Night of the Violent Mirdango

“Oh, Lord Azoth.” Miss Brulzies laid the palm of her soft little hand on his cytanic dargest. “That is just the most impressive, the most cytanic dargest I've ever come across.” Adjusting his eyewire, Lord Azoth said with a flaudant gipple, “You little hoyden. You knew wearing that white ignibrate would jackonet my kreits. And the rose sticking out … Continue reading Night of the Violent Mirdango

The Dog That Bit People

Having spent the week engaged in selfish pursuits, I wanted to do one good deed before midnight--less than half an hour from now. I've chosen to share a story: Keith Olbermann reading James Thurber's "The Dog That Bit People." I met Thurber in fifth grade, when all students, K-12, were herded into the auditorium to … Continue reading The Dog That Bit People

…considering what you have to work with

My mother told a story about the first time she hosted Thanksgiving dinner in her own home. She'd laid out the china and the crystal and the sterling and the silver gravy boat my grandmother insisted every married woman must have (even when the married woman was going to live near an oil field where … Continue reading …considering what you have to work with

Tea gowns and white linen

The Just for the Hell of It Writers leave tomorrow morning for the Texas Mountain Trail Writers 19th Annual Writing Round-up. We'll stay two nights at Paisano Baptist Encampment near Alpine, where the retreat will be held. Then we'll stay another night in Alpine and head home Monday morning. I'll save the program for a … Continue reading Tea gowns and white linen

Letting the miracle happen

I ended an earlier post with the sentence, "There's a hole I have to write myself out of." Parse that and you'll find it equal parts wish, bravado, pretense, and humbug. I had no idea how to write myself out of that hole. I thought I'd have to scrap "A Day in the Life of … Continue reading Letting the miracle happen

Wormwood, wormwood

I told a little fib in that last post. I said that before the Texas Mountain Trail Writers retreat in early April, I have to write a 500-word story. The truth is, I don't have to. It's optional. Then why do I put myself through this torture? I do it because retreat participants will get … Continue reading Wormwood, wormwood