Prompt:
Mom looked down at the three of us.
"Do not make a scene in there tonight."
Well, if that wasn't an invitation...
"Do not make a scene in there tonight."
Well, if that wasn't an invitation...
Mine
None of us wanted to be there. We'd all had places we'd rather be. I'd been invited to Chloe's house for New Year's. Greg had been given tickets to an all night monster movie marathon. Even Missy had been invited to spend the night at her best friend's house.
As we were about to go inside Uncle Larry's place, Mom looked down at the three of us. "Do not make a scene in there tonight."
Well, if that wasn't an invitation... The three of us smiled at each other. When siblings united in purpose, that was all it took. It was all the extended family... which meant our cousins were soon roped into ruining the party. There were accidents with spilled punch and burnt food.
The adults pressed on.
My sister tried whining... and whining and whining. All of us wanted to kick her, but that just went to show she was going with her strength. Someone locked the cat into a room with the dog... and all of Aunt Marge's figurines.
The adults pressed on.
They'd do anything... anything... it seemed to ruin our night. Then, something totally unexpected happened. Uncle Larry... boring Uncle Larry. Boring, bachelor at forty-five, and wealthy home-owner Larry. Grandma's perfect child Larry got drunk and not just a little bit. He got rip-roaring drunk and began to strip down in the middle of the coffee table.
My sister, Missy, pointed and said, "Mom, was that Uncle Larry's...?"
My mom slapped a hand over her mouth and while my dad was dragging Larry to a back room, she shouted, "Greg, Jake, why don't you take off... drop your sister off at her friend's house, will you?"
We bolted. We'd just come around the house, laughing at our good fortune when we saw Larry climbing out a back window.
Larry smiled, winked, and said, "Don't tell your mom. I had someplace I had to be."
He was gone a moment later in a squeal of brakes and the roar of his convertible.
"Uncle Larry is so cool," I murmured.
"Yeah," Missy said. "But I'm still pretty sure I saw his...."
As we were about to go inside Uncle Larry's place, Mom looked down at the three of us. "Do not make a scene in there tonight."
Well, if that wasn't an invitation... The three of us smiled at each other. When siblings united in purpose, that was all it took. It was all the extended family... which meant our cousins were soon roped into ruining the party. There were accidents with spilled punch and burnt food.
The adults pressed on.
My sister tried whining... and whining and whining. All of us wanted to kick her, but that just went to show she was going with her strength. Someone locked the cat into a room with the dog... and all of Aunt Marge's figurines.
The adults pressed on.
They'd do anything... anything... it seemed to ruin our night. Then, something totally unexpected happened. Uncle Larry... boring Uncle Larry. Boring, bachelor at forty-five, and wealthy home-owner Larry. Grandma's perfect child Larry got drunk and not just a little bit. He got rip-roaring drunk and began to strip down in the middle of the coffee table.
My sister, Missy, pointed and said, "Mom, was that Uncle Larry's...?"
My mom slapped a hand over her mouth and while my dad was dragging Larry to a back room, she shouted, "Greg, Jake, why don't you take off... drop your sister off at her friend's house, will you?"
We bolted. We'd just come around the house, laughing at our good fortune when we saw Larry climbing out a back window.
Larry smiled, winked, and said, "Don't tell your mom. I had someplace I had to be."
He was gone a moment later in a squeal of brakes and the roar of his convertible.
"Uncle Larry is so cool," I murmured.
"Yeah," Missy said. "But I'm still pretty sure I saw his...."
Prompt:
It was the best advice I'd ever gotten.
Mine:
"Whatever you do, don't run with scissors," she said. It was the best advice I'd ever gotten. She'd told me right before the big championship. I shook out my arms, limbering up.
Outside, the announcer called out over the loudspeaker, "Here she is... the reigning champion, Lenora Michaels... the Rockinator."
I needed a new nickname. It gave it away. Well, I didn't ONLY use rocks, but I rarely went with paper. I walked out into the arena, my cape billowing behind me in the smoke from the pyrotechnics.
"Her Challenger... Billy the Scissors!" Out he came. He was twice my size, but slower and that could count against him in the ring.
We shook hands. He tried to crush mine. Juvenile.
The referee looked us both in the eyes: "You know the rules. Best two out of three."
The crowd went wild... for some reason... the build-up was their favorite part.
We nodded. A hush fell. I'd studied Billy. I'd watched every competition he'd competed in--even that small one in a bar in Tulsa that I'd found on youtube. I knew his technique down to the muscle twitch.
In my mind, I heard my coach say "Whatever you do... DON'T run with scissors. DON'T!"
The referee yelled out "1-2-3 and..."
Our hands bounced in unison. The crowd screamed.
I boldly covered his rock with my paper. The traditional mockery was fun to go with sometimes.
It could be over that fast. Two rounds.
"1-2-3 and..." the referee shouted.
"BOOOOOO!" the crowd hissed. I held up a hand to still them. In all fairness, scissors did cut paper. I'd gone for the repeat knowing it was taking a chance.
I'd be expected to fall back to scissors this time. Billy would assume that. I knew him... knew what he was thinking.
"1-2-3 and...."
YES! They didn't call me the Rockinator for nothing. My signature move drove the crowd into a frenzy.
This WOULD be it! IT WOULD! I felt it in my bones. He would go with his strength now that he felt backed into a corner. I'd go with mine. I wouldn't run with scissors. I'd run with rock because I WAS the Rockinator.
"1-2-3 and..."
It was over. The crowd picked me up on their shoulders as Billy crumpled to his knees... a broken man. I'd won. Rock SMASHES Scissors!
Outside, the announcer called out over the loudspeaker, "Here she is... the reigning champion, Lenora Michaels... the Rockinator."
I needed a new nickname. It gave it away. Well, I didn't ONLY use rocks, but I rarely went with paper. I walked out into the arena, my cape billowing behind me in the smoke from the pyrotechnics.
"Her Challenger... Billy the Scissors!" Out he came. He was twice my size, but slower and that could count against him in the ring.
We shook hands. He tried to crush mine. Juvenile.
The referee looked us both in the eyes: "You know the rules. Best two out of three."
The crowd went wild... for some reason... the build-up was their favorite part.
We nodded. A hush fell. I'd studied Billy. I'd watched every competition he'd competed in--even that small one in a bar in Tulsa that I'd found on youtube. I knew his technique down to the muscle twitch.
In my mind, I heard my coach say "Whatever you do... DON'T run with scissors. DON'T!"
The referee yelled out "1-2-3 and..."
Our hands bounced in unison. The crowd screamed.
I boldly covered his rock with my paper. The traditional mockery was fun to go with sometimes.
It could be over that fast. Two rounds.
"1-2-3 and..." the referee shouted.
"BOOOOOO!" the crowd hissed. I held up a hand to still them. In all fairness, scissors did cut paper. I'd gone for the repeat knowing it was taking a chance.
I'd be expected to fall back to scissors this time. Billy would assume that. I knew him... knew what he was thinking.
"1-2-3 and...."
YES! They didn't call me the Rockinator for nothing. My signature move drove the crowd into a frenzy.
This WOULD be it! IT WOULD! I felt it in my bones. He would go with his strength now that he felt backed into a corner. I'd go with mine. I wouldn't run with scissors. I'd run with rock because I WAS the Rockinator.
"1-2-3 and..."
It was over. The crowd picked me up on their shoulders as Billy crumpled to his knees... a broken man. I'd won. Rock SMASHES Scissors!
Prompt:
I love strange choices. I'm always interested in people who depart from what is expected of them and go into new territory. Cate Blanchett, Actress
Mine:
It didn't matter. I didn't matter. I was getting ready to go out and sing my heart out, but it wasn't my song and my name wouldn't be acknowledged. I was the understudy for if Ms. Klein didn't feel like going on. I looked just like her--now. Sang just like her. I was her--except--that I wasn't, and no one knew that. That was the secret--the big secret--the reason that Tamara Klein seemed to be able to manage such a maniacal schedule and be EVERYWHERE without burning out.
I looked in the mirror and touched her cheeks--only mine for two years now. I even had a scar on my arm from where she was burnt by a light six years ago. I had her scars.
Tonight, though. I was finished. I was done.
We'd been sworn to secrecy. SWORN! Two people in the whole world outside of Tamara and whoever I was... knew. Our agent and stylist. They knew that three years ago Tamara's baby sister had become her twin.
The people that knew I was dating the camera guy... were fewer. In fact, it was just Tamara and I that knew. I'd been planning on telling him tonight... on our date. I'd been planning on getting out of this life. I'd been hoping he'd take Mimi Klein over Tamara.
Instead, I'd been outmaneuvered by Tamara and locked in the dressing room just before Late Night was about to go on. She'd just snuck out with MY boyfriend. She knew I wouldn't back out of going on Late Night. I couldn't. Wouldn't.
I was in love with him. In LOVE with him. There were things you didn't do. Lines you didn't cross. Tamara didn't get whatever she wanted.
She was soooo going to regret this.
Tamara Klein was about to shock the world. I raised Tamara's sculpted eyebrow in the mirror. How'd you like me now, Tamara? Then, I walked out to show the world that Tamara Klein lip-synched.
I looked in the mirror and touched her cheeks--only mine for two years now. I even had a scar on my arm from where she was burnt by a light six years ago. I had her scars.
Tonight, though. I was finished. I was done.
We'd been sworn to secrecy. SWORN! Two people in the whole world outside of Tamara and whoever I was... knew. Our agent and stylist. They knew that three years ago Tamara's baby sister had become her twin.
The people that knew I was dating the camera guy... were fewer. In fact, it was just Tamara and I that knew. I'd been planning on telling him tonight... on our date. I'd been planning on getting out of this life. I'd been hoping he'd take Mimi Klein over Tamara.
Instead, I'd been outmaneuvered by Tamara and locked in the dressing room just before Late Night was about to go on. She'd just snuck out with MY boyfriend. She knew I wouldn't back out of going on Late Night. I couldn't. Wouldn't.
I was in love with him. In LOVE with him. There were things you didn't do. Lines you didn't cross. Tamara didn't get whatever she wanted.
She was soooo going to regret this.
Tamara Klein was about to shock the world. I raised Tamara's sculpted eyebrow in the mirror. How'd you like me now, Tamara? Then, I walked out to show the world that Tamara Klein lip-synched.
Wendy, and here I thought you were dissing my prompt day! *smile* Nice to see you back at FF! You are hilarious, as always. I love these! I gotta get back to it, too.
ReplyDeleteNo, I was doing in order of inspiration. It's nice getting back into FF. It's like instant gratification, you know? What you want to say is wrapped up really quickly... and you don't have to obsess about it for weeks or revise it. I like that.
ReplyDeleteI LOVE the first one. I'm so stripping at the next party I don't want to attend. Just see if my wife drags me to another!
ReplyDelete:)
I love them all, Wendy. The last one was terrific, especially the way it ended - so vindictive!
ReplyDelete