.

The main suspect was that of Edgar Rice, a respected social worker and sworn protector of children everywhere. The man had celebrity status and was a hero to all who lived with the pain of child abuse.

At the hearing, Edgar Rice stood without a lawyer. He did not plead for his life, instead he chose to plead for all the children  forced to suffer the pain of abuse. As the crowd in attendance watched and listened, Edgar explained his reasons for the slaughter.

“The mother of three beat her children every day. Her kids lived in total fear and nobody would listen to them.”

“The doctor noticed bruises on  the kids, but because he was having an affair with the mother, he chose to remain silent.”

“The kids revealed the abuse to their teacher. She did not believe them.”

“When the mother was finally arrested for her crime, the lawyer got the charges dropped, setting her free.”

“The priest heard her confession and forgave her.”

“The last victim was a writer. He was writing an expose, and since he did his  homework and discovered the truth, it was up to him to do something to protect the kids.  He did nothing.”

The judge, a victim of child abuse himself, dropped all charges.

this is my entry into this week’s TRIFECTA CHALLENGE. The word is Brand


Trifecta Week 90: The misadventures of Dicky Doo

A few years back, I worked at a department store. The store owner was a straight laced gentleman who took no bullshit and did no nonsense. On one occasion, he and I went to a trade show to order new stock for the store. There were reps from all over the country, and Tom held his own with the big city store managers. Later that evening, Tom went to a special supper for all store owners/managers. I chose to remain in the lobby and chat to an old friend. All of a sudden, this guy comes up to me in a frantic hurry and asks if I had seen ‘Dicky Doo’ anywhere.

I didn’t know anyone named Dicky Doo, and I was confused to why he would have asked me in the first place. “I don’t know that guy, but if I see anyone going by that name, I will be sure to let him know you need him.” I said, politely.

“You know him, the two of you came here together. He is a heavy set guy with grey hair.” he said. “I know that guy, but his name sure isn’t ‘dicky doo’. I said.

Later that evening, Tom joined me in the lobby. He was obviously drinking, now he looked hung over. I asked if he knew anyone named Dicky Doo.

He began to laugh out loud. “I sure do know Dicky Doo, Dicky Doo is me.” he said.

“What the hell? Your name is Tom, not Dick, who is Dicky Doo?” I asked.

“It is me. Look!” he hollered to the crowd in the lobby. “My belly sticks out further than my dicky do!” he said.

I had to wrap my mind around this one to grasp what I was seeing.

Later that day I had to promise never to mention this day again. The sober Tom would frown on such things. Some people should never drink!

This is my entry into this week’s Trifecta Challenge. The word is Grasp

Ugly Sadie the Principal’s daughter


Sadie was the most popular gal in school. Being the principal’s daughter, she had lots of dates. Sadie was no beauty, in fact, one would describe her as being ‘long in the tooth‘.


This is my entry into this week’s Trifextra Challenge. The word is Tooth.