Author: Ergo, the Ogre

  • Liliana’s Afterlife

    Liliana’s Afterlife

     

    It was 11:56pm. There was a knock on the door.

    “You’re late!” Liliana flung the door open. “Where the hell you been?”

    “Uhhh, excuse me?” The Grim Reaper had never before been greeted in this manner.

    “I’ve been ready, waiting here for…I dunno how long!” Liliana spat. “So, what’s your excuse?”

    “My excuse?” he repeated. “Let me check my paperwork.” His nervous fingers fumbled through the pages on his clipboard.

    “And while you’re at it, I’d like the name of your supervisor. You people haven’t heard the last of this!”

    “Ms. Liliana Rushinsky, correct?”

    “Yes, that’s me,” she replied impatiently.

    “If you look here, ma’am, I’m right on time.” He showed her his schedule.

    “I don’t care what that says!” She shoved the clipboard away. “I’ve been ready and you’ve kept me waiting.”

    The Reaper stood in the doorway, perplexed. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

    “Your supervisor’s name please? You people need to learn what customer service is all about.”

    “That would be Ms. Lucinda Furr.”

    “Thank you.” Liliana jotted the name down. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

    “So, Ms. Rushinsky,” The Reaper’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky. “Are you ready to go?”

    “Well, I was, but now I’m not so sure,” she sighed. “Let me check the house one more time.”

    The Reaper glanced around Liliana’s modest home as he waited. It was different from most of the other homes he’d visited. There were no photos of loved ones on the walls. For that matter, the walls were empty, no artwork or anything. They were painted a dreary off-white with a touch of gray. It was a color he’d never seen before. Liliana had no knick-knacks, either. There was nothing in this room that gave a clue as to who Liliana Rushinsky is. The place hardly looked lived-in and it certainly didn’t have that familiar homey feeling.

    “Okay, all set.” Liliana announced. Let’s blow this joint!”

    “May I ask why you are in such a hurry? Your attitude is most unusual.”

    “Look around this dump.” She swung her arm at the room. “Would you want to stay here all alone?”

    “Well, I —”

    “Life is about quality, not quantity,” she interrupted. “And sir, I have had more than enough quantity.”

    “I see,” the Reaper said thoughtfully while twisting and untwisting his long gray beard around his pinky.

    “Can we go now?” Liliana took his elbow as if he were her date. “I’m so anxious to see my mother, oh and my old friends Jim and Connie…and….”

    She lead him out the door and into the Afterlife.

     

     

    fineartamerica.com

     

  • Darlene’s Dilemma

    Today’s writing prompt at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie is the photo below by Julien Tabet.


    Her real name was Darlene, but the entire herd — including the brain-damaged shepherd — called her Baldie.

    Sheep could be so very cruel, she thought, as she stood munching alone in the far corner of the meadow. Most people think sheep are timid,  fearful, and well, sheepish. Hah! Not this bunch of barbaric Bovidae.

    Can I help it I inherited my parent’s crappy hair genes? Darlene lamented. Life is so unfair!

    One evening she stayed up late to watch the remake of “The Shushing of the Sheep” on FarmFlix, and during the commercial break she found the answer to her dilemma: Spanish Sur-Gro!

    If this stuff worked on people, it would probably work on sheep too, she concluded. Same thing only different…

     

    SusanWritesPrecise/ Susan Marie Shuman
    amazon.com

     

    So, Darlene ordered a case of the stuff. When the box finally arrived, she gnawed it open and set about eradicating her baldness. All the while anticipating how hot she would look with long, flowing, wooly tresses … the guys would find her absolutely irresistible!

    And that is exactly the way it panned out. The ewes were extremely envious of Darlene and her new ‘do, as the rams stood slobbering and rhapsodizing over her beauty.

    From then on, Darlene was known as the “Lady Godiva of Sheepdom.”

    When shearing time rolled around, sure enough, Darlene was the star of the shear show, too. No matter how short her wooly locks were snipped, with just a shot of Spanish Sur-Gro, it all grew back the very next day.

    There was however, a downside to Darlene’s new luscious locks: the shepherd began paying way too much attention to her. Way too much.

    But that is a story for another day.

     

     

     

    SusanWritesPrecise/ Susan Marie Shuman

     

  • Hey, Wally…

    Hey, Wally…

    Today at Song Lyric Sunday Jim asks us to choose a song from a TV show. I chose… Leave it to Beaver!


    The theme song is titled Toy Parade. The lyrics were written by Dave Kahn, Melvyn Leonard & Mort Greene. Personally, I don’t see what this song has to do with the Beav, but who am I to say?

     

    Hey! Here they come with a rum-tee tum they’re having a toy parade.
    A tin giraffe with a fife and drum is leading the kewpie parade.
    A gingham cat in a soldier’s hat is waving a Chinese fan,
    A plastic clown in a wedding gown is dancing with Raggedy Ann.

    Fee fie fiddle dee dee they’re crossing the living room floor
    Fee fie fiddle dee dee they’re up to the dining room door.

    They call a halt for a choc’late malt or cookies and lemonade
    Then off they go with a ho ho ho right back to their toy brigade.

     

     

     

  • Home

    Home

     

    The prompt for Joelle’s Tales at Ranting along is to talk about the last trip we took in exactly 120 words.


    There are times when you want to see the people who knew you when. So, I took a solo road trip back home to Arlington Heights, IL. It was about a 10-hour-drive and worth every mile.

    My mom passed away in 2004, but her best friend Angie and her daughter, Joanne, (my very first friend) still live there. I’d always felt like part of their family and thank God it’s still that way.

    The week went by way too fast. I stayed with Joanne and we did all the usual things, shopping, eating, drinking, and laughing. The hardest part was leaving and seeing Illinois grow smaller in my rearview mirror.

    There’s no telling when or even if, I’ll be back.

     

    Joanne & Me