Scribble Soup for Writers's Block #45: the great outdoors

It's another stinking hot day.
"Let's go bushwalking," Boyfriend says.
"Okay," I mumble in reply, not taking my eyes off the t.v.
In an unusual spurt of energy Boyfriend gets up and showers, while I lounge about.
"Are you ready?" Boyfriend asks 15 minutes later.
"I will be soon," I reply, not budging from my seat.
"Come on, hurry up!" Boyfriend calls from the dining room.
"Well have you packed the water bottles?" I say as I throw on some clothes.

Ten minutes later I ask, "So what's happening with the water?"
"It's coming! Where are the bottles?" Boyfriend asks, not having moved an inch from where he'd been standing.
I point to the bottle sitting on the table to his left, "Oh look, it's a candle disguised as a bottle."
Boyfriend gives me 'the look'. "I guess you want me to fill it up with water now." He says sarcastically, walking to the fridge. He opens the door, stares, then walks away. "We're out of juice. Can you put it on the list?"
I add it to the list, "Anything else you need?"
"Yeah, cereal."
"There's a box on top of the cupboard," I say.
"It's empty."
"Then why isn't it in the bin?" I ask in dismay.
Boyfriend laughs guiltily, "It was easier than throwing it into the bin."
I give him 'the look'. "The bin would have been closer."
Boyfriend snickers even louder.

In the car, Boyfriend gives me his hourly update on the temperature, "I can't believe how hot it is. It's only 28 °C but it feels much hotter."
We arrive at Forest Island. It's stinking hot and I'm covered from head to toe in my anti-leech combat gear. For added insurance, I spray myself with tropical strength bug repellent. Five minutes into the walk, the battery on my camera dies. Without the constant activity of photo taking, my mind is free to analyse the likelihood of a leech attack. I mentally list all the places on my body that a leech can latch on to. I feel exposed and vulnerable. I start to sulk. Boyfriend decides to climb down the ravine to take a closer look at the creek. I calculate the chances of a leech attack. I don't like the odds. I sulk even further. Boyfriend forces me to follow him. So I do, protesting all the way down. It's a beautiful spot, but I am ever vigilant of leeches. I keep my eyes wide open. I am not deceived by the creek's beauty.

We follow the creek until we can no longer do so without getting wet. Boyfriend decides it's time to head back to the track. Our climb is impeded by a patch of stinging nettles. This is not a problem for me, after all I'm covered from head to toe. Boyfriend is wearing shorts. I suggest he places some palm fronds down.
"Good idea," he says. Unfortunately he slips. The buggers get him. He is in pain. We march on. He trips over a loose rock, and twists his ankle. We march on.

An hour later, we return to the car. Boyfriend has a hankering for banana bread. He asks me if I feel like stopping in Deena for coffee.
"No, I'm all sweaty and yukky," I reply.
He doesn't tell me he really wants to stop in Deena, until right before the turn off. With five cars trailing closely behind us, he says, "I really feel like banana bread."
"If you really wanted to stop at the cafe, you could have just said so," I reply.
Without slowing down, Boyfriend takes the turn-off. I hold on for dear life, Boyfriend's camera bag falls to the floor. He turns to me and says, "What? The other cars were right up my arse. I couldn't slow down."

Our stomachs full with banana bread, we decide to stop off at Crystal Waters. Boyfriend discovers that his stunt driving has broken his very expensive camera lens. Now it's his turn to sulk.

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Sunday Scribblings #142: Late

"Yay, the Birthday Girl is finally here and only 43 minutes late," Bestfriend says, clapping her hands as I slide onto the seat beside her.

"It's not my fault. It was the tiger snake."

"What snake?" Everyone asks in unison.

"Well, I was sitting on the sofa watching t.v, when I saw something moving from the corner of my eyes. I turned and it's was a snake crawling on the floor next me. Of course I automatically went into denial and convinced myself that it was stick. Then it reared it's head. That's when I did my superman leap and ran like hell upstairs," I say pumping my arms in illustration.
Everyone laughs.

"I swear the snake followed me, because when I turned around it was at the foot of the staircase. I ran to the phone. I didn't know who to call so I called directory. When the lady asked me who I wanted to be connected to I said, 'I didn't know'. I told her I was trapped in a house with a snake. She didn't know too, but she eventually put me through to the police. I called them and told them my story and they laughed. They then gave me the number for the zoo and snake catcher. I called the zoo but it was after hours and no-one answered, so I called the snake catcher and waited," I pause as the waiter filled my wine glass.

"Well go on. What happened next?" Bestfriend asks.

"When the snake catcher came, he tried to get me to come downstairs to open the door, but the snake was still at the bottom of the staircase. There was no way on earth, I was going down. It was sort of strange because when I usually come home, I leave my keys on the kitchen bench. Today I carried them with me upstairs. I'd left them beside the phone. So snake catcher guy had to get a ladder and climb to my window and break through the safety screen so that I could pass the keys down to him."

"It took him less than 2 minutes to catch the snake. By this time it had crawled to the kitchen. He put a tea towel down and it crawled to it. Piece of advice everyone, if you ever have a tiger snake in your house, put a towel or something down. They'll move to it."

"Are you serious?"

"That's what he told me."

"How'd you know it was a tiger snake?" Bestfriend's boyfriend asks.

"He told me that too. And that everyone is why I am late. Now can I eat, I'm starved."

Sunday scribblings prompt

Scribble Soup for Writers' Block #37: Serendipity

Your word prompt is "serendipity". Have you ever stumbled upon an opportunity by accident...or design?


As I alighted from the tram, I cursed myself silently. I'd overshot my destination again, this time by several stops. It took several more choice swear words before I noticed the store. Actually, what I really noticed was the pair of ruby ear-rings displayed in the window. I pressed closer, mesmerized by the intricate red and black, rose design. I did a little jig on the cold pavement, waving my arms around, until I caught the sales assistant's eyes. I mimed, "price?" through the glass. The lady walked towards the display and turned the price tag over, $149.95.

I couldn't afford that on my lowly student income. Disappointed, I turned around and walked towards the bus stop. It started to rain. Heavily. I fished blindly in my bag for the umbrella and came back empty handed. I dropped the bag to the ground, squatted beside it and ventured where I'd never dare gone before, into the dark recesses of my bag. I pulled out an envelope addressed to me. Curious I opened the envelope and pulled out $50 and a handwritten note.
"Thanks for the loan, sis."
It was from my brother. He'd left the envelope on the kitchen table earlier this week. I'd grabbed it on my way out, put it in my bag and promptly forgot all about it.

It stopped raining. I smiled to myself as I repacked my bag, then something smacked me on the head before falling to my feet. It was a $100 note. I looked around me, searching for the owner. There was no-one around. I picked the note up.

Ten minutes later, I was the proud owner of pair of ruby ear-rings. As I walked passed the store for the last time that day, I finally noticed the shop sign. On the window, painted in large black letters were the words, 'Serendipity'.

Scribble Soup for Writers' Block #40: Self-portrait

What is it about you that makes you different?

* I hate writing about myself, but I've been set a challenge by some of my friends (you know who you are), so here I am.

* I'm allergic to lavender. Despite my skin (namely my face) turning red and splotchy everytime I came into contact with the stuff (and lavender seems to be in everything), it's taken me years to figure this out. The big clue came after I ate lavender chocolate. My body swelled and my neck was covered in tiny black spots. I had to test this theory out a few times, by eating some more lavender chocolate. Yep, same thing. Boyfriend (well he's actually my fiance, but I like to call him Boyfriend) gave me a gift certificate for a spa treatment. Everything they used on me contained lavender. My body was covered in itchy rashes for 3 weeks.

* I'm a keen mountain-biker, who's afraid of speed. Consequently I spend most of my time off the bike.

* I think I'm partially dyslexic. I have a tendency to read things back to front, especially numbers. Despite this, I started my university degree studying geological engineering. It took me 3 years to figure out that I couldn't read a map, let alone be able to visualise these things in 3-D.

* I don't like milk. The only time I drink it is when my body craves it. And the only time my body craves it is just before I come down with the flu.

* I'm a lucid dreamer. Does that make me a control freak?

* I started this blog, because for a week my dreams were filled with writing. I have a short attention span, and find it really hard to complete any writing project, so I thought blogging would encourage me to write everyday. Hmm...

Scribblesoup prompt

Sunday Scribblings #141: I knew instantly...

I knew instantly that I was in trouble. There are many rules where I work but the number one rule is "THERE IS TO BE NO PHYSICAL CONTACT WITH CLIENTS". I was never any good at following rules. My name is Lady Kadaver, Lady K for short and I am an exotic dancer, by choice.

It had started innocently enough. The client had a foot fetish, all I had to do was wiggle my toes, and wave my feet around. For the first ten minutes, he blissfully followed my feet with his eyes, turning his head every so often to track their movement. I was bored, so the devil in me asked, "Why not?" I always had trouble resisting that voice.

And so I complied. I placed my bare feet on his bald head and moved them slowly down his face, kneading his cheeks in the process. The client went from blissful straight to foot fetish heaven, on a trail of drool. I moved my feet back to his bald pate, well away from the drool. Not long after, an angry voice hissed in my ear, "Get up. Now." It was my supervisor, the Devil herself.

She marches me back to the change room. She yells and waves her arms around. I tune out for most of it.
"...you do not touch the clients. They are not to touch you and you definitely do not touch them. He has a foot fetish, so rubbing your feet on his face is the same as you rubbing your v -"
I interupt her with the only thing I could think of to stop her tirade, "Um, you need to stop yelling at me. I think you're starting to turn me on."
She huffs in reply, before saying, "One of these days, your smart mouth is going to get you in a lot of trouble."

It already has. Many times.

Sundayscribblings prompt.

Scribble Soup for Writers' Block # 35: Opposites

Can you think of word combinations that combine two opposites. For example "pretty ugly". Write down as many as you can and put them into a story.

strangely familiar; love-hate; negative affirmation; loud whisper; abnormally normal; opposites attract; flawed perfection; open secret; iced water; never-ending.

"Here try this on," Bestfriend said, thrusting a bright yellow dress into my hands.
"It's yellow," I say in a loud whisper.
"No it's not. It's 'canary' at least according to the sales assistant."
"I'm not wearing yellow'."
"What's wrong with yellow?"
"It's not black."
Bestfriend laughed out loud, "You need some colour in your wardrobe."
"Black is a colour," I tell her.
"No it's not, it's a funeral."
Bestfriend and I have had this conversation many times before. It is our never-ending argument. It wasn't that I was necessarily opposed to wearing 'colour'. I have a love-hate relationship with it. I love colour on other people, I hate it on myself.
"It'll show off your beautiful body," she informs me.
"No it won't. It'll highlight every bump."
"What bump," Bestfriend says.
"This bump," I say sticking my gut out.
"Ah, the flawed perfection, a gut that ignored detection." She announces dropping dramatically onto her knees. Bestfriend thinks she's a poet and comedian. Hilarious.
"I have lots of bumps," I protest.
"Stop with the negative affirmation." Bestfriend has now appointed herself my therapist.
"Okay, I'm positive I have lots of bumps," I say.
"Ha, ha."

We decide to move on to more serious business. Lunch. We head to our favourite cafe.
"Hey look it's Vonnie and she has a man with her," Bestfriend whispers, pointing at a couple sitting nearby.
"He looks strangely familiar," I observe.
"That's because it's Jonothan."
"Who?" I ask looking at her blankly.
"You know, her manager."
"Oh, that Jonothan." I say. "Um, they're kissing. Isn't Vonnie married?" I ask.
"They're both married. Their affair is an open secret around the office."
"It's a secret to me," I say insulted that I'm the last to know.
"And they're complete opposites. She's as 'out there' as you can get and he's...well he's abnormally normal," I add.
"Opposites attract." Bestfriend says nodding wisely.

I take a sip of my iced water, Bestfriend chews noisily. Vonnie and Jonothan walk out of the cafe hand in hand.

Scribblesoup challenges

Scribble Soup for Writers' Block #30: Anecdote

Has something funny...or embarrassing...or scary...or amazing....ever happened to you?

It wasn't until a few hours later that Harry remembered the object that he'd carelessly thrown into the back seat of his vehicle. He'd found it up earlier that night, when the light from his torch had picked up something shiny.
"Hey guys, what do you think this is?" he asked bringing the object closer to the light of the camp fire.
"Jesus Christ! That's a leg bone," Phil cried in disbelief.
Ranger shook his head, "Why are you carrying a leg bone around?"
"It's not human is it?" Harry asked, feeling a little stupid.
"It's human all right, you doofus."
"Where'd you find it?" Ranger asked, reaching for the bone.
"Behind the depot a few hours ago."
"You've been carrying this around with you for hours?"
"Shit, now we have to call the cops. More paper work." Phil muttered.
"I'll radio it in," Ranger said walking towards the car.

The rest of the skeleton was recovered behind the depot shed the next day. It was identified by the serial number on the metal joints (the shiny bit). The bones belonged to an old man suffering from dementia, who had gone missing 5 years earlier.