Posts Tagged ‘Trifecta’

Packing, packing, packing. I should be packing.

Stress. *sigh*


I should be packing. I should be cleaning. I should be packing.

Why not? Because I’m too stressed out.

That’s why not.

There’s a finite amount of time, and a mountain load of stuff to deal with.


I don’t even know where to start! Every time I think I’ve made a dent, it’s like it’s just found somewhere else.

I climb over once, just to slide down the other side. When I look up, there’s another mountain waiting for me.

I thought I had some inroads made; I really did.

The one main artery that bisected the space collapsed.

Now that part’s cut off completely.


I hope there wasn’t anything there when it happend. I’ll probably never know.

I honestly didn’t think it would stick. They threatened me repeatedly, but I figured nothing would ever happen.

Until it finally did.

And now they tell me I have to move.

The world is ending in three days.


I’m running in circles. If I had a tail, I’d be chasing it.

I can’t do it! I can’t!

I don’t know where to start. There’s no end in sight.

I wanted to ask for help, but I’m too proud. And now look where it’s gotten me.


A lifetime to sift through. 3 days.

I can’t do it. I can’t.


That’s all they see, I know.

That’s what they think, I know.

They try not to show their disgust, I know.



My world is ending in 3 days. I have to move.

I am paralyzed; overwhelmed; defeated.

Because of it. That stuff.


Maybe more will collapse and bury me beneath; cocooned in memories.

That’s it!

I can’t do it. I can’t leave. I won’t leave.

They won’t find me, and it won’t matter.

I see my goal. I hope it shifts. Here it comes; as if on cue.

Ahhhh. I’m safe.

But I can’t breathe-



The prompt for Trifextra’s week 23 is “the world will end in three days.”

Leave me a comment to let me know what you think I’m talking about! 😆

PS- edtited to share that this is fiction. I, personally, am not packing. 😀 But I am pretty sure that if I only had three days to pack and move, I might well be feeling all this. 😆


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“Ygron pyr. Igron pyr. Greek fire. Sheesh. You’d think they could pick one name and stick to it, ” Frank muttered under his breath.

“Ygron pyr, ignite!

Igron pyr, take flight!

Greek fire, demands the fight!

Count once more

to even the score,

Live another day

to enter the fray.

To be true and succeed

the enemy must bleed,

All at one time,

the fire is divine!



Take flight!

Ygron pyr, weapon of lore

Igron pyr, even the score 

Greek fire, extinct no more!”

“Shit, Macy? Could you talk in a language I can hear? I mean, understand? When you go all crazy rhyme-y like that, it’s like you’re getting your inner witch on, and I can’t help tune out. It’s seriously like I can’t even hear you unless I concentrate real hard, and then it’s like the earth is laughing beneath my heavy feet, which totally makes no sense at all, whatsoever. And then, in that moment, I lose myself, all wrapped up in the pleasures of the world.

Damn. I really am losing my marbles. I don’t even know where that last bit came from. Seriously?” Frank snorted. “It’s like I’m channeling Smashing Pumpkins or something. I think we’ve been on this stake-out too long. Or we need new music. Or both.”

He gently shook Macy, trying to get her to stop chanting. Eyes wild, Macy’s arms rose above her head, swirling back and forth, as if to conjure spirits from the dead. Dropping suddenly, her hand snaked over the gear shifter and grabbed Frank’s arm with a vice-like grip.

Frank was getting worried. He had never seen her freak out this many times in one day. And he hadn’t ever seen her hair smolder, either. He had a bad feeling that even with his munitions expertise, he might not be able to diffuse the ticking bomb sitting next to him in his car.

“Frankie,” Macy rasped, “I’m sticky. Next time, remind me to pack some wet wipes.”


It’s Trifecta’s 33rd weekly writing challenge! To celebrate, they’ve issued 3 different challenges. If you click on the Trifecta link, you can see all three.

I must confess to being a sucker for a good challenge. If you’ve been reading along, you’ve noticed that each week since I’ve started, I’ve used the prompt within a continuing story, Gunz-N-Roses. Initially, I thought I would write three different parts to this ongoing saga. And then I thought, “What’s the fun in that?” 😆

Yep. You guessed it. I got lazy issued myself the challenge of working all three prompts into a single post that made some kind of sense. Tell me what you think!  😆

I’d like to say all of this was original content; alas, Frank had other ideas. Part of this week’s offering comes to you courtesy of the Smashing Pumpkins.

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As inconspicuously as she could, Macy altered the angle of her head so she could more clearly see the movement she’d caught out of the corner of her eye. A wild giggle threatened to escape, as she was torn between throwing herself out of the car or giving a resounding slap.

“Hey, babe. Roll down your window and take it.”

“Really?” Macy was on the edge of losing what little control she had left.

“Really? You leave me hanging like that and then bring me cake?!” Sparks nearly flew as her window opened. She momentarily debated whether or not to unlock the door for him.

Frank came around and opened his door. As he slid across the seat, his jeans made the sticking sucking sound of weather too hot for anything but frying eggs. He grimaced. Not only were his jeans sticking to the car seat, but they were stuck to him, too. He’d have to deal with impacted nether regions later.

Right now, they had work to do.

Frank leaned back and started the car, hoping the air conditioning would kick in soon. It wasn’t just Macy licking frosting off her fingers that had him hot under the collar.

“Sorry about that back there. Guess I forgot to turn my headset off. Besides, did you hear the conversation while I was going? I was hoping you would catch what they were saying. Sounded like it was coming from the flower shop, via the duct work. Big problem doesn’t even begin to describe this. Nope. This is worse than a pen of pig slop in the June monsoon. This is the gift that’s gonna keep on giving. Yepper. It’s gonna be more trouble than Charlie Sheen attempting therapy. It’s gonna be like-”

“Frank!” Macy shouted, to get his attention.

“Honestly,” she swore in her head, “He’s like a dog sometimes; totally got a one track mind unless he’s redirected to break the silly spell.” She’d sure give him a new bone to follow.


Have you missed Frank and Macy?  I have! 😆

It’s week 28 of Trifecta’s writing challenge.

Clean- Part 1

Cheap- Part 2

Brain- Part 3

Scandal- Part 4

Observe- Part 5

Confidence- Part 6

Thunder- Part 7

Enigma- Part 8

Trouble- Part 9


This week, we give you:

WILD (adj)

1 a : living in a state of nature and not ordinarily tame or domesticated <wild ducks>
b (1) : growing or produced without human aid or care <wildhoney>
(2) : related to or resembling a corresponding cultivated or domesticated organism
2 a : not inhabited or cultivated <wild land>
b : not amenable to human habitation or cultivation
Please remember:

Good luck, and we’ll see you back on Friday.

This week’s word is: wild.

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She relentlessly tapped her arm rest; her fingers beating out a cadence like a drummer boy going into battle. It was a rare event that got her fingers moving without conscious thought. Macy was usually pretty well put together; usually she was totally in control.

But Frank? He got to her. He threatened to pull the string that would unravel her completely. Her years with the Service somehow, surprisingly, didn’t prepare her for this partnering.

There was something about Frank that got under her skin. She’d learned to put up with his nonsensical jabbering. He was a talker, that’s for sure. Normally, she couldn’t get him to put a cork in it.

And now he’d gone silent- completely silent. Not a drip-drop of final off-loading; not a sigh of relief. Nothing.

“Trouble. This is what this is, she thought. Nothing but trouble.”

Macy couldn’t get the ringing of Frank’s silence out of her head.

“What the heck is he doing?! He should have been out or at least answered by now. I can’t go on reconnaissance and get him. I’ll never get away with it. My shift is over and they’ll know something’s fishy if I end up back inside tonight. They know I had plans and couldn’t attend the opening.”

Macy’s mind began to crazily run away from her.

What if………. what if they had caught him mid-stream? Surely she would have heard that, too, wouldn’t she have? What if they’d caught him mid-zip and he couldn’t actually say anything because of the pain? What if he made it out of the bathroom, only to be accosted and slathered with cake?

“Come on, Frank! Not now! I was just starting to sort you out!”

Macy wiped an impromptu escaping tear. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, and smacked her head- again- into her window. If they got out of this alive, she’d ask for a different car; one that wasn’t going to give her endless concussions.


Yep! It’s that time again! It’s week 27 of Trifecta’s writing challenge. I’m thinking about making a page for the Frank and Macy saga, but I haven’t decided on a title yet. I’m sure it’ll come to me, but until it does, I’ll be stuck editing the links.  😆

Clean- Part 1

Cheap- Part 2

Brain- Part 3

Scandal- Part 4

Observe- Part 5

Confidence- Part 6

Thunder- Part 7

Enigma- Part 8

Wild- Part 10

1 : the quality or state of being troubled especially mentally
2 : public unrest or disturbance <there’s trouble brewing downtown>
Please remember:

Good luck, and we’ll see you back on Friday.

~~~~ And, because life is a soundtrack and you’ve been bored brave enough to scroll all the way to the bottom of this post, I bring you Trouble. (Coyote Ugly, anyone?)  😆


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1) I could live on popcorn. But not the microwaved stuff.  That stuff smells like barf and makes me gag. I don’t like hot air popped popcorn, either. Most of the bagged stuff doesn’t pop well, either. The only (as in, singular) kind I really like is Orville Redenbacher. And then I microwave it. Perfect! 

2) I have a large family. My immediate family (me, hunny, and 4 kids) is small in comparison. I would have at least one more, but well, you know how that goes. My son wanted a brother for the longest time and I kept telling him to put his order in with Daddy. That ship has sailed, though, and it really wasn’t terribly hard to get rid of the baby stuff. Did I mention the youngest turned 8 yesterday?

3) Not only were some of my kids born in the water, but we went with a lotus birth with the last one. While I could have encapsulated the placenta with a lotus birth, I figured we were doing enough with the herbs/salt. The biggest thing with this is getting the herbs right so that your pets don’t follow you around sniffing, thinking you are going to give them a meaty treat. Yes, I’m on the crunchy side on the granola scale.  😆  

 4) I’ve fallen down a mountain. With a baby in a sling. On my back. I don’t think I need to say anything else besides it wasn’t intentional. And, we both lived to tell about it. Plus, I’m still embarassed. You can ask her, but she’s 8 now, and she won’t remember. Thank goodness.

Discuss.  😆


Links for the above points: 



One on the variations of the granola test: http://www.mothering.com/community/t/615062/crunchy


Trifextra: Week Fifteen weekend challenge!

Three truths and a lie.
33 to 333 words.

Bring it.

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Frank snuck a sideways look out of the corner of his eye and saw that Macy was still wrapped up in herself. For the time being, her car gymnastics seem to be keeping her narcolepsy at bay, but she was still in outer space somewhere.

He tapped his earpiece to make sure it was on and that he wasn’t missing something. Silence. “But damn, that Marisol has a hot voice. Too bad she’s not as sexy as she sounds. At least she’s quiet, so it looks like I can slip away.”

It was time for Frank to answer the call of nature. He missed the days when going on a stakeout meant bottles instead of cups with lids. This stopping and starting bit was about to get old. He’d had to change his bathroom habits once he got a female partner, and bottles weren’t as multi-purposed as they used to be.

Not wanting to alert Macy, Frank silently opened his door, slid out, and then closed it with a soft click. It was time to ditch protocol and enter the target of the stakeout.

“It’s the closest building,” Frank reasoned. “Plus, with all the meatheads here to observe the grand re-opening, no one is going to notice me anyhow.”

While Frank despised the catch-name for his team, the MnMs, he did find the name of the businesses amusing. “Gunz-n-Roses. Ha. At least they didn’t use something really stupid like ‘Pansies-n-Pumpin,” ‘Flowers While You Weight’ or ‘Get Buff and Fluff.'”

“Nah, Gunz-n-Roses is an ok name, as names go,” Frank decided. He still hadn’t figured out the real connection between the two businesses, outside of newly married owners and the ability to accept large freight items.

With the big bash going on, the owners under surveillance wouldn’t notice him oozing in to use the facilities. Frank flexed his muscles, to help him fit in with the crowd. It was time to infiltrate and let loose his liquids.


To read the first four parts of the story, check out these links:

Clean- Part 1

Cheap- Part 2

Brain- Part 3

Scandal- Part 4

Confidence- Part 6

Thunder- Part 7

It’s week 23 of Trifecta’s writing challenge.

This week’s word is:
ob·serve verb \əb-ˈzərv\

1: to conform one’s action or practice to (as a law, rite, or condition) : comply with

2: to inspect or take note of as an augury, omen, or presage

3: to celebrate or solemnize (as a ceremony or festival) in a customary or accepted wayPlease remember:

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Everyone crashed out,

Sleeping on the couch,

No one remembers;

No one can vouch.

Slowly awaking to

Cackles and taunts,

It rumbles and shatters,

Poking and flaunts.

Awareness trembles,

Opening one eye at a time,

There is no recollection

Of the actual crime.

Stumbling with a cry,

They all scurry;

Clamoring for the door,

Frantic and in a flurry.

Oppressive and sickening,

Outside in the gloom,

They raise their heads slowly,

Afraid of facing the doom.

With a crunch it straightens,

And drags them to their fates,

Without a look behind,

The scandal awaits.


This is my second entry for week 22 of Trifecta’s writing challenge. My first entry can be found here.

This week we’re back to just one word but it’s the third definition we’re looking for and we’re asking that you use it exactly as it appears below.

As always, we wish you well.

scan·dal noun \ˈskan-dəl\
1 a: discredit brought upon religion by unseemly conduct in a religious person

b: conduct that causes or encourages a lapse of faith or of religious obedience in another
2: loss of or damage to reputation caused by actual or apparent violation of morality or propriety : disgrace

Please remember:

This week’s word is ‘scandal’.

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