A Rat Named Lucy and a Backyard Muse

In the mood for a laugh? The muse stories expand to the animal kingdom with two hysterical posts from a couple of funny bloggers. Meet Mike Allegra’s furry rodent muse, Lucy,  and join Molly Stevens as she hunts for her muse in her backyard. I’ve attached intros and links to both posts and, since it’s Sunday, closed comments here.  Enjoy 🙂

Mike Allegra’s Muse, Lucy

A Muse for Youse

by Mike Allegra at Hey Look a Writer Fellow

“You’re lying on the couch,” my muse observes with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes,” I say.

“You’re eating ice cream,” she continues. “While lying on the couch.”

“Yes,” I repeat.

“And you’re watching Spaceballs.”

“Yes,” I say again. “I am watching Spaceballs while eating ice cream while lying on the couch.”

She chitters with disapproval. “Is this a new way to write that nobody told me about?”

“I’m writing,” I reply. “Writing is about a lot more than typing, you know. You need time to, you know, ponder things.”

“Oh, so this is ‘pondering,’ then?” She flicks an invisible speck of dust from her whisker. “Because what you’re doing looks an awful lot like ‘farting around.’”

“Well, that’s why…

(Continue Reading: A Muse for Youse)

 

Images from Pixabay, edited by Molly

Old MacDonald had a muse, e-i-e-i-o-my

by Molly Stevens at Shallow Reflections

The more stories I read about writers getting intimate with their muses-with-issues, the more fearful I was to encounter mine. What if she is a tyrant with no sense of humor? But what would I miss, if she is more fun than a barrel of animatronic monkeys, hanging out in amusement parks? Like Disney World?

I mustered the courage to look for her. And since I didn’t have money in the budget for a trip to the Happiest Place on Earth, I decided to hunt for her in my backyard.

I searched for a Muse Hunting Call in the app store, downloaded it, and put it to use. It made a throaty, grunting sound.

To my surprise, a full grown, bull moose lumbered out of the woods, looking confused as to why a middle-aged woman without a gun or a moose-hunting permit would call him.

He asked, “What do you want?”

I said, “There must be some mistake. I was calling my muse, not a mangy moose.”

“Hey, watch who you are calling mangy…

(Continue Reading: Old MacDonald had a muse, e-i-e-i-o-my)

Sunday Blog Share: Allie Potts – An interview with my muse

 

I’m enjoying meeting all the muses that my post kicked off.
Allie Potts goes on a clever, caffeine-induced search of her muse.
Comments are closed here on Sundays. Enjoy Allie’s post.

***

The air was heavy with procrastination as I heard the door open behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to recognize her perfume, a mix of earth and chocolate spice. It could only be Moka. Moka Chino. She spelled her name with a k rather than a ch. She thought it gave her an extra shot of originality. I’d never had the heart to tell her I thought it made me question whether her head was on right.

She sashayed into my office as if it hadn’t been years since we last met. Though I tried to keep my expression neutral, I couldn’t help drinking in her appearance. “What brings you to the old neighborhood?” I asked as she removed a pair nutmeg shaded glasses, revealing mascara stained eyes underneath.

“It’s Latte. She’s missing.”

Latte was Moka’s cousin. Tall and skinny, though just as smooth. I’d met her at one of Moka’s parties and we’d spent the next hours in easy conversation. Latte’s side of the family wasn’t nearly as rich and she’d offered to help with the occasional job or two for whatever change I could spare, which was never much.

It was worth the expense. Her contributions might cause me the occasional heartburn, but…

 

Continue Reading: An interview with my muse – a fiction challenge

Sunday Blog Share: Shaded Memories of Moonlight


A beautiful wistful poem I saved for months to share today.
Comments are closed, please click through and Enjoy.

Shaded Memories of Moonlight

by  J.C Watkins Peace 

Do you remember the room? I do,
Sitcoms would titter on the old television,
the three of us on my old springy bed,
only one of us was paying attention,
I had thoughts of you instead.
In these shaded memories of moonlight,
your skin was warm and soft,
paying no mind to the comedy,
as life’s tragic drama unfolded before me.
Our hands would touch and
separate; almost like they were dancing,
entities other than our own,
flirting for us, deliberately glancing.

Do you remember the house? I do,
big and old and cheap, but real.
An unused living room as we’d live,
we’d live our lives in bedrooms,
only leaving to corner one another,
in that kitchen with the broken window.
In these shaded memories of moonlight,
the dance would continue, to and fro,…

 

Source: Shaded Memories of Moonlight at Mistakes & Adventures

Sunday Blog Share: Tears’ Task

A beautiful poem that seems sadly appropriate for the time.

Tear’s Task

by Julia Pennerzook

I cry more than I used to,
……..about those hungry and destitute,
……..driven into torturous perils,
……..risking all for scant hope of survival

children alone, afraid of
war, neglect, poverty, loss of home,
still unable to frame the words,
yet choked by invisible strangleholds.

I weep more than ever for people hated
……..simply for the color of their skin,
……..the conviction of their heart,
……..the level of their competencies

for all caught, vice-grip-like,
in social disparity, mere pawns –
chess pieces – subject to
unbridled narcissism and greed.

I shed more tears than I used to
…….about dogs – cooped up – caged alone,
…….worse still, used for cruel sport,
…….or confined by metal chain

about marine life perishing in polluted seas…

 

(Continue Reading: Tear’s Task)

Sunday Blog Share: Danny Extorts Andrew…

Since I began blogging, I’ve been an avid fan of Danny the Dog, who lived on a houseboat with Andrew, his human. Danny was a writer, adventurer, and source of witty entertainment for years. On Tuesday the 18th, Danny passed on after a much-loved life. My condolences to his friend, Andrew. I know Danny will be sorely missed. This was his last post. Read and smile.

Danny Extorts Andrew

Danny the Dog

Good morning, everybody. It is I, your favorite dog, Danny the Dog. At least I’m your favorite dog that pens a monthly epistle here on Chris’ blog.

I write about my life, my loves, and my losses—although I do not lose very often. Today, I’m here to tell you about one of my wins. And of course, it’s a win against my arch-nemesis, Andrew, my human.

For those of you who follow my exploits on a monthly basis, you know of my love of turkey slices. How every morning when Andrew and I come in from our walk, he’ll give me a few slices. And you’ll also know that we live on a boat. I only mention that because it has a bearing on my story.

So here’s the set-up. Boats have cockpits—it’s the place you steer from. There are also seats and/or benches where people (or dogs) can sit around and enjoy being out on the water. Me, I don’t get it. I love air-conditioning and all it entails…

Continue Reading: Danny Extorts Andrew…

 

❤ A small note: The link above is not to Andrew’s site. If you wish to visit, read his stories, and take in his photos, Andrew’s blog is Here.

Sunday Blog Share: 30 Signs That Your Significant Other Is Clearly Trying to Drive You Insane

Time for a little more hilarity from Brian. I think he’s spying on my life.
Comments are closed here on Sundays. Click over to Bonnywood Manor to continue laughing.

30 Signs That Your Significant Other Is Clearly Trying to Drive You Insane

by Brian Lageose

Note: Change the pronouns around however you like to fit the dynamics of your own relationship. This is an equal-opportunity whine-fest, and all variations of love are fully embraced here at Bonnywood Manor.

1. He changes the car radio right in the middle of a song that you really, really like. (“I can’t stand that song,” he mutters, apparently forgetting that you danced to this very song at your wedding. Twice.)

2. She stares at the restaurant menu for 37 minutes and still cannot find anything that remotely interests her. Yet she wanted to go to this place. (“Madge says they have the best seafood here,” she had chirped in the car on the way over, apparently forgetting that Madge was convicted of fraud in the 90s. Twice.)

3. He doesn’t understand that inviting his friends over for dinner at the very last minute might be an issue in any way. (“Can’t you just kill another chicken?” he asks, wrongly assuming that humor will defuse the tense situation. It does not. But it does give you an idea of what else might be served for dinner.)

4. She makes fun of the fact that you can’t parallel park. (“Honey, the dog could do a better job. Hop out and I’ll scooch over.”)

5. He eats the last yogurt in the fridge that you picked out and leaves the crappy one that he chose. (“They all really taste the same, don’t they?” No. No, they do not. Never speak such blasphemy again.)

6. She insists on going down every single aisle in the grocery store. (And she insists on sniffing every single candle in the home décor aisle, even the candles that you know damn well she sniffed last week. They still have her nose-print in the dust on top of them.)

7. He doesn’t have a plan in the grocery store, and he runs from one end of the store to the other at least 26 times. (On his fourth jaunt down the dog-food aisle, a bell rings and there is a brief ceremony wherein the store manager hands him a frequent-flier award.)

8. She thinks it’s okay to answer her phone right in the middle of the Immunity Challenge on “Survivor”. (“Oh, hey girl!… No, we’re not doing anything… Joe is watching some beach sport thing… Say, honey, could you turn the sound down a little bit? This is an important call. Thanks!…. So, girl, tell me more about these sandals you just got… uh huh… really?…”)

9. He lunges to close a window on his computer screen every time you walk into the home office.

10. She starts any conversation with the phrase “I was talking to Mom the other day…”

11. He starts any conversation with the phrase “Why are you dressed up like we’re going somewhere?”

12. She abruptly ends a conversation by saying “whatever you think is best” and then leaving the room.

13. He makes that soul-killing sucking noise trying to get food out of his teeth. It takes all of your strength to not whip out the shop-vac and shove it in his mouth.

14. She sneezes like somebody stepped on an anemic mouse.

15. He sneezes like an elephant getting a rectal probe, and then he insists on following it up by hollering “DAMN!” like he has no idea what just happened to him.

(Continue onward: 30 Signs That Your Significant Other Is Clearly Trying to Drive You Insane)

Sunday Blog Share: Equality

A stark poem about the pain of alienation.
Beautiful and raw, it reads like a plea.
True equality won’t come with a law but with an open heart.

Equality

by Candice of The Feathered Sleep

 

The day I came out … all my girlfriends took one step apart

it can’t be they collectively agreed

she’s too pretty, she’s too feminine, she’s not a dyke she’s one of us

didn’t she enjoy sex with that boy in the garden? you know that party the one where

they turned the lights on and saw them straddled in tall grass?

What happened? Did you get raped? Was it because you grew up without a mom?

What happened? Did you get bewitched? Is she a sorceress? A genie? A devil?

Soon after the invites to go out on the girls-nights

dwindled

the newly minted lesbian sat alone with her shadows and her eye make up

growing stale in their plastic boxes

virile boys wondered why they hadn’t kept her straight

cleavage girls wondered if she had looked at them in the shower the wrong way

why didn’t you try it on with me? her bi-curious mates inquired, offended

as if loving a girl was loving the entirety of the species and jumping…

(Continue Reading: Equality)