Tagged: holiday

“So It’s All a Game to You?”

by jenHappy belated Solstice!

In the past we’ve pulled the holiday week prompt phrases from various carols, and Twas the Night Before Christmas. This year we mined two of our favorite seasonally appropriate movies, Die Hard and Elf. They make for entertaining yet uneasy bedfellows. Please to enjoy.

  • candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup
  • cotton-headed ninny muggins
  • I’d rather be in Philadelphia
  • Smiling’s my favorite
  • Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!

Tune in next time part 347      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“So it’s all just a game to you?” I said. “That actually explains a lot.”

While Fleur and I glared at each other, Isolde ignored us and began searching through the galley’s cupboards. “I’m having pregnancy cravings,” she declared. “I must have candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup, all in a bowl.”

“Just remember not to use that spoon,” I said, pointing to the one I had befouled earlier.

“No worries,” she said. “I’m pregnant, not a cotton-headed ninny muggins.”

“If you two are quite through flirting,” Fleur huffed, “we need to do our own plotting before we reach our destination.”

“I’d rather be in Pittburghistan with Harry than on that wretched island you’re taking us to. Hell, I’d rather be in Philadelphiastan with Daddy,” Isolde whined. She spooned up a huge gooey helping of diabetes and shoved it into her mouth.

Smiling’s my favorite way to disarm my wife. She just doesn’t know what to make of it. I did it now, my most innocent, guileless grin.

Fleur’s blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I know you’re up to something, but whatever it is will not thwart Operation Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!”

I had heard of Operation Yippee-ki-yay back in my Academy days. It was a sort of urban legend, something so outlandish no one thought it could actually be real. But now I had confirmation that it was, straight from my own wife’s lips.

Unless she was lying.

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Holiday Sanity Check

We are still toiling away toward the upcoming release of Science Novel, and it’s going well. Jen’s innate knack for project management has again risen to the fore, and Kent has been able to take down nearly one-third of the neon-orange sticky notes that she put up on the board to track his editing progress. The cover is resting comfortably, as is one of its siblings, with the remaining one nearing completion as well to round out the trilogy’s wrappers. (More about the covers in next Friday’s post!)

Also, we have a houseful of (very welcome!) distractions, and tons of baking and cooking and cleaning to do, plus visiting and shopping and, well, you get it. This season is a really tough time to try to cloister ourselves for a final push to complete a project. Work continues, but life goes on. There must always be a balance.

Thus, because we absolutely will not release anything that feels rushed, we have chosen to buy ourselves a bit of breathing room and push the new book back until January. Once we have a firm date, we’ll schedule a cover reveal.

Meanwhile, enjoy your holiday rituals, feasts, and companionship, along with anticipatory tingles about our new novel. Delayed gratification will be our gift to you. Hope you like the color!

The Corridor Took Me to a Stairwell

  • by KentHis cheeks were like roses
  • I had nothing to dread
  • he held tight in his teeth
  • he was chubby and plump
  • the prancing and pawing

Tune in next time part 244                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

The corridor took me to a stairwell. I went up.

On the third landing I encountered another ninja. His cheeks were like roses and his fists were like mittens filled with mashed potatoes. He punched me ineffectually a few times and then I flung him down the steps, confident I had nothing to dread from him or any of his compatriots.

I left the stairwell at ground level, finding another corridor. Up ahead I spied another ninja. He was posing as a drinking fountain, crouching and spraying water from a nozzle he held tight in his teeth. He was chubby and plump, and was spraying water continuously even though no one was there to get a drink, which would have tipped anyone off that something was amiss. I plugged his nozzle with my fingertip, then carried on down the passage while he gagged and spluttered.

These were the worst ninjas I had ever met.

And, this was one of the longest, most monotonous hallways. I glanced back, and stumbled, catching myself against the wall. Behind me, rather than a long, straight passageway, there was a tee intersection. I turned to face the way I’d been heading, and gasped. The corridor now sported a 90-degree left turn about ten feet ahead of me.

Suddenly I found myself in a maze. Strange sounds reached me, echoing around the corners. I held my breath to listen, closed my eyes to shut out distraction so I could identify the noises. I kept them shut, trying to gauge the size of whatever it was that was making the prancing and pawing sounds.

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With Father Doling Out His Affections

  • by jento all a good night
  • a little round belly
  • then in a twinkling
  • for a long winter’s nap
  • and a twist of his head

Tune in next time part 243                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

With Father doling out his affections to all, a good night‘s sleep surely awaited him. But not me. I couldn’t get the images out of my head. Whenever my eyes closed I saw a little round belly covered by far, far too much wiry hair, and other things that I shudder to put into words. There was no way I could ally myself with a man who thought it was appropriate to engage in group sex in front of his son.

I pulled back the black velvet drapery panel and opened the door, and then, in a twinkling, radiant burst, the outside light flooded the room and nearly blinded me. It was a relief not to have to see the debauchery anymore. What I wouldn’t give for a father who would spend his days curled up on a sofa for a long winter’s nap, or watching game shows. Basically anything besides treason and exhibitionism.

In the corridor I surprised a ninja. A quick kick to his gut and a twist of his head put him out of commission for good. As I stood over him, listening in vain for his compatriots, I wondered if he worked for Father and the Svenborgian sisters, or if he was here on assignment. I decided I should get the hell out of there before anyone showed up to answer my question.

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The Descent Into (Holiday) Madness

r-avatarThe baking. The shopping. The wrapping. The cleaning.

The visiting. The cookies! The feasting. (And more cookies!)

Work stress. Travel stress. Gift anxiety.

New card games. Nonpariels. Caramels. And more feasting.

See what’s missing? The writing. Things in the cave haven’t stopped completely, we promise, but the apparatus available for our use isn’t sensitive enough to register any movement. So, yeah. It’s gotten pretty challenging to keep up with our goals.

We wish joy upon all our readers, now and throughout the year.

The Newly Exposed Skin

by KentIn keeping with our annual tradition, this week’s stichomancy prompt fodder is taken exclusively from holiday songs. Unlike previous years, we’re going to work them into our ongoing chain story. Enjoy!

  • where the treetops glisten
  • fire is so delightful
  • Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up
  • underneath his beard so snowy white
  • think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed

Tune in next time part 138                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The newly exposed skin of my chest was bright pink, the color deepening to red as I watched. If there were any important details of the tattoo done in red hues they would be practically invisible.

Getting a good look at the tattoo was awkward. It was going to either be upside down or, if I could find a mirror, backwards. The spa was filled with mirrors, so I gave that a try. I was still pessimistic about understanding the message, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a code that I recognized. Tessa had inked the original da Vinci style, in mirrorscript, so the reflection was plainly legible to me. The nefarious spa attendants were actually at a disadvantage with their photograph!

It did take a few minutes to recall how to decipher the code she used. Soon I could tell that the message was a set of directions, almost like a pirate’s treasure map. “Go to where the treetops glisten, and remind the headmistress that fire is so delightful precisely because it is so dangerous. You must hurry. Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up!”

I put my shirt back on, again. There could only be one place that the tattoo meant, and it wasn’t in Pittsburghistan. On my way out of the spa I nearly tripped over two people laying on the floor. One was an old man with a beard like a wizard’s, and the other was my sister Freya. (For a second, I mistook her for Thor. But last I knew he was prisoner aboard a zeppelin.)

They blinked up at me in surprise. The old man cracked a semi-toothless grin.

My question about what she was up to never got uttered. I spotted the man’s tattoo underneath his beard so snowy white, Freya’s lipstick all around it. (Another clue that this was indeed Freya — it wasn’t Thor’s shade.)

I rolled my eyes. Freya shrugged. “Dear brother, think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed.”

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Pittsburghistan By Night

by jenIn keeping with our annual tradition, this week’s stichomancy prompt fodder is taken exclusively from holiday songs. Unlike previous years, we’re going to work them into our ongoing chain story. Enjoy!

  • if you really hold me tight
  • find out who’s naughty
  • snow is glistening
  • dressed up like Eskimos
  • ring-ting-tingling too

Tune in next time part 137                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Pittsburghistan by night is a sight to behold. The searchlights on every roof draw blinding white grid patterns over every building and sidewalk, and across the heavy clouds in the sky. I was approached by many prostitutes, one of whom said, “If you really hold me tight, and don’t do nothin’ else, honey, I’ll give you a discount.”

I kept moving, in no mood to find out who’s naughty enough to take her up on an offer like that.

As I turned a corner into yet another narrow alley, I spotted something that finally tempted me. A traditional arctic spa. After the week I’d had, I felt I deserved some relaxation.

Inside, I approached the receptionist and told her I was in desperate need of a foot massage, and a mani-pedi.

What? A guy has every right to pamper himself sometimes.

From the sample board I chose an almost clear polish called “snow is glistening.” The receptionist showed me to a private room and handed me a complimentary robe. I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my fetid socks, then plunged my feet into the tub of fragrant warm water.

A few moments later, the attendants arrived, both dressed up like Eskimos in keeping with the spa’s theme. While they massaged my feet and calves, I was able to relax for the first time in ages.

I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, I was in severe pain. My chest felt like it was being flayed. It was burning and itching and ring-ting-tingling too. One of the attendants stood over me with a strip of fabric which was covered with hot peppermint wax and the remains of my once-lush chest pelt. The other held up a camera and snapped a picture, then the two of them ran from the room without saying a word.

My damned chest tattoo! With great trepidation I looked down at it. Tessa had kept me blindfolded until the hair grew back and I had never actually seen it before.

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Thankfulness

r-avatarYesterday was Thanksgiving, and that meant there wasn’t a lot happening in the writing cave. But there was plenty of family time, and Lady Marzipan got to meet her first kitty cat! Today we lunge back into fictioning, to start burning off some of the gazillion extra calories we took in at the feast.

Kent and Jen are each thankful to have a wonderful writing partner, for the load sharing and the brainstorming, and the occasional chaining to their desks. (Kent is grateful, furthermore, for a writing partner with phenomenal baking skills.)

Mom Dozes – Holiday Prompt

  • k-avatarshe didn’t see me creep
  • blink a bright red and green
  • I’ll be back again some day
  • we can hardly stand the wait
  • a bowl full of jelly

Mom dozes in her recliner, the television screen flooding her and the rest of the room with a greenish glow and whitish noise from the football game. She always falls asleep during halftime, which is why I waited until the third quarter to make my move, so she didn’t see me creep down the stairs and out the back door. In my backpack are all the supplies I think I will need, and on my way through the kitchen I grab the only food in the house, a bowl full of jelly beans. Although I’m desperate to start my new life far away from this place and that woman, I know with depressing certainty that I’ll be back again some day. Leaving the televised crowd noise behind, I hear tree frogs and night bugs. I see no one, but the chilly air amplifies the shivers I’ve been experiencing since I decided it was time to strike off on my own, and in my imagination eyes watch me from every shadow, feral slit-pupil eyes that blink a bright red and green. To distract myself, I slide the postcard out of my pocket and reread it in the hard beam of my flashlight: “We can hardly stand the wait!” The words of welcome dispel some of the shivers, and remind me that I’m doing the right thing, leaving the only home I have ever known. I flip the postcard over to see the university’s motto flying over an aerial shot of the campus. Yes, sophomore year was a good time to run away.

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I Hated My Grandfather – Holiday Prompt

  • by jenI laughed when I saw him
  • whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes
  • ice-cold in the snow
  • my two front teeth
  • a wonderful, awful idea

I hated my grandfather. He was a cruel man who died a fitting death, tumbling down the tall, narrow stairs of his rickety old mansion. The manservant said he tripped over his shoelaces. The coroner blamed his bum ticker. Whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes, the old bastard was finally dead. I laughed when I saw him on the newspaper’s obituary page. After the funeral I visited his terrible house one last time. The place was empty, the servants gone, the electricity disconnected. Even though it was August, the rooms were ice-cold. In the snow globe on Grandfather’s desk were my two front teeth, the ones I’d lost as a child when I fell down the very same stairs that so recently claimed my grandfather. I had always thought Grandfather himself pushed me on that fateful day, but now I had a wonderful, awful idea. What if the curse was real?

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