Category Archives: @swcouture

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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Filed under @graphics_diva, @hwtibbs, @nella22, @paulmtracy, @swcouture, @_Benny_K, Devil, Johnny Cash, June Carter Cash

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt

He was banished to the corner. Again. Seems to be the story of his life.

But he refused to wear pants, and they couldn’t force him, even with…

…bacon on the brain. Thoughts not wavering and with a skillet in tow…

…he stuck his finger up his nose and lamented his sad state of affairs.

Since being banished John Jacob had been trying to figure out

just where his life was headed.

At the same time, upon attempting to find bacon and pants…he heard a sound. Or a bang.

Or even possibly, a clang. It had a distinct ring, but not like a bell had rang. It was definitely not a ding.

The source revealed itself as the chef-shaped kitchen timer, which had fallen onto the floor as its time expired.

John Jacob was relieved. He thought it was his German half-brother, Jingleheimer Schmidt, coming back to finish what he started.

You see, Jingleheimer was a big confectioner. And John Jacob preferred savory. So he shuddered whenever his brother baked.

It’s not that he was bad – no, wait. It was. He put Aleppo Pepper in everything. Including the Chocolate-Dipped Spice Twists

that were ready to be taken out of the oven. The timer had been ringing for 22 minutes. But Jingleheimer was still on his run.

“Let the baking BURN!” said John.

And it did. John cackled, then coughed, in the corner, watching the smoke billow out of the oven. But where was Jingleheimer?

And why, pray tell, did he not put on pants before entering the kitchen this morning? The Inpsectors™ were coming by!

He wasn’t the baker in the family, and the last time he took something out of the oven, it was a disaster. His scars proved it…

John reinserted his finger in his nose, his go-to posture for deep thinking.

John probed his sinus cavity for ideas, trudging through lost notions and manic whims before striking a subterranean concept.

“What if Jingleheimer’s hurt?” John thought. He pulled his pants up and made his way through the smoke to go find his brother.

He found him passed out on the floor overcome by the aroma of burnt buns still clutching plans for Jingle’s Bacon Bun Food Truck.

John grabbed Saran Wrap, put it over Jingleheimer’s mouth, poked a hole, and began CPR. (You never know where a Schmidt has been)

While Schmidt was a terrible baker, he was a masterful flirt. It seemed no woman could resist him.

…and into the black Lincoln Town Car he had been using for his burgeoning limo service.

En route to the hospital, Schmidt stirred from the back seat, a low chortle reverberating in his smoke-filled lungs…

“Who’s this freak?” asked the rich lady with the long black veil that John had forgotten was his fare in the back seat.

“And why’d we stop in that driveway?” she continued. “And now where are we going?” John rolled his eyes, then raised the partition.

“Terribly sorry, ma’am, but we’ll have to make one more stop before taking you to the opera. I’m sure we won’t be…”

Saved by the partition. Jingleheimer would have to deal with the lady’s nagging. John turned the radio up. His favorite jam was on

…the dashboard – strawberry, what was left of his lunch. And now it was nearly dawn. “Man, I’m hungry. Wish I had a…

…piece of toast. Or one of Jingleheimer’s Chocolate Dipped Spice Twists.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the partition.

It was Schmidt. He surreptitiously pulled something from his pocket and flung it at john while the lady was on the phone.

John ducked instinctively, and when he did, he yanked the wheel left, crashing into the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile in the next lane.

The Weinermobile immediately burst into flames. “One dog, well done,” muttered John. He could hear Schmidt & the lady yelling…

…in excitement over the prospect of free hot dogs. John Jacob quickly realized his good fortune as well, and he started yelling.

Everyone was yelling happily. John Jacob, Jingleheimer Schmidt and the old lady went in for a group hug. Then for hot dogs.

THE END

 

“John, Jacob, Jingleheimer, Schmidt.” I used to love that song growing up. So I was psyched at the possibilities for where a story about these two brothers could go. And despite their differences, when it came down to it, John Jacob had his brother’s best interests in mind. And they ended up with hot dogs! So lucky!

Lots of new contributors on this one. Thanks to @swcouture for the photo. And to new writers @rookiephenom, @MusicAdamT, @swcouture and @martinbihl. And of course, thank you to regular contributors @FeliciaCago, @Chrisa_Hickey, @swanieson, @Robotstephe, @nella22, @Pawela04 and @hwtibbs. That was a fun story.

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