Dear Guests, Patrons and People Who Have Actually Read All the Posts in This Series or It Might Not Make Any Sense,
“Thank you for joining us on this… actually, I’m no longer sure what night this is at Bonnywood’s Annual Cultural Arts Festival and Bacchanalia. It feels like I’ve been standing on this stage for years. I’ve been drinking a lot of coffee and it’s hard for me to focus and… Oh my God!”
God: “I’m sorry, but could you hang on just a minute? I’m wrapping up a conference call about this Syria mess. Please listen to some Enya while you wait.”
Me: “Oh, sorry Sir. Or Madame. I didn’t mean to ping you, it’s merely an expression. I was just startled by someone I can see in the audience.”
Embeecee, poking her head up from the third row: “I didn’t do anything! And neither did the former judge who just happens to be below me. He, um, tripped… and he might have hurt himself… and I thought mouth-to-mouth was in order.”
Me: “No, not you, Em. You can carry on with your limeade slushie. None of my business. I’m talking about the woman in the first row.”
Barbara, who was one of the many women in the first row because it was a rather long one: “Do you mean me? I haven’t done anything, either. I’m just waiting for the wind to start blowing toward the west so I can get back to Lubbock. You know how crazy it is trying to get a flight out of DFW on a Sunday night. I’m tired and I’m hungry and I gave all my peanut packets to the pussies in the back.”
Me: “No worries, Barbara. I was talking about the woman next to you.”
Laurel, on Barbara’s left: “I know damn well you don’t mean me. Do you really not remember what I do to men who piss me off? Where’s my water bowl?”
Me, my voice going strangely high for some reason: “Oh, I would never cross you, Laurel. Never. Me and my highly-alarmed testicles are talking about the woman on Barbara’s right.”
Dorothy, not particularly impressed about being associated with The Right, and even less-enthused with the sudden spotlight: “Why are you annoying me like this? I’m merely here for the artistic entertainment and do not relish interaction.”
Me: “But, Madame Parker, you are one of my idols. I am agog with pleasure that you are attending our bacchanalia and it would mean the world to me if you could share one of your tremendously witty observations about life.”
Dorothy Parker: “Fine. Shut the hell up.”
Dorothy: “Don’t ask if you don’t want me to tell.”
Me: “I must say that our meeting is not going quite the way I expected in my dreams. This is going to result in some very dark poetry. And probable excessive drinking.”
Dorothy: “There you go again, making it all about you. This is supposed to be about the featured writers, not the featured presenter. Why are you making these intros so long? Even foreplay has its limits.”
Me: “It seems like you’re being a bit unjust. I’m merely trying to keep things entertaining.”
Dorothy: “No, it seems like you are trying to steal the spotlight before it shines too brightly on others.”
Me, lowering my head: “Well, comments like those might have appeared on my progress reports during my servitude in the public-school system. I just wanted people to love me.”
Dorothy: “Well, that’s why we have psychotherapy and herbal alternatives to reality. Now, I’ve already read tonight’s presentation, and it’s gorgeously satisfying. Just read the introduction and stop trying to compete. You win some, you lose some, you write about all of it in the middle of the night.”
Dorothy: “Just do it!”
Artiste: Christi at “Feeding on Folly”
Three Words: untoward, thematic, reasoning
Medium: Mixed Media
And here we go…
Three Word Challenge in Text: My Thematic Response Using Untoward Reasoning
A few weeks ago, a certain blogger by the name of Brian of Bonnywood issued a challenge. He’d give me three words, and I’d write a story with said words.
Seemed easy at the time. Then I saw the words: Thematic, Untoward, and Reasoning.
I’m sure you’re as shocked as I am. I mean, I don’t know what I did to the guy, but clearly he had it in for me.
What’s more — now get this — he added, “And I challenge you even further by suggesting that a recipe and/or Norwegian kinfolk be involved in some way… ”
I decided I needed to have a chat with the guy. I sent him a text:
Two hours later…
You can read about Brian’s challenge here.
(Hint: he’ll accept your response in text.)
This piece has been nominated in the following categories:
The Christi/Cathi award for the precise usage of very specific in-jokes that only a small amount of people will get.
The South-by-Southwest Kismet Award for happy happenstances that endure.
The Personal Responsibility Sucks Award for clarifying that everyone needs to change their passwords at least three time a day or other people will see those naughty pictures of you making limeades in Cancun.
Gratitude Award from the founder of Bonnywood Manor.
You can review more of Christi’s portfolio by clicking here.
Shortly thereafter, backstage…
Me: “Where did I go wrong?”
Scotch the Cat: “Don’t ask me. I never understand what I’ve done wrong until it’s too late. Would you like me to make you a margarita? I’ve seen you make one enough times that I can do it in my sleep, when I’m not dreaming of devouring birds on the front lawn. Birds like that wicked Dotty Pranker.”
Cleo the Cat: “Oh, please. Dorothy is a goddess. Her truthiness has validated my long-held belief that I am trapped in the Devil’s Playground known as Bonnywood Manor.”
Devil: “I’m sorry, but could you hang on just a minute? I’m wrapping up a conference call about this Syria mess. Please listen to some Ted Nugent while you wait.”
Categories: 3-Word Challenge