To get things started, I thought I would have a contest of sorts with a prize from my artshop (1 item--your pick, with the exclusion of original paintings).
I have a list of words and the two people who come up with the cleverest paragraphs, are the winners. The list:
gumshoe, peanut butter and jelly, galoshes, torrential rains, umbrella, swagger, dame, stormy, weiner dog, weave, stillettoes
Here's my example:
It was a typical dark and stormy afternoon, torrential rains. I had parked it on the curb, knowing the suspect, that dame with the basketball swagger and bad weave, would hit the intersection walking her weiner dog at 12:50 on the dot, just like she did every day. She wasn't the brightest bulb. And it showed. Because her movements were like clockwork.
I opened my sack lunch, a bit crushed from its place in my side pocket, the wax paper coated with peanut butter sludge. I brown-bag it. I'm a gumshoe. Its's how we do things. Peanut butter and jelly, no surprise. I made it myself.
I had gotten 2 bites into the sandwich, when I spotted that pink umbrella, the mincing step of those white stillettos, from the corner of my eye. She was early! 12:48 on my dial. Something was up and I didn't like it one bit...(stay tuned)
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Now it's your turn! Post on my blog your version of these words and I will pick a winner in a few days.
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rtisan is UpFront
23 comments:
Ok, I had to take your challenge, even though I haven't really done creative writing since those classes back in junior high and high school. Well, I take that back...I guess I have used my creative writing when my hubby and I were wooing one another long distance.
So here goes:
Even in the middle of the torrential rains that overwhelm our village every spring, she still refuses to wear galoshes while she walks her little wiener dog, Gumshoe. She’s quite a dame, she is; stormy weather and all. Oh she’ll carry an umbrella…you know the fancy schmancy kind, with the pattern that looks like a Burberry weave…but her stilettos win out every time over the galoshes. She thinks galoshes are only for sticky little kids who smell like peanut butter and jelly, and hold contests to see who can jump into the biggest puddle and make the biggest splash, all for the chance to swagger and boast of their amazing abilities.
Angie
LOVELY blog! OK - here's my shot at the challenge - although I LOVE Angie's!
I'm a gumshoe in stillettoes; a stormy dame with a swagger. Chasing my prey I weave between the torrential rains like a weiner dog in galoshes, sporting my umbrella. I stick to him like peanut butter and jelly...
Here's one from another Angie:
I watched Dame Belinda swagger and weave under the weight of our amp as she worked to set up our gig. Our band, Torrential Rains, was opening for the famous blues sensation Gumshoe. The mood in the club was stormy since the Dame stepped on the club owner's weiner dog, Galoshes, with her stilettoes. I was NOT going to get involved in the drama; instead, I sat under an ornate umbrella, part of the decor, while I ate a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
My entry:
The galoshes of a dozen giddy children splashed through what the torrential rains had left behind. It was kind of strange seeing them march off to school with their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, swinging their umbrellas as if nothing had happened. For the adults, the looming stormy skies were a quiet reminder of how delicate this life we weave is. There was still debris scattered throughout the neighborhood. I remembered watching a weiner dog and a pair of stilettoes float past during the flooding, hoping the owner wouldn't follow. Next door, a car pulled up with a slick guy dressed like a gumshoe and some blonde dame. I gave them a half hearted smile before retreating inside to face my own muddy troubles.
This was fun! Thanks :)
WOW! what great stories! I want to read more, like what is going to happen
I always wanted to be a gumshoe, but today, was willing to reassess my priorities. Torrential rains and me without my umbrella and galoshes. Bad day for this dame to wear stillettoes. My thoughts as stormy as the weather, I continues to keep my camera on the mark. An unsuspecting cheating husband with a weiner dog swagger, one that tries to pretend to be a bigger dog than he is. Tell-tale alcohol weave in his stride, I'm sure his wife will want to lace his next peanut butter and jelly sandwich, lovingly prepared, with cyanide.
By CraftyChris
Oh to be a kid again, growing up in New York City is straight from the pages of a sitcom manuscript. Can you just see it? A stormy April morning, Ms. Bliss the 7th grade english teacher makes her way through the torrential rains, oversized umbrella in hand ankles a-wobble, veins visibly bulging atop her feet as she makes her way in off-season white stilettos. But, in Astoria Queens, circa 1984 she is quite the classy dame. Mr. Gomes the resident gumshoe stands outside his classroom eyeing the rowdy masses as they weave their way through the paint chipped hallways. The freshman are blatantly obvious; weiner dogs in a pack of angry wolves. Awkwardly toting lunch sacks with their names neatly ascribed; a capri sun, box of raisins and peanut butter and jelly I'm certain. The outcasts make their way, with rose colored, pimple pocked cheeks, checkered flannels and jeans with worn knees neatly tucked into their hunter green galoshes. Perhaps it was more like a horror movie... scratch that first line.
what a word choice, this was fun-i needed some brain calisthenics this morning.
tameka
WolfLodge.etsy.com
I walked in to work today, & enjoyed the rain, so your contest is well-timed. Here is my entry:
Torrential rains always bring out the romantic in me. A stormy day is a welcome friend, as comfortable & as familiar as an old shirt, or a peanut butter & jelly sandwich & a cup of cocoa. An umbrella is foreign, an insult to nature’s intent; rather I prefer to gaze up at the clouds & thank them for their gift, arms outstretched, luxuriating in the sharp, prickling stillettoes of raindrops on my face, as they rush to greet the earth again.
No galoshes for me, no drunken weave around the puddles & pools & piles of water frolicking in the low places where they are happiest. No squealing skipping swagger, no dodging dame decrying the damage to her ‘do, with a newspaper slung over her hair. I notice the colorful ad with the photos of weiner dogs on the page as it darkens with the spatter of the drops, & I am drawn closer to discover the identity of the advertiser as the paper-hatted stranger twitters by. I chuckle at my compulsive curiosity, like a washed-out gumshoe who cannot stop looking for clues, even in the rain.
Dame woke up one stormy morning. She sighed and watched the torential rains drip down her window. She yawned. Dame swaggered over to her mirror. "You are the prettiest weiner dog in the world," she said to herself. She blushed at her own compliment and wagged her tail. Dame's human brought her breakfast, Dame immediatly jumped on the couch and started growling. "What is this!!! I refuse to eat garbage!!" Her human quickly replaced the recycled ingredients with a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich on whole wheat, no crusts. "That's more like it," Dame thought.
After breakfast Dame had a schedualed hair appointment. She was getting her weave done and was excited for the highlights she had been considering getting. The only thing stopping her was what shoes to wear. The gumshoes were terrible. "Take them off!" she barked and snarled at her human. Then there was tragedy; she was missing a stiletto. There was absolutely no way she was going out in public with only 3 red stilettos on! She could not, would not, go out unless her feet were covered.
Dame sat under the awning of her apartment building; waiting for her human to get her a taxi. She refused to move. "I can't believe she made me wear these combat boots! I look like a fool!" She tried to scratch behind her ear but the galoshes were too heavy and she couldn't lift her leg.
When the taxi was summoned, the stormy rain began to hammer down. Her human whistled at her to get in the car. Dame did not move.
"If she thinks I am getting wet, then she is highly mistaken" the little dog thought. So, she waited until the human submissivly tucked Dame under her umbrella and carried her to the taxi. "It is so hard to find good help these days" thought Dame.
tough one!
here you go:
Jules sat down to pull the crusts off his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, now half-squished from prolonged residence in the side pocket of his cargo pants. His wiener dog, Dame Edna, pawed plaintively at his shin, garnering the unwanted bits for her efforts. They waited in an unused shop’s doorway, away from the torrential rains, Jules on an abandoned milk crate and Dame Edna at his feet. It had been stormy for days— indeed, it seemed to Jules that he hadn’t seen the sun in so long that he scarcely remembered its brightness; could barely recall the warmth of its rays.
Jules was still hungry after the sandwich, and the crusts hadn’t done much to dampen Edna’s ravenousness either. Waiting was the hardest time to be hungry, with nothing else to focus on but that gnawing pain, sharp as stilettos. Well— lately, there was the raw cold, and the dampness seeping in through the hole in his galoshes—that was something else…
He watched as the doors to the police station across the street finally opened and a group of men in dark trench coats emerged, each carrying an enormous black umbrella. On the steps, the umbrellas were opened and lifted in unison, like a great group of twirling ballroom skirts unfurled all at once. Jules watched the men weave down the sidewalk, his eyes locked on the gumshoe in the brown fedora, the unmistakable swagger differentiating him from the other detectives.
“Daddy!” Jules whispered, and Edna whimpered, her deep brown eyes gazing up at her boy, unable to understand the reason for his tears but well aware of the sadness behind them.
This is for peaseblossomstudio who could remember her password:
peaseblossomstudio says:
Didn't post this on your blog because I can't remember MY blog password (go figure!).
Cute idea. Here's mine:
Gary the Gumshoe swaggered down 5th Avenue on a stormy day. Even with the torrential rains, his style was evident in his designer umbrella and galoshes. He was on his way to meet up with a 5th Avenue socialite who had a case for him. She was one of those dames that wore stilettos, even while lounging. As he attempted to weave in and out of all the people going about their business, he tripped on a frantic little wiener dog and landed in the street on top of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which he had packed for lunch. He landed just in time to see a city bus bearing down on him. The End
It's hard sometimes to be a gumshoe in stillettoes. But I'm the kind of dame who loves her red peep toe 40's platforms , who loves the slight swagger, the sheer femme fatale sexiness that can only come with fancy footwear.
So even on the most mundane jobs I wear my gladrags, and this afternoon was no different . I waited outside the flophouse in the torrential rains, the stormy winds, shielding my gams as best I could. I may eat a peanut butter and jelly lunch , I may weave around the streets like a weiner dog chasing a rabbit, but no gauche galoshes for me.
That was FUN! Thank you .
marion
'Call yourself a gumshoe?' growled the tall blonde in the stilettoes, 'I knew that it was going to rain', she continued, 'I could smell it in the air. But stilettoes are a fashion statement, and I wouldn't be seen dead in galoshes. So no, I ain't no dumb blonde, I just dressed for the occasion, not for the weather'.
'Wanna share my umbrella?' The short, fat, raincoated man looked up at her quizzically ' A dame could drown in these torrential rains.' 'Is that a threat', she said in a voice dripping with venom. 'No', he said, 'just an observation'. 'Hmph', she grunted. 'And is that a weiner dog in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?' 'I'm a peanut butter and jelly man myself', he replied. 'just waiting for this storm to pass and I'll be going home for a beer and a sandwich.' So, are you going to weave yourself a shelter from those leaves over there, or do you want to share my umbrella and we'll wander down to my office and you can tell me the whole story?' 'I'd rather die', she said. So you keep saying, he sighed, and watched her swagger away, drenched to the skin.
WolfLodge.etsy.com
Memories of homelessness echo 'cross my keyboard:
Hunkered down behind the dumpster, I peer out into the street & watch the Addressed People go by & I wonder about their Normal Lives. Being Addressedly-Challenged has changed me, changed my view of the world, which for now is a tenuous crack between the garbage cans & dripping black sacks of Things People Want to Forget. I chuckle that maybe I belong in the bags, too – I certainly have this “Forgotten” thing down pat.
Last night’s torrential rains have delivered new opportunities, new arrivals of offal & refuse for me to evaluate. But first, the people will entertain me with their Rush Hour pavane, their pressured processional promenade, as they weave among the traffic & their fellow Addressed Ones. A mother rushes along, nearly oblivious to the toddler struggling to keep up, her Hello Kitty galoshes skimming the sidewalk while she desperately clutches the Ziploc bag that holds her travel-weary peanut butter & jelly.
Behind her struts a dandy. I gasp at the splendor of the costume, the plumage, the shockingly garish colors, the golden chain restraining the nippy little wiener dog twinkle-toeing behind. The dandy’s mincing swagger is comical, & as false as a pretty girl’s promise, to someone like me.
Then comes the pretty girl, at least at first glance. The fake Gucci umbrella swaying at her bony hip, narrowly missing the soul-spearing tips of her stilettos; this dame has it down pat, I muse. I wonder how many hours of panhandling it would take to earn her “attention.” I grunt at the silliness & futility of that thought, & I notice the vice cop, the gumshoe with the stormy expression, bearing down on her. “Leave cable to the Addressed People”, I think excitedly, as I settle down in my hole, “This could be a good day after all!”
Here's mine!!! :-)
Once upon a time in the tiny city of Peanut Butter and Jelly, lived Stormy. Stormy was a classy dame who would never be seen out in public without her stilettos strapped to her feet, or her weiner dog, Gumshoe, in her arm. A certain swagger always seemed to follow her.
One day as Stormy was getting ready for a job interview she had later in the day, a sudden chill blew through the air. She glanced through her living room window and gasped. It was raining! It wasn’t your normal rain however, it was a torrential rain! Stormy had never seen anything like it in her life. Worrying now about being late for her interview, she decided to get a jump-start on things and head out early. Tucking her umbrella under one arm and Gumshoe under the other, Stormy put a hand on her door knob and stopped suddenly. She glanced down at her feet and stared hard at the shiny black stiletto heels. “Well, this clearly isn’t going to work….” She thought out loud, and she set down her two bundles. Gumshoe, happy to escape the rain himself, ran into the bedroom and hid under the bed, whimpering. Glancing around the room, Stormy’s eyes stopped on a pair of black galoshes in the closet. She entertained the though of wearing them, but that thought only lasted a half-second when she started laughing out loud. “Wow!!! WHAT was I thinking?!”
Ten minutes later, Stormy was still affixed to the same piece of carpet, not being able to tear her gaze away from the galoshes. Thunder clapped loudly outside her apartment. “Ok now, this is silly…” thought Stormy. “…I’ll just wear the galoshes. I’ll be fine.” Sitting herself down on the floor in front of the closet, Stormy tugged on the galoshes one by one. “At least they match my outfit!” she thought, and that cheered her up a bit.
As she stood up, something came over her. She felt….dizzy, faint, and disoriented. She began to weave about the room and ran to the couch just in time to collapse into a crumpled heap. She listened to Gumshoe still whining in the bedroom, she listened to the rain, and she listened to her clock – ticking away the minutes until her interview began. “I guess I stood up too fast.” Stormy thought, as she easer herself slowly off the couch to try again. Steady on two feet, she tried a few steps, but instantly needed to sit back down. “What is wrong with me?” Stormy wondered allowed. Her head hurt, her feet hurt, her…..feet, hurt? Stormy started once again at the galoshes on her feet, as if they had sprouted horns and were threatening world domination. She quickly kicked them off and watched as they flew across the room.
The fog over her instantly lifted, but all she could concentrate on was her clock and the fact that it had just chimed three times. Her interview started in 30 minutes – she needed to leave right that second or she would be late. Excuse or not, this company did NOT tolerate tardiness. Forgetting about the shoes and feeling ill, she grabbed her stilettos and strapped them back onto her feet. “Gumshoe will just have to stay here today” thought Stormy as she grabbed her umbrella once again and started out the door.
Suddenly, the clouds broke and the rain stopped. The sun shone brightly and birds began to sing. Stormy squinted at the sun and sighed exasperatedly. She threw her arms up into the air and yelled to no one in particular “I GIVE UP!!!” Tossing her umbrella in the nearby garbage bin, Stormy changed directions and stomped down the street towards the local bar. Again, speaking out loud, she grumbled “I need a drink more than I need a new job!”
WolfLodge
Nautical or nice? You decide:
Stood I, ‘gainst the stormy sea, spray leaping ‘pon my brow in a torrential rain of tidal fury. An umbrella’s push of wind bore athwart me, bidding me swagger & stagger from my post, but nae, did I not. Celestial thrashings of lightning did weave stilettos of violent
daggers amidst the waves. Stuck fast to the deck was I, as chicle sap to a barrel, as gumshoes to a pier plank, whilst salt spray sloshes into my galoshes, bidding me quit the deck for below, and comfort, and rest. A thundering dawn creeps up ‘twixt the mountainous waves, colors as of peanut butter, and jelly, sparkling atop the breakers. My watch, ‘tis over, & I grumble that First Mate Wiener, dog that he is, has o’erslept his shift anew. Still, this time is mine, & my duty ‘tis fair, to steer this grand old dame once more into the storm, into battle, & home.
WolfLodge gets his Limerick on...
A gumshoe, Norm Leibowitz once said,
That chivalry was certainly dead.
Don’t hold the door for a dame,
Even in torrential rain,
You’ll get an umbrella ‘tween Barney & Fred!
Call her sweet as peanut butter and jelly,
She’ll call you a PigMan, and smelly,
So drop the fake manly swagger,
She’ll use those stilettos for daggers,
And plant a galosh ‘neath yer belly!
Now between men & ladies it’s stormy,
To weave a love match for ol’ Normie,
They wanna haul off & flog
My poor ol wiener, dog,
Just to punish the last guy before me!
Damn! The stormy dame knocked the peanut butter and jelly out of my hand as she dragged her weiner dog through the torrential rains. My umbrella caught the wind as I staggered after her in my stilettos. My footsteps weaved along the path in her wake.
‘Come back here!’ I slurred through the gin-induced fog. ‘Come back, or I’ll get a gumshoe to search you out!’
The only reply was her dog’s thin whine as he trailed behind her artfully swaggering galoshes…
I left the tavern still wandering what a gumshoe was.
Earlier that evening he had been munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and mentioned his gumshoe was broken. His break had been cut short at work. I made a mental note to ask him what it was tomorrow.
I rounded the street corner quickening my pace, galoshes a splashing and I a dashing as the mist became torrential rains.
I pulled my hood up cursing that I had left my umbrella on the old pine table minutes earlier at the tavern. I decided to keep going rather than turn back knowing the drunks would take the umbrella as their own this frightful night.
A dark cloaked figure swaggered along side me; a dame... a mistress of the night.
"Stormy weather we're having!" She proclaimed. Weiner dog in tow she weaved her ways onwards barely balancing on frightfully bright orange stilettos. She flagged the car down and jumped on in.
I considered for a moment to do the same. Then that darn gumshoe reared it's ugly head.
I can't wait 'til tomorrow. I'll google it instead.
If it weren’t for the torrential rains and that damn weiner dog, sitting in the middle of the doorway like he owned the place, I would have kept on going and never would have noticed the dame in the galoshes. I mean, she wasn’t much too look at, standing there in that disgusting gray overcoat, her complexion like peanut butter and jelly. Grape jelly.
“Got a light?” she said, in a voice that reminded me of Carrotop on coke. She stuck an umbrella out and blocked my way. I tried to weave around it, but she hooked me around the ankle and pulled tight.
“Hey, gumshoe,” she said. “I’m talking to you.”
I turned to look at her then. She had a nose like a stilletto, a mouth like a head of cauliflower. “Kind of a stormy night, ain’t it?” she said, and I could tell that she was coming onto me. “What of it?” I said, trying to maintain my usual swagger but she unnerved me, this dame. I knew what she wanted, and I knew that in the end I would give it to her.
I always had a soft spot for peanut butter and jelly.
She was leaving for work. As she walked with a swagger down the road and across the street in her Gucci stilettoes and trying to get her peanut butter and jelly sandwich into her stomach, it started to rain. Not just rain-rain, this was torrential rain.
Her Gucci stilettoes were brand new and she especially wore them today for a rank dictating presentation, therefore, with no doubt about it, had to go back and get her umbrella.
When she reached home, she spotted her galoshes, and contemplated wearing them instead, but decided not to, she was too used to looking good.
The weather started getting stormy, and being the dame that she was, decided to stay at home, pull her hair weave out, feed her dog and to save her Gucci stilettoes for a better day.
(Sorry, I don't know what a weiner is!)
(don't know what a gumshoe is supposed to be either!, sorry! I'm from the UK.. if that makes any difference..)
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