My friends and Editors The D's (Diane and Dorene ) came into my life around book 5 of Athena Lee. They are some of the best parts of my life and my wife and I care very much for them. They are not writers per se but have enriched my life and that of dozens of fellow Authors. They wrote this for a bit of fun.
The Great Turkey Hunt.
November 18, 2016
The sun is out; my grocery list is ready, and this means what? It means I
must sally forth and find that perfect sized turkey for sister and me.
You know the one, not too big because after all, it's just the two of
us, not too small or we won't have any leftovers and the best part -
soup from scratch. It means that I must exhibit my butt in the air
whilst I hang over the freezer and paw through large frozen turkeys
mumbling obscenities. Someone will say “Geesh, lady, stop blocking
Another may remark “Can’t you hang a warning sign over that
thing?” In the meantime, my face will turn red from embarrassment,
smashed and frozen fingers, and my stomach squashed against the freezer
compartment. However, I will prevail because we do love our soup.
We are fortunate in that our shared daughter, Julie, is now responsible
for the ‘Big Dinner’ and all of the accompanying hoopla that goes with
the preparation of said meal. We only have to show up, thank goodness.
November 19, 2016
The great turkey hunt was met with success (hear the crowds roar), but it wasn’t easy.
The old woman girded her loins with her favorite pair of well worn, old
white sneakers, baggy butt jeans, red t-shirt, and a warm fuzzy, blue
jacket. The old woman was into comfort not style, mind you. She tied her
very long gray hair back out of her face with a band since the stuff
flew all over blinding her and tangling her glasses. She grabbed her
keys, shoved her wallet into the back pocket of her baggy jeans, and
finally, remembering her eco-friendly shopping bags, went out the front
door. Carefully she made her way down the front steps into the blinding
The old woman only keeps on lights where she absolutely had
need making the house interior a shady place. She and sister like it
that way, and it keeps the cost down a bit. They aren’t cheap; they’re
parsimonious. She patted the door to her full sized pick-up and unlocked
the door. Grunting, groaning and bitching she pulled herself in. The
drive to the store was uneventful, but the old woman noticed there were
many more vehicles on the road than usual. “Crap,” she mumbled,”
freakin’ holiday shoppers are out.” Thank goodness her favorite country
station hasn’t started playing that cursed Chrismas music yet, she
thought. Bahumbug. Parking for once wasn’t a challenge, and she zipped
the big truck right in near the store front. The old woman grabbed a
cart and got her fingers pinched in the damn thing when she worked it
loose. Sneering, she shoved her eco-friendly bags down on the bottom
rack and toddled off to do her shopping. The vegetables she could shop
for blind-folded or least she could until some smart ass marketing
genius decided to change the whole damn area around and put in fancy
dancy new bins. The old woman hates store changes. She isn’t quite as
stupid as the young marketing geniuses think she is and truly resents
the additional time it takes to get her veggies.
Bastards. The old
woman is deep into her habits and sees any changes in the store as an
inconvenience. Slowly pushing her cart because, of course, she got the
one with the wiggly pulling wheel she made the turn into the meat
aisle. Oh, crap, look at all of the people hanging over the frozen
turkeys. Damn, damn, damn it! Her whole bird would be gone; she just
knew it. She had to make an attack plan on the fly. Should she appear as
a frail, old lady toddling down to the freezer or should she stand
straight and charge in like a linebacker taking out the quarterback?
Neither seemed appropriate because there were too many children in the
lane and they would surely hurt her when she couldn’t dodge them fast
enough. “Crap,” she mumbled. Alright, she would approach the freezer,
casually, slowly and make sure to check out the area. She by-passed all
of the turkeys that were big enough to feed a platoon of starving
soldiers. She also by-passed the fancy dan, uber packaged turkeys. She
was on the hunt and knew precisely what she wanted. She held her breath,
grunted, and leaned over the freezer cabinet. She released her breath
and started to look over the turkeys not spotting her bird immediately.
Damn it. Slowly, carefully, not picking any up she moved the birds
around. Did ya ever see so many Cajun spiced birds before she thought?
Heartburn in spades with those she’d bet. The old woman was forced to
pick up and move several by now, her back was starting to hurt, and her
fingers were cold. There! There it was! THE PERFECT BIRD!
Butter-freakin’-ball had a frozen, ready to cook, pre-seasoned, throw it
in the oven, and bake it bird, right there! Yehaw, you sum of bitches,
she had found it.
The old woman carefully surrounded the bird with her
jacket covered arms. She peeked around to make sure no one was looking
at her cold, hard-won prize. She was prepared to rain hell down on any
that approached her threatening to take her bird. She was old very mean
and ready to defend her prize. The old woman carefully put the booty
into her cart, looked around go see if any were brave enough to follow
her and left the meat aisle. The rest of her shopping still had to be
completed so with sweat running down her flushed face she booked through
the remainder of the store. Well, she tried to book, but being half
blind and trying to read her grocery list speed was not to be had.
Loading up the back of her mighty pickup was a challenge. The bird alone
weighed in at twelve pounds, and by now the old woman’s back really was
in pain, and she was short of breath. She unlocked her beast, crawled
in, and drove home.
When she arrived at home, the old lady backed up the
truck. The old woman’s sister; the gray-haired warrior, was there to
help unload the groceries. The gray-haired warrior wasn’t allowed to
touch the groceries until she saw the golden bird. The gray-haired
warrior praised the old woman for fighting through to the end and
bringing home THE BIRD.
November 24, 2016
The old woman and the gray-haired warrior woke up dreading the day.
Looking out the kitchen window, the old lady wept at what she saw. It
was drizzling with a dark gray overcast sky. “Crap,” she said.”
Ye-freakin’-haw it’s Thanksgiving.”
The day the old woman and the
gray-haired warrior had promised the daughter they would brave the
hoards of holiday drivers and show up for the much appreciated and
celebratory meal. “We must not tarry here at home,” she informed the
warrior. “We must take the big, white, fear inducing pickup and get our
wrinkled butts on the road to the daughter’s house.” “Should I take the
short barrelled shotgun or just the flashbangs.” The warrior woman
asked. “The shotgun ,” replied the old woman. “Too many LEO’s will be
out doing traffic checks, and we don’t want to give them an excuse to
look under the truck bed cover .” They looked at each other in
understanding and nodded in agreement.
The old woman and the
gray-haired warrior shuffled as fast as their decrepit bodies could move
to the fearsome pickup and boogied down the road. The two old ladies
chortled at all of the torqued off holiday drivers that passed them.
They knew in their shriveled old hearts just how angry they were making
the hoards by driving just under the speed limit. If they had to be out
driving today at least, they could have a few laughs. Well, they did,
right up to the point that they couldn’t find the right street to turn
on to get to the daughter’s house. The old woman clenched the wheel
tighter, drove slower, and totally torqued off more drivers speeding up
and down the road. Sweat began to run down her forehead down into the
old woman’s long gray hair. “CRAP!” she growled while gnashing her
teeth. “ She turned the warrior and said, “I can’t see the damn street
sign, can you?” The warrior woman replied, “hell no, I can’t see for
crap, slow down some more.” The old woman slowed down more, and the
speeding drivers began trying to talk to them using hand signals as they
zipped around the formidable white truck. Eventually, frustrated and on
the verge of having an epic battle the two old ladies whipped into a
convenience store parking lot to use – heavens forbid – a phone to call
the daughter to come and guide them to their destination. The old
warrior woman said, “should I take a flash bang with me to get their
cooperation?” The old woman hung her head and groaned. “No,” she said
“just a couple of quarters.”
The daughter arrived in her zippy,
shiny, little car to lead them to her home. Being a sane and reasonable
person, she took one look at the old women and didn’t say a word. She
just smiled and waved, slowly pulling out into traffic. She kept looking
through her mirror checking to make sure the big, white, they can crush
my car with that thing, pick up truck, was still behind her. Driving
slowly ,she led them to her home. After hugs were exchanged the old
woman addressed her and said “ what the f*&^k happened to the street
sign? There is a crap-ton of apartment buildings, and stores on the
other corner now. The friggin’ area doesn’t remotely resemble anything I
remember. I may be old and blind.” she groused, “but I’m not stupid.”
“I need some coffee before I pass out,” she sighed. The old woman swore,
never again would she drive outside of town – jeez , Louise. The old
warrior woman agreed. To home, they would stay never to wander again.
The food was plentiful and deliciously prepared. Many burps and much
heartburn were heard and felt by all. Becoming reacquainted with one’s
spawn and grand-spawn was tiring, but enjoyable. Canines and felines
weaved between many large and small feet waiting to see who would fall
down first. Games were played by children of all ages, pie eating
commenced, and talking over each other was heard. Until, it was time for
the old women to leave. Hugs and leftovers were shared, cheeks kissed,
hugs given again as the old women escaped to the mighty pickup truck.
Grabbing the prodigal son by his collar the old woman dragged him to the
vehicle and the three made like a big white bee and buzzed down the
drive onto the feared highway. The drive home was uneventful for all
were worn out, nerves frayed and strained. The tired party of three
arrived home, unlocked the door and all but fell in. The sun is down
now, eventide is here, cats and chins are fed, and the computers booted
up to see what the online friends chatted about. When you’re an old
woman, you develop a colossal case of nosiness.
What. Do. I. See? A
snippet – that sneaky, underhanded author person posted a SNIPPET. We
missed the posting of the first snippet for Michael Anderle’s next book
The Dark Messiah due out Christmas Day 2016. Curse you author person,
you will be made to pay for your perfidy! The dirty was done whilst the
old women were trapped in transit. For shame, no warning did he give, no
preparation was made before this awesome tidbit was published. We will
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