Category Archives: @_Benny_K

Black and White

“He’s been here,” one of the detectives said, pointing up. And there it was – the Devil’s silhouette.

Chester’s skin tingled with anticipation; this meeting was the first of many to come. He’d finally meet the man behind the mask…

He’d been close so many times. There was Tulum in the summer of ’98. And Hoboken in the winter of ’04. And Odessa in ’08 and ’09.

Paddling with greater intensity, the canoe neared the entrance to Satan’s Cove.

Chester explored the rock, finding ashes amidst the seagull droppings. He scraped it away and bagged it to take back to the lab.

Chester was an expert in his field of forensic paranormal metaphysics.; an oxymoron to be sure.

One of many in his life. His last name’s Black but he’s white. He expects the unexpected. And his favorite appetizer? Jumbo shrimp.

Chester’s concentration was broken when he became aware of an increasingly strong presence of brimstone in the air.

He paddled away, certain he knew where to go next.

The cove at the far side of the island had been billowing smoke since the expedition started. It was there he would find the….

He would continue his journey far across the sea—to the land of the 1000 trees, in search of the White Lady.

For only she possessed the power to intercept this ungodly work of the Man in Black himself.

The evil Johnny Cash. Composer of great music. Destroyer of Earth. And Chester’s deceased nemesis.

Chester donned his plasma electroscopic lenses. Yep, it was Evil Johnny. He could tell from the

ring of fire.

The fire that burns, burns, burns.

June Carter slowly crept behind Chester. “Hello C, it’s been too long, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Chester’s mouth dropped. “What for, Ms. Carter?” he asked.

Chester had a thing for June. Even though she was just a ghost. Perhaps that’s why Johnny had resurfaced after Odessa.

June was in all white. And Chester put it all together. “Are you the…” he started. “The White Lady?” she interjected. “Yes. I am.”

Of course June was the only one who could control the Man in Black. She took Chester to see Cash and the burning ring of fire.

But when they got there, the ring was gone. And so were all signs of Cash, except his black coat. “Thwarted again,” cackled June.

A furious Chester continued the search, adding the Land of 1000 Trees in ’11 to his list of close encounters with Mr. Cash.

THE END

 

The Devil, Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. And Chester, the oxymoronic detective who was in love with June and hunted down Cash. And June – always looking out for her Johnny, even when they’re ghosts. She kept Chester at bay just enough for Johnny to disappear. Again.

Thanks to everyone who wrote – @nella22, @paulmtracy, @hwtibbs, @graphics_diva, @swcouture and @_Benny_K. Special shout-out to @graphics_diva, who’s a new contributor. I promise I’m normally a lot faster in getting these stories up.

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God Almighty

It descended upon the city, slowly swirling in, high above even the tallest buildings. But what was it?

Marcel looked up and noticed that these clouds were different then the ones he’d been studying. These clouds…weren’t clouds…

It was smoke. Taking another drag on a gigantic cigar, Zeus furrowed his brow at the city.

And then he blew.

But nothing came out but a small gust of air.

Having smoked cigars for many years Zeus’ lungs weren’t all they were in his younger years.

Zeus re-dragged and re-blew with success. The tallest towers disappeared and Marcel knew that he was to blame because

he dared Zeus the night before to explain the weight of smoke. Zeus employed a method learned from Sir Walter Raleigh long ago…

Sir Walter Raleigh – whose exaggerations were legendary – once told Queen Elizabeth I that he could determine the weight of smoke.

Weigh cigar. Smoke cigar, ashing onto scale. Weigh ashes. Difference between weight of cigar and ashes = weight of smoke.

Why a mortal like Marcel was daring Zeus to do anything was a mystery. Marcel forgot that Zeus had a sick sense of humor.

Had Marcel remembered the story of Leda and the Swan, he’d know not to give Zeus any excuse to interact with mortals directly.

But it was too late. The sky was now “thundering,” but Marcel knew better. It was Zeus, with his deep, bellowing, smoker’s laugh.

Zeus had called his bluff, clearly proving his cosmic superiority. Marcel, undeterred, shouted up to the clouds. “I’m not…

“…deterred!!!”

Zeus was clearly willing to do anything, but Marcel was a man of his word. He paced back and forth, thinking of what to do next.

Eventually he decided to call the fire department. “I need the biggest ladder you’ve got,” he said.

Not the type that took kindly to loaning out equipment, the Chief politely told him to eff off. But Marcel, undeterred as usual,…

Pulled out the yellow pages and looked up

“Ladderrific! For ladders to Zeus.” He dialed the number and heard a recording on the other end say: “You…

doofus. The only way to reach Zeus is via the Unending Escalator, located in…

the 7th stall in the 4th floor ladies washroom of the Marshall Field building. Thank you for your inquiry.” Marcel was elated.

But the elation quickly died down, replaced with skepticism. “God, that recorded voice sounded familiar,” he said aloud.

that swan. “There were so many things I didn’t know about her,” Marcel said before making his way to the Unending Escalator.

A mythology professor from the University of Chicago,

his children, all eight of them, all boys, except one, one girl, one little girl who was the key to this big plan

stood on the sidewalk, watching. “Hey you,” Marcel shouted to the U of Chicago professor. “Can you and your daughter come with me?”

“Either we all come or none of us do,” said the professor. Marcel had no choice. “To the Unending Escalator!” he yelled.

Off they marched to Marshall Field’s, Marcel leading the way. Briefly, a group of tourists followed, thinking it was a guided walk.

In time these tourists fell back, captured by the alleged allure of the American Girl store. At State St., the group realized…

they needed a suitable tribute for Zeus. “A virgin? Gold?” asked the professor. “No,” said Marcel. “Zeus has that. We need…”

They had been walking the wrong way for 20 minutes. Marcel thought, “Is the unending escalator even worth it?”

But he trudged on. “We need…,” he stammered. “We need…we need…What exactly do we need again?”

“The list is clear!” screamed the professor. “We need a Ginger, 7 daisies, and a Hellenologophobic. Zeus loves irony.”

The little girl held on to a plush Alf doll, which Marcel grabbed. “This orange mess of ginger hair works. Surely Zeus has no Alf.”

They then passed a Sbarro, spotting Daisies Fuentes, Duke, Irani, De La Hoya, Foote, Duck and Ms. Daisy having their weekly lunch.

“Our seven daisies!” screamed Marcel as he stopped the group in their tracks. “Someone get them!”

The Daisies jumped up and tried to run for the door. In the commotion, they forgot the exit was a pull door. 7 Daisies, check.

“Ay dios mio,” yelled Fuentes, “my triple cheese slice fell on the floor!” Duke, meanwhile was hollering for her cousins Luke & Bo.

The last thing they needed was a Hellenologophobic. “Be on the lookout for a Hellenologophobic, everyone,” asked Marcel.

“What IS that?” asked the girl. “It’s someone who’s afraid of logos with Hellen in it,” said Marcel. “Duh.”

Marcel thought, “distractions.” All of the sudden the sky changed & it was a massive haboob.

He was mistaken. “Actually, it’s someone afraid of Greek terms,” the professor chimed in. “So like a Roman?” asked his daughter.

A roman or things like aeropostle or anthropology.

As they got to Marshall Field’s, a prison bus drove by. “Look!” screamed the girl, pointed frantically. “It’s Roman Polanski!”

“That’ll do,” said Marcel. “Stop that bus!!” Ms. Daisy, trailing a little behind the rest of the group, jumped in front of the bus.

The haboob was gaining strength & Marcel was the only one who showed concerned.

Thankfully the bus stopped as there is nothing worse than a smushed Daisy! Out stepped the elusive Roman

as the professor guarded his kids. “Stay away!” But Marcel needed a Hellenologophobic, aka a Roman, so Polanski fit the bill.

“Come with us Mr Polanski and all will be well,” said Marcel.

The haboob kept building as Marcel tried to get the ginger, the 7 Daisies & Roman the Hellenologophobic to the Unending Escalator.

Oddly enough the escalator had moved to just inside the door so no one was able to escape its clutches.

First up was Roman, then Alf, a few Daisy’s the professor and the kids.

Then the rest of the Daisies, and bringing up the rear was Marcel.

Ms. Daisy was confused. “Where are we going sir?” she asked Marcel. But Marcel didn’t answer. He kept shoving her up the escalator.

When they reached the top waiting for them was

Zeus. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. He exhaled deeply, parting the haboob. “These are for you,” said Marcel, sheepishly.

It was as Robert Plant imagined. A Stairway to Heaven. But to what end? A bunch of flowers in a dust storm hardly seemed worth it.

Zeus looked around. “Ginger, check. 7 Daisies, check. And Roman Polanski??” he asked as he put the Stairway to Heaven record on.

“Damn right,” said Polanski in between Plant’s chorus. Marcel tried to shut him up so he could explain Polanski’s relevance.

“He’s our Hellenologophobic,” explained Marcel. “You know, because he’s ‘a Roman’?” He used air quotes for emphasis.

Suddenly they all started singing along to the song.

“…And she’s buying a stairway to heaven,” Zeus, Marcel, the professor, his 8 kids, Alf, the 7 Daisies and Roman Polanski crooned.

And off into the mist they all went.

THE END

 

Ha! That was an amazing story. It was so funny. One of the better ones we’ve written, and we’ve written some pretty good ones. I’m really happy for Marcel – he made Zeus happy. And let’s face it, if you’re given the option of making Zeus happy or making Zeus upset, you probably want to go with making him happy. So good for him. And good for the 7 Daisies. I’m kind of jealous of them getting to go to Sbarro’s for weekly lunch. But the person I’m definitely NOT jealous of? Roman Polanski. He served a purpose.

 

Thanks to myself for supplying the photo. Just kidding. Kind of. And thanks to all of the writers. You guys really brought it. @nella22, who almost always is one of the first ones to jump in and always makes me laugh. @officerpupp, who’s a newb but acted nothing like one. @FeliciaCago, who tried as hard as she could to end the story after 4 lines, but we wouldn’t let her. @swanieson, who stuck with me all the way to the end to wrap things up. @jsetlak, owner of the triple-tweet, who this time came through with the quintuple tweet. @hwtibbs, whose obscure references has me googling stuff all the time. @Chrisa_Hickey, who’s great at cutting right to things. @_Benny_K, who’s getting more involved each week, which is awesome. @jimmydoestea, who can tweet all pronouns and I’ll still laugh. @vnarvasa, who scolded me for not giving her a heads up that I was writing a story. And last but not least, @rickmurray, who snuck a line in right at the end that led us to a different story ending.

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Star Crossed

“Why you gotta be frontin’?” she yelled as her friends and ponies tried to hold her back.

This was starting to irritate Luna, who had been living w/ this pressure for the past 5 years. Running into Star, her stomach turned

beneath her purple dress. But she couldn’t let Star know that. Instead, she kept yelling, puffing out her chest, acting tough.

“Take that nasty ass blonde weave outta my face. You ain’t foolin’ no one, biatch,” she continued.

Luna lunged at Star, grabbing her hair. Pony, the pink pony, tried to separate them. “My hair!” screamed Star. “Give it back!”

Luna waved the weave defiantly as Star watched in horror, hairless. No one knew why Luna was livid, just that she was.

“Who did you sleep with to get to model the ball gown?” Luna whined. She was stuck in a jumper that was more appropriate to Skipper.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” sneered Star. “Yes I would,” responded Luna candidly. “That’s why I asked.” Star was caught off guard.

“You always think you’re so much smarter than everyone, Luna,” said Star. “But if you’re so smart, how come I’m in the ball gown?”

Mother knocked on the door. “Star, honey, please open up. Maybe you should put the dolls down and come to dinner with us.”

“My precious… my precious unicorn ponies,” Star mumbled incoherently. Then, louder, “Coming, mother. Just a second.”

Star’s mother worried about her. Star didn’t leave the house much, and she was always trying to shave Luna, their cute Pomeranian.

In fact, ever since she’d fallen asleep while watching a Jem marathon, Star hadn’t been the same. Ears raw from the many rounds…

of ear pulling, she’d taken to walking around the house in bejeweled stirrup pants. Her homework was signed Jerrica Benton. It…

reminded Mother of her Aunt Jeanne, upstate in a sanitarium. Poor Jeanne – half Carol Burnett, half Ethel Merman. Mother wasn’t…

about to let another daughter end up like Jeanne, not again, not again…

Not after she already lost Astor, her oldest. Most days, you could find her staring at doors, trying to open them with her eyes.

“Kids!” Mother yelled. “Time to go to Olive Garden!” Mother and Star went outside, but Astor stood still, staring at the doorknob.

Astor petted Luna. “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” Mother gave up and promised bread sticks.

Star came back inside to get Astor and dragged her away from Luna. But when they got outside, Mother was nowhere to be found.

They searched for her inside and out, noticing her car was still in the driveway. Where could Mother have “flown” to this time?

Luna heard Star mumbling to herself, “mommy in the can… mommy… the garbage.” Luna’s eyes widened in horror. She runs towards

their garbage can, behind the car. Tears are welling up, in her eyes as she reaches to open the lid. She gasps, shocked by what she

just realized – Luna, the Pomeranian, not only understands what humans say, but can move around like one too. Star’s jaw drops.

Hiding inside of the garbage can, was her mother, Luna always feared this day would come. Her aunt Jeanne had the same

…fate. Star is stunned. Like a robot she starts tweeting feverishly instead of calling 911. All of the sudden…

she gets a DM from her father, who had been in prison for the past 10 years and was now…ON TWITTER?!

Luna can’t help noticing the perplexed look, on Star’s face. What’s wrong with her; and why hasn’t she called for help? Then

without any warning their mother jumps out of the garbage can, tears all of her clothes off, running down the street screaming…

…”I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!” to which Luna (now human form) and Star looked at each other and shrugged. Meanwhile, Father was

contemplating, as he braids his lover’s hair. Should I tweet her? Such a delicate child; but she needs to know, I’m in love with…

in love w Ricky Martin… He bangs, he bangs! Here we go! Closet drummer, too. He starts to tweet her &…

then gets distracted by THE HONEY BADGER! Like the Honey Badger he said, “I don’t care. I don’t give a sh*t!”

“Whoa watch out, says that bird (from a bird’s eye view). Star still hasn’t heard from her Dad, but she starts to hear drums…

not just any kind of drums but a super clean drum line. Snares, Tenors, Bass. The whole shebang. Well it is that time of year…

Luna looks at Star & says, “Is today a holiday?” Rounding the corner, on their street, is a fully dressed marching band, led by…

Mother, in marching gear. “What happened to the bread sticks from Olive Garden you promised?” asked Star. Astor was dumbfounded.

“In a minute,” Mother yelled in between the first and second verse of Poker Face. Star and Astor sang along, drawn in by the beat.

Star didn’t notice mom leading the band w/breadsticks, in hand. After the final verse, she threw the bread sticks at Star saying…

What a day… we need to get those bread sticks from the Olive Garden and get ready for Shark Week. Tired, they hugged &…

peeled away from the marching band. They jumped in the car, headed to Olive Garden, & ate unlimited salad and bread sticks.

THE END

 

Whoa. Just whoa. I don’t even know what happened in this story. It was really hard to follow, and normally I’m pretty good at keeping the storyline on track. What started out as a fight turned into a kid’s imagination, which then turned into a streaking Mom, a human-like Pomeranian, Ricky Martin and unlimited salad and bread sticks at Olive Garden. I could barely keep up. All I know is Astor and Star are two lucky girls for finally being able to chow on those delicious, garlicky logs of heaven. I’m jealous.

Thanks to @kikiandkyle for the photo, which started this wild tale. And thanks to all those who wrote. The vets – @nella22, @Chrisa_Hickey, @jimmydoestea and @hwtibbs – you guys always make me laugh. And we had a bunch of newbs – @_Benny_K, @javilabbe, @vnarvasa, @honey_badger_, @Guert – which is awesome. You guys carried the end of the story. Hope you all contribute again next time.

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