Happy “National Corn on the Cob Day” (if you’re reading this on June 11th). Judging from the number of people loading up their grocery carts with ears of corn the last time I was at the grocery story, many people are planning to celebrate, and not just for one day. It’s also “German Chocolate Cake Day”–in case you’re not a corn fan.
Fun fact: German Chocolate Cake is not German at all, but rather named after the American Baker’s Company German Sweet Chocolate, which in turn was named in honor of Sam German. Personally, I think of German Chocolate Cake as more of a fall/winter dessert, so I may substitute a more seasonally appropriate choice like strawberry pie.
On a non-food related note, it’s also the “National Making Life Beautiful” day.
“National Making Life Beautiful Day on June 11th dedicates a celebration to those who make life beautiful. Whether you’re creating beauty by building relationships or helping others achieve personal success, your actions create a ripple effect, making life beautiful not just for yourself, but for those around you, too..”
For me, today will be “Family Day” as I get the chance to see some family members in person for the first time in quite a while. The visiting will be good, though the fact that we’ll be at a funeral will not. Fortunately, the life we’ll be celebrating was a long, well-lived one, so there’s that. The biggest concern at this very moment is whether any of my “going to a funeral” clothes still fit; I’m pretty sure black yoga pants won’t quite cut it. My Friday will also include spending some time on the elliptical machine (increasing the time from 35 to 40 minutes), and giving today’s writing prompt and random words a try.
Care to join me?
For those of you working away on a story (whether a first draft or a polished version on its way to publication), if you’re not feeling random, we’d love to hear a bit – whether it’s a scene, a paragraph, or even a phrase that you are especially pleased with and would like to share.
If you don’t have a story in progress, or just want to work on something new, I hope either today’s random words or writing prompt will catch your creative fancy.
Ready?
Prompt: Nothing to Wear
Feel free to interpret the prompt any way you choose (or ignore it completely) and include any (or all) of the following random words:
bulge hideous cram fashion
surreal grinder fumbling flamethrower
affordable endless power gloomy
absurdity brilliant crafty fiendish
I look forward to seeing your stories in the comments. If you’re not feeling in the writing mood today, or don’t have time, feel free to post suggestions you might have for future writing prompts. Ideas are always welcome.
Happy writing to all!
Eight Ladies Writing 
I pretend to have forgotten about the time that…
I was fiendish, brilliant, crafty, and I was using my powers for good. The absurdity of the situation cannot be overlooked. The whole thing was surreal.
This rather enormous fellow was pretending to be Jimi Hendrix. He’d crammed himself into a neon colored, hideous, flowery, floaty, polyester concoction with flared pant legs and flared sleeves. He also had a giant Faux-Show fro-wig and kerchief band to go with it. Where were the fashion police when you needed them? You could see EVERY bulge, EVERYWHERE, and count the hairs and wrinkles present. I needed a flamethrower in my hands RIGHT NOW to burn my eyes out or torch the edge of his polyester. It would go up like a grease-fire on meth.
I felt bad. I was here to rescue him. But my eyes were deciding to squeeze out blood in pain or tears of endless laughter for later. Neither option is very nice when someone is in a bad and compromising position.
Mr. Jimi Faux-Hendrix had gotten his bulge caught in his zipper. Fumbling to get his pants off for some sort of action out near the party’s pool. I didn’t quite understand. It was a brisk fall night. If his prospects for a happily-ever-after weren’t gloomy before, his zipper had now locked them in swollen surrender. He could have prevented this bulging error in judgement with an affordable pair of underwear!
One guy at the party offered me a grinder. Not the sandwich kind. The grind down, dangerous if misused, cut something off, kept in your garage kind. I looked at him. “Would you want me to use that to get your pants’ zipper off?” His eyes darted from me to the grinder, to the Faux-drix, to his own guy-land recreation area and backed off. His more helpful buddy handed me a pair of pliers.
I grabbed the Show-fro off with one hand, so he wouldn’t drown in it, and shoved him into the pool with my other hand.
S-P-L-A-S-H!!!
Squeak.
Splish-splash.
“What the??!!!”
He was flailing, followed by panicked freak out.
“I can’t swim!”
“Put your feet down and stand then!”
He looked at me, stood up, and headed for the edge of the pool.
“Stop! Don’t move.”
Everyone from the party was outside by the pool now. They were looking between the fake 70s legend and myself. I took the pliers and asked their bearer to join me in the pool.
“Why?” He asked.
“I need you to hold your buddy while I do some delicate work.”
“Ok.”
“What’s your name?”
“Cade.”
“Thanks in advance Cade. Let’s go!”
Did I mention it was cold out? Seconds after I entered the pool my nips were saluting the moon at full attention, right through my soaking wet, unfortunately white and tight t-shirt.
Jimi Faux-Hen-Dick-Stuck had the nerve to look at me in an unprofessional manner. I waved the pliers in front of his eyes as Cade grabbed him from behind, reminding him who had the functioning tool in this situation. I dove under. Blue-balls, the semi-frozen kind, want to shrink and suck back in to their defensive position of safety and warmth. He was still stuck, but the bulge was significantly less now, and hopefully numb. I used the pliers to free him from the teeth that secured him and was fortunate to still be underwater when his very manly scream alerted the entire party and neighborhood to his freedom. I could feel some of the shock wave before I breached the surface.
911 was retrieving him from the pool as I got over to the edge. Johnson, EMT, gave me a hand up and handed me an orange emergency blanket.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime, Little Wolf. Anytime. Did anyone call the fashion police yet?”
“That’s what I said!”