Modern Witch

 Even witches, it seems, are keeping up with modern movements:

What? No kale? Barbaric!:

Great use of Twitter:

Well, in that case:

 How about a food processor?: 
To all the modern witches. You know who you are!

Happy Halloween!

Ghouls: All Together Now

After tons of requests, alright, only three requests, I decided to merge my Ghouls trilogy from Halloween past into one story. It was either that or write a Turkeys of Thanksgiving piece, and I had trouble wrapping my mind around that one.

Ghoul of Halloween Past

Sam Hollis had driven most of the day and into the night trying to get home. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and his head kept nodding and then jerking to an upright position. When a rest stop exit sign appeared in his headlights at 9:30, he decided to pull in and sleep for awhile.

The I-10 rest stop was lit up like noon, so Sam backed into a spot furthest from the lights and reclined his seat. He cracked his windows an inch and settled in for a nap. Just before he fell into sleep an image of his former business partner and friend, Eric Marks, popped into his head. Eric’s funeral was the reason Sam was traveling on this late October night, and Sam couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Eric’s death was his fault. No, he hadn’t pulled the trigger, Eric had done that, but his suicide came hard on the heels of the end of their longtime partnership.

A scratching sound awakened him. Sam sat up, disoriented. Beside him, on the passenger seat, sat a man-sized rat.

“What the hell!” screamed Sam, scrambling for the door handle. The door wouldn’t budge, and Sam felt his heart banging against his chest wall.

“Relax, Sam,” said the rat. “It’s me. Eric.”

Sam screamed again and felt a liquid warmth spread across the front of his suit pants, “Just a dream, just a dream, just a…”

“No Sam. You’re not dreaming. This is Eric, and I’ve got a message for you from the other side.”

“Heaven?” gulped Sam. His heart continued to race and he thought a heart attack imminent. Oddly, the thought that he should have exercised more crossed his mind.

Eric laughed grimly. “Not exactly.”

“Look buddy,” the rat with Eric’s voice continued. “I’ve only been dead for three days and already it feels like eternity. But the big boss downstairs offered to lighten my torture if I could haunt you into following my lead.”

“You mean get me to kill myself?”

“Exactly. I mean, what have you got to live for? Marie’s about to leave you. You’re gonna get audited by the IRS this year. Your old man’s about to cut you out of his will.”

“Wait, you’re making this up. None of this is true.”

“Whatever. I’m out of here for now, but before the night is over you’re gonna have some visitors. Three of them. Once they’re through with you, you’ll be dying to join me.”

With a start Sam awakened. “Holy shit,” he said aloud. He cautiously felt the front of his pants and let out a sigh of relief. Dry. So it had been a nightmare. Shakily, Sam started the car and pulled back onto the interstate, anxious to put some distance between himself and the site of his dream. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard he realized he’d only been asleep for twenty minutes or so.

His mouth felt cottony and Sam decided to stop at the next town on his route to get some caffeine in his system. Already the nightmare had begun to fade. Sam shook his head and smiled at his own foolishness. “That’s what I get for eating greasy fast food after a funeral,” he thought.

At the Live Oak exit Sam located a mini mart and parked. Inside the store he grabbed a donut and poured a steaming cup of hot coffee. For good measure he grabbed a bottle of water and waited in line behind an elderly man at the checkout. The man was buying scratch off tickets and taking his sweet time.

“Give me two of them new ones,” the old man told the clerk. “No, not those, the ones next to them.”

“You want the ‘Devil’s Due’ game, old man?” the clerk asked.

“Might as well,” he cackled.”I’m deserving of it ain’t I?”

Sam cleared his throat and the man looked over his shoulder. “What’s your hurry. We all going to the same place.” he told Sam. “Least ways, you and me is.” Sam took a full step back as the man turned to face him. His white hair was long and stringy, his teeth yellowed from years of smoking. And damn! His breath smelled like rotten onions, slick with slime.

In a blink the old man grabbed Sam’s arm and transported the two of them out of the convenience store. For the second time that night Sam felt as if his heart was about to explode inside his chest. A high pitched scream emanated from his trembling lips as he and the ghoul, for that was what he must be, rose into the October night.

“You kept me waiting, boy,” the man growled. “You’ll pay for that, you will.”

Sam closed his eyes as he felt bile rise in his throat. His stomach fell as he and the old man dropped suddenly, landing with a thud.

“Open them eyes,” rasped the old man. “I said open them, now!”

Hesitantly, Sam dared a glance at his surroundings. “Whe-where are we?” he gasped.

“Where’s it look like boy?”

When Sam realized he and the old man were sitting on the topmost arm of an old elm tree he gulped audibly and steadied himself on the branch. One wrong move could send him plummeting to his death.

The old man growled, “it ain’t where we are, it’s where you used to be. Recognize the building down there?”

Sam looked down at the old three-story brick edifice. Every light in the building was on. At first, Sam couldn’t recall where he’d seen the building, then it came to him. Old Andrews Ward, the elementary school he’d attended in fifth and sixth grades.

Briefly, Sam forgot his fear. “My god! I remember this place. Eric and I met here when we were 10 or 11, but this old school was closed years ago. What’s going on here tonight?

“You’re seeing this place as it looked 47 years ago. Halloween 1967. You remember that boy?”

“I remember the carnival. Stupid kiddie games. Eric and I got kicked out for some reason.”

“That’s why we’re here,” the ghoul said. “I’m the ghoul of Halloween Past and you’re gonna get educated.”

The man wrapped his bony fingers around Sam’s arm and in a heartbeat Sam found himself inside the old school gymnasium. Black and orange crepe paper swags looped around the walls and festooned the booths set up on the edges of the room. Kids of all ages lined up to test their skills in tossing rings around bottles and scooping plastic fish from a tub of water. Kids bobbed for apples and had their fortunes told by a fake gypsy.

In spite of himself, Sam found himself grinning. He’d had fun here. That he remembered.

“See that girlie over there?” the man asked.

“Holy hell! That’s DeeDee Dunn!” gasped Sam. “She was the hottest girl in school. Eric and I both had the hots for her. We called her ‘Double D'”. For a second Sam’s memories made him smile.

“How about that girl?” the old man said, indicating a scrawny girl in the corner. “You ‘member her?”

When Sam saw the girl standing alone next to the far wall of the gym his face lost all color.

“Yeah, you know her all right. Little Scarlet Jackson.” The man’s evil grin turned on Sam. “You boys really taught her a lesson that night.”

Sam made an attempt to leave, but the old man held him firmly. “Yep, you and Eric got yourselves kicked out of the carnival that night. Just watch and remember.”

As Sam looked around the room he saw the 14-year-old versions of himself and Eric heading nervously towards DeeDee Dunn.

“Hey DeeDee,” crooned Eric. “Wanna come hang with me and Sam?”

DeeDee shook her head and gave the boys a polite, but vacant smile.

“Bitch,” whispered Sam. “She never even knew we existed. Thought she was too good for us.”

“Is that why you two turned over the table with the cakes displayed? asked the old man.

“We were just pissed off,” Sam said, watching his younger self help Eric heft the cakewalk table onto its side.

“But why did you two decide to mess with Scarlet?”

Sam watched as he and Eric sidled up to pitiful little Scarlet, smiling like they had something good to tell her. “I don’t know,” Sam replied truthfully. “I guess we just wanted to take our bad moods out on someone.”

When the school principal came charging up to banish the boys from the carnival, Eric grabbed hold of Scarlet’s hand and pulled her out the door with them.

“I don’t need to see this,” said Sam.

“Oh yes you do boy.” The old man cackled. “You need to know one of the reasons why Eric took his worthless life.”

It started out sweet. Both boys lied to Scarlet, telling her how beautiful she was. Eager for any kind of attention, the girl quickly fell under their spell. Eric led the trio to the football field and underneath the bleachers.

“Really,” says Sam. “I remember. Please don’t make me watch this.”

The old man tightened his grip on Sam’s arms, forcing him to watch the attack on Scarlet. The two boys threw the skinny girl on the ground and ripped her clothes off. They taunted her with insults, calling her a skank and a lowlife.

Sam watched as Eric held Scarlet down and then threatened her life if she told on them. Eric stepped aside and gestured for Sam to take a turn. But Sam shook his head, “no.”

“I didn’t do anything!” screamed Sam.

“You sure didn’t,” cackled the old man.”Not a damned thing.” He lunged for Sam, his clawed fingers poised to rip and tear.

Continue reading “Ghouls: All Together Now”

Bats of America

I laughed out loud at this one.

Notes from the U.K.

Truth in Blogging Warning: This post contains no useful cross-cultural information and the incident described is in no way typical of American life.

And with that out of the way,  I’ll refer back, as bloggers do with a look of strained innocence as they post links that drive you deeper into their blogs, to an earlier post about some of the nuttier reasons people call the British emergency services and it reminded me of a time when Wild Thing and I made one of those calls in the U.S.

We lived at the time in Minneapolis, in the downstairs half of a two-family house. That’s in Minnesota. If you’re not sure where that is, take the map of the U.S., fold it in half and look more or less on the fold, just below the Canadian border. Minnesota’s the state curling sweetly around the westernmost of the Great Lakes.

Irrelevant photo: a sign on a public footpath. If you want to get to Sheepdip, turn right. Irrelevant photo: Sign on a…

View original post 1,198 more words

Dr. Phil and the Philanderers

I seldom watch Dr. Phil, but when I do it seems the episode always deals with someone cheating on his or her spouse/significant other. Surely his program deals with other topics, but I only get to see the philanderers. 

Today’s show featured a woman who is cheating on her husband with an old high school flame. I found myself wondering why the husband doesn’t just say “adios, babe!” before riding off into the sunset. Likewise, her boyfriend seems to be waiting on the woman to make up her mind.

I’m not going to weigh in on the morality of the situation, I just wonder how a woman manages to get not one, but two men doing what she wants. Amazing. I can’t get mine to take out the trash.

Dr. Phil, can you help?

Gee, thanks!

Peace, people!

The Corruption of Saint Helen

I took my beautiful mother-in-law, Saint Helen, to lunch at The Edison in Tallahassee today. 

I had an outstanding BLT. She had a strawberry salad. We both had a cocktail!


Saint Helen and her cocktail.
Well, to be fair, Saint Helen only had half of one. I drank every last drop of mine.


Rosewater Pink Lemonade shaken with Bombay Gin is a lovely way to celebrate October 29. Or any other day, for that matter.

Peace, people!

Let’s Talk About Buc-ee’s

Studly Doright, my mother-in-law, Saint Helen, and I made an important discovery on our recent trip home from the Texas Hill Country. No, it wasn’t an actual chupacabra, or a new, hotter than hell type of chili pepper. This was something way cooler and far more easy to digest–the mega convenience store called Buc-ee’s.

I’m not even sure mega comes close to describing just how big these stores are. 


Above is pictured a small part of a Buc-ee’s food court. 
 Coke, anyone?

Buc-ee is a pretty big deal. Even the Travelocity Gnome paid a visit.

Need a souvenir of your Buc-ee’s trip? You’re covered!


I didn’t find a photo of the bathrooms at Buc-ee’s, but trust me on this, it was amazing! I felt like I’d entered the Buckingham Palace of restrooms. It was huge and every stall had its own hand sanitizer dispenser. 

Oh, and as we left we heard the friendly, “Y’all come back now!”

God bless Texas. And Buc-ee’s!

Flight of the Flip Flips

Studly Doright and I just returned from a trip to Gruene, Texas, for a reunion of the Floydada High School class of 1975. 

Always on the lookout for bloggable material, I had the marvelous idea of posting photos of myself on a variety of stops en route to Texas from Tallahassee. 

I started out strongly:

Milton, FL rest stop

Unfortunately, I quickly forgot all about the idea after the second stop. I might’ve been sidetracked by the quotes on the booths. 

TA Truck Stop, Grand Bay, Alabama


Notice I was incredibly proud of my toenails. They’d been painted green to commemmorate Floydada’s team colors. 

Due to heavy rains and cooler temperatures in Gruene, Texas, not a single person got to see my toes at the event. Their loss, right?

The reunion was incredible, though, even without my toes on display.

40 Years of Looking Good

Peace, people.

Remember When


remember when youth
defined our relationships?
who kissed whom, when, why?

remember when life
seemed suspended in bubbles
of the possible?

remember when love
was everywhere, yet nowhere
for all, even you?

remember when fate
was always to be tempted?
damn consequences!

remember sweetest
softly tangled memories,
joy amid regrets.

remember classmates
underneath crinkles remain
life’s anchors, steadfast.

Hangover Haiku

head throbs, stomach roils
nausea threatens to rise;
drunken aftermath.

unwelcome symptoms,
consequences of
over indulging.

should know better now
in fifth decade’s last hurrah
I learned too slowly.


Peace, people! 

I might’ve had way too much to drink at my high school reunion this weekend. 

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