Midnight Snack

Tess Kincaid asks us to write about Midnight Feasts, prompted by Curtis Wilson Costs's 1984 picture "Midnight Snack"

"I Told Them They Were Out of Garlic!"

It dropped from its perch on the rafter
when slumber had silenced their laughter.
It sank in its fangs
to ease hunger's pangs
saying "Mmmm! This is GOOD!
Fresh, warm human blood!"
Then  it gorged on some lamb chops for afters.


            worthwhile

Many more^ responses to the prompt can be found HERE.

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Quack Quack

Tess at Willow Manor offers Jan Steen's 1665 picture "The Sick Woman" for our prompt this week.

The Doctor came.  The Doctor said

"Madam, I think you're quick, not dead.

Are you breathless? How's your heart?

Is it noisy when you fart?

What's the colour of your rheum?

Have you something in your womb?

Does your hair grow straight or curly?

Do you go to bed quite early?

Is there scurf behind your ears?

Do you suffer midnight fears?"

"None of these" replied the wench.

"I've given my left wrist a wrench."

"Schimples!(*) Let's even up your plight!

I'll sprain the one left on the right."

He gave her other wrist a whack,

a truly unprovoked attack.

"Now both sides match you'll feel at ease.

And that's a hundred schillings(*), please."

(*) The Doctor was Austrian, but this fact is not strictly relevant.

Many worthier Magpies can be enjoyed here.

Grumble, Grumble.

Tess calls up one of Francesca Woodman's oddball photographs for our prompt this week.

It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman

"So is this one the fork you say you just dropped?  There's loads of them . . and I'm getting cramp under here.  Look for yer own forks, why not?  Besides, I want me lunch. Some people . . "

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A Mile High Tale

Another colourful prompt from Tess at Willow Manor encourages more flights of fancy

Flying Down, 2006, by David Salle

"Do you really need the magnifying glass, Simpleforth?"
"This painting is not as random as if might seem at first sight, sir."
"Really?  Is that Simpleforth's view, or did you read it in Gombrich."
"Gombrich was dead before Salle painted this . . er . . painting, sir."
(Sotto voce) "I never learn!" (Aloud)  "I asked you about the magnifying glass . . "
"Notice the title, sir. "Flying Down"  The title is surely highly relevant to the central feature of the picture.  Or vice-versa."
"The spiral?  You or I can do things like that with the 'Twist' effect in Photoshop."
"Look carefully, sir, and you can see not one but two terrified faces, albeit upside down.  Salle has not only twisted the doomed passengers into a spiral of fear as the Cessna . .  "
"Cessna?"
"The little white plane about to attempt an emergency landing in the fireplace . . as the doomed Cessna spirals into the flames - " (He breaks off.)
(After a pause) "Proceed, Simpleforth. I daresay we have to hear a lot more of your commentary before we get round to the magnifying glass."
"It's not about a Cessna crashing, sir! It's the stack over Heathrow Airport!"
"It's the what?"
"See, sir.  You can't just stop a 757 or whatever in mid-air. They tend to plummet. So if there's no landing-slot available, ATC sends them round and round above the airport in a slow descending spiral, separation about 500 feet. It's called 'the stack'. Now, a plane going round in a circle leans over to one side. And the ground is looming closer every time round the stack. That, and the grinding noise of the flaps  . ."
"ATC? Stacks? Flaps? What are you talking about?"
" . .  of the flaps going down make the passengers think one of the wings has fallen off." (He pauses again) "That probably explains the little crane thing. Looks like a wing-section it's lifting, don't you think, sir?"
"Perhaps. But you don't need a magnifying glass to see the little crane thing -"
"Then again, sir, maybe it is a Cessna crashing after a mid-air collision with the goose that sheared off its propellor.  The goose looks out of control, sir.  But the Cessna's missing propellor is harder to spot."
"Ah!  So that's why you needed the magnifying glass.  You were looking for a propellor."
"No sir.  See that passenger with the bare bum? Maybe she was in the loo when the 'Please Fasten Seatbelts' light came on . . .
"Enough Simpleforth!"
". . in which case she'd be showing a panty-line don't you think, sir?"
(Longer pause, then -) "Pass me your maginfying glass for a minute, there's a good lad . .  "

Magpie 135

From the ballroom at Willow Manor comes Tess's engaging prompt . .

Slow, Slow, Quick Quick Slow.


A flat-footed sailor called Lancing
was thrown out of "Strictly Come Dancing."
" 'Cos your footwork," cried Venus
"is borderline heinous!
 Sort of rum-sodden hornpiper prancing!"









(Venus and The Sailor, 1925, by Salvador Dali)
Many more writers will be found tripping the light fantastic if you go here

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Magpie Tales 134

Tess's Magpie prompt this week is the picture "Breakfast" by Fernand Leger, to whom we raise our egg-cosies.

Naughty Little Bear

The Baby Bear, weary but steadfast
came down very late for his breakfast.
Ma Bear said, "Now, Bruin,
what have you been doin'
upstairs?  You've left Goldilocks bedfast."





Breakfast, 1921, Fernand Leger






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A Haiku in Praise oF Art

Tess Kincaid's picture prompt for Magpie#130 inspired this . . er . . bean-feast.

Who Was That?

It was not Granny!

Nor was it the dog! It was

her inside's insides.

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Does the Dept. of Homeland Security Know About This?

"That's gotta be an exploding cigarette. Gotta be! Detonator hidden in the cane! These f***ing Limey stockbroker suicide bombers are up to all sorts of tricks like that.  Go-Go-Go Swat Team!  Get a head shot.  Not the hat though!  Not the f***ing hat!  The hat's gotta be an IED.  Full of firecrackers, wanna bet!" 

Offered for G-Man's FFF55.  (This walking-cane with built in lighter, produced by Ronson, was featured in a British Industries Exhibition in 1930's.    Not to be outdone, America produced something similar.  Is there no end to human ingenuity?)

There's Sadness  at the Heart of Things . . .

Said the Man to the Dawg "Walkies, freak.
It's time you went out for a leak."
The Dawg said "No rush!
See that poor dying bush?
I've been watering it for a week."

          


(Image by Zelko Nedic)
Inspired by Tess's picture prompt and by Frances Garrood's Magpie No. 27
Thank you Tess. Thank you Frances.

Olympic Events You Never Knew About

The Three-Legged Bike Race.  MARK CAVENDISH is certain to take GOLD. He's Manx and doesn't need a co-rider.   All Manxmen have three legs, (see flag.)

Synchronised SpoilSporting.   Put your money on ADA TRELLIS, North Wales's sourpuss, for GOLD. 

And for SILVER . . GEORGE OSBORNE, Chancellor of the Exchequer. He's filled British households with misery and emptied their piggy-banks.

Hide and Seek.    The skeletal remains of the 1896 Olympic Champion, discovered in a tin trunk in a remote cottage in Auchterturragh, Scotland, were posthumourously awarded GOLD in absentia at the Beijing Games, 2008.