Magpie Tales#93

Once again, Tess at Willow Manor delights writers with a picture to furnish their imaginations.

"I don't like the look of that, Smiddy. Not one little bit."
"Wasn't there yesterday, Boss."
"Worse than that. It wasn't there earlier on today."
"You're damn right, come to think of it. Whadya think?"
"Think we need back-up?"
"Could be somebody inside it, Boss."
"Good thinkin'. Just what I was thinkin'. Just the sort of place these hoodlums always hide out in. O.K. I'm goin' in. Smiddy - cover me."
(Footsteps as Boss crosses the street. )
(Shouts) 
"Come out with your hands up and lie on the ground face down. Lie on the f****ng ground!"
(There is no response from the settee or from inside the settee.)
"On a count of three, come out the goddam settee! One!"
(Smiddy joins Boss on the sidewalk in front of the settee.)
"Two!"
(Both heft their firearms and chamber a round.)
"We can claim it resisted arrest, Boss. Or the guy inside it did."
"Damn right! Three!"
(They look at each other and Boss nods.  Both fire several rounds into the seat and back of the settee. Nothing happens.)
(Pause, then) "Got an idea, Boss! Ticket it for parking on a yellow line."
(A third voice enters)
"You guys blind or what? I'm not on the yellow line. And I'm not parked. I've been fly-tipped. On the sidewalk."
(Boss and Smiddy stare for a moment at the settee and at each other, then turn and scurry back to their patrol car and fire up the motor and rev away, tyres smoking. Three or four blocks later . . )
"Not a word, Smiddy. Not. A. Word back at the station-house. No incident report. Nothing. Just call the Cleansing and tell them get a dump truck down there."
(Smiddy, driving, looks in the rear-view mirror.)
"Boss!  Jesus H., Boss! The settee . . . it's following us . .  "


Drat! I smell something burning. Blogpals are invited to complete the story for me while I go investigate.

Magpie Tales#92

Tess's tender picture this week shows us the late Paul Newman and lovely Joanne Woodward.

But will this pair stay together 50 years . . . ?

He:    This isn't much like Rodin's.

She:   What?

He:    "The Kiss"

She:   The what?

He:    You're not listening. I was talking about Rodin's "The Kiss"

She:   Eh? Your mind wandering or what?

He:    It's a renowned statue. Of a couple kissing. By Rodin.

She:   We're a couple kssing. Whadda we need this roadman for?

He:    Not Roadman. Rodin! Rodin! He was a sculptor. He was French.

She:   So? He sculpted a french kiss? Mummy told me never to kiss with my mouth full.

He:    They're both sitting up.

She:   Who are both sitting up?

He:    The kissing couple Rodin sculpted. They're sitting up.

She:   That's how we started. Sitting up.

He:    His hand is on her thigh.

She:   So it's wanderin' hands now, not wanderin' minds? Over skirt or under?

He:    Neither, really.

She:   Eh? Gotta be one or the other.

He:    Not necessarily. The thing is . .

She:   She's wearing trews? 

He:    No. The thing is . . in the statue . . they're both . . (He whispers)

She:   Well! If this isn't the most round about 'Get yer kit off' chat I've ever heard.

He:    Look! I wasn't suggesting . .

She:   'Course you were! Wasn't born yesterday. This statue. The bloke. Can you see his?(She whispers)

He:    No need to be coarse -

She:   Or did the Roadman have an accident with his little sculptor's jackhammer?

He:    Oh . . really!

She:   You started it. You know what your problem is?

He:    What's my problem then?

She:   You think too much.

He:    I think too much? Come to think of it Rodin did another statue called "The Thinker." Pensive guy sitting on a rock.

She:   Wondering who to kiss next? Was he stripped off for thinkin' as well?
He:    Funnily enough - actually statues mostly are. "David" for example, by Michelangelo
She:   Gawd give me strength!

Left.     "The Kiss"
Right    "The Thinker"

Prose Poem

Kerry O'Connor  at the wonderful "Imaginary Garden With Real Toads" set writers a Wednesdsay Challenge to produce a prose poem. I hope this is in some small way suitable.


INSTURCITONS

All should read instrucitons with great care and thoroughly
fascinate yourself with components various. But first
before you start, open the crate containing these instricutons.
For this a Stanley knife be recommended but have care
and do not let small children interfere. Let then stand clear.
Next, lay out components visibly and count. Be there as many as
there will be shown in illustration T? You give the bubble-rap
to little ones to snap pop crackle but do not fascinate
yourself with fingerworks for wardrobe waits without bewilderments.
For builderwork you need and not supplied, small screwdriver whose
head be cross and one which slot. 10 meeter spanner, bowl of stickstuff
such as Evostic not supply. Warned be Bostic not sufficient strong
and all need care when breathing. Leave all time lids on firm.
All needed screws in small packs seek. Three sizes. Short, long
and longest A, B, D and holes as shown to fit, view head-on always.

Offer now parts A and B to basepart D and brackets F of tin
fix to indicated holes, screws A for these eight holes. Fit now top E
to A then B and brackets similar adjunct with care and screw.
Frame now complete to brace with cross-struts C and D note view
in illustration 3 is back view (not supplied). Now slide shelves
in slots, F,G and H but not until whole back of unit (front view)
fixed with short screws. Here there be 16 holes to finish and all seams
sealed with adhesive squirted. Now load in shirts, shoes and skirts
before ongoing doors in case when stuck will not reopen.

Door hanging levels require great patient skill. 3-way adjustment
on patent bracket special adjust roll, pitch and yaw. Here get spouse
or special friend to hold it while you work or painful crackhead
from door topling. See illustration H for all confusion. At last
invert the hole and fix the casters on, each corner once,
lugs not supplied, but local ironman or B&Q will have. And last
recycle all spare screws by local council wheelies colour known.

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR LEAN-TO WARDOBE!
(Front view will check)

Magpie#91

Tess Kincaid at Willow Manor offers writers an enigmatic picture this week -

"Please . . just give me a minute to explain. It's a game called "The Other Musical Chairs." Y'know how in the real game, one chair is taken away every time the music stops, right? And one of the partygoers has to either drop out or get trampled to death in the rush for an empty chair, right? Until there's only one chair left for the last two people to fight over, right? Well, we were losing too many chairs that way and they don't come cheap. They were getting broken and some people were actually nicking them can you believe it and selling them on "Bargain Hunt" and "Cash in the Attic" and so on. Chairs do have rights, y'know, like the right not to get broken or pinched. So we thought, let's play the same game, more or less, but instead of taking the chairs away one at a time we'll take the people away one at a time, right? Till there's only one guy left - and whad'ya know that's me! All the chairs are still here and looking good, so that's good, no more bills for repairs to chairs and so on.  You wanna know where all the people are? Far enough away in the mist so you can't hear the gunshots. HeHeHe!"

(Worthier responses can be viewed at Magpie Tales.)

LongOrion . . .

 . . . a verse form whose history stretches back almost 48 hours. Read about it on the Imaginary Garden's Mini-Challenge for Sunday, thanks to Kerry O'Connor.

Super Kingsize in a Dwindling World: A Lament

Fight for duvet! But don't touch!
Beds are getting wider, folks
but bedrooms ever smaller.
Mates in unconnubial bliss
are growing ever taller.
And so beds grow because they must
accomodate the restless
rib, knee, shoulder, elbow, bust.
Superkingsize. In a hutch.

.

A Dawdle Through the AWDL

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads asks poets once again to wander through the byways of arcane (Welsh) form.  Here goes!

Todd Aid

Give what you can for poor Todd,
a bankrupt man.  That FTSE Index
cost him his all.  The Euro
his downfall. For Todd, what next?