Ergo, the Ogre

Author: Ergo, the Ogre

  • 3TC #MM56 | The New Guy

    3TC #MM56 | The New Guy

    Welcome to the daily Three Things Challenge.
    Use your imagination and creativity using one, two or all three words that may or may not be related. There are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre, though please keep it family friendly.

    Tag your responses with 3TC, #threethingschallenge or TTC, and you can add Di’s logo if you wish.

    pink rose

    Looking forward to reading your responses.

    Your three words today are:
    WORRY
    CONCERN
    CARING

    Boxcar Billy hated to admit it, but he was worried about his long-time buddy Reno Ricky. He hadn’t seen him for months. This was unusual and worrisome. Usually, he ran into Reno Ricky every couple of weeks

    Boxcar Billy shared his concern with mutual friends, but they had neither seen nor heard anything about Ricky.

    What could’ve happened to that ol’ scamp? See? That’s the trouble with making friends in this kind of life. You start caring and worrying and then something happens, and it breaks your heart.

    However, the Hobo Convention in Britt, IA was coming up and Ricky wouldn’t miss that for anything. He said it was the best opportunity a hobo had to “network.” Billy smiled and shook his head at the memory.

    The Hobo Convention finally rolled around, and Boxcar Billy was on his way to Britt. He didn’t pray often but he made an exception for Reno Ricky. Billy made a deal with God that he’d swear off the booze if God would look out for Reno Ricky.

    As such, Billy knew that if Ricky was alive, he’d be here.

    So, Billy walked around the grounds, greeting old friends and looking for Ricky. The sun was pretty hot, so Billy walked over to a weeping willow tree and leaned up against it. As he twisted up cigarette, an almost well-dressed guy he’d never seen before came up to him.

    “You Boxcar Billy?” The new guy asked.

    “Maybe.” He struck a match on what was left of the bottom of his worn-out shoe. “Who’s askin’?”

    The new guy reached in his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled but sealed envelope with Billy’s name on it. “This is for you.” He handed the envelope to Billy.

    “What’s this?”

    “Open it,” the new guy said. “It’s from Ricky.”

    Billy stared at the envelope with his name written on it and his eyes began welling up with tears.

    He looked up to speak to the new guy. but he was gone. Just seemed to vanish.

    Billy shrugged and opened the envelope. Inside was a rumpled piece of paper:

    Billy,

    Won the lottery. Come to Reno. There’s a one-way ticket waiting for you at the Fort Dodge Airport.

    Reno Ricky.

    Billy closed his tear-filled eyes and thanked God.

  • Junior

    Junior

    This week our host Jim Adams, has asked us to choose a song from a ‘Best of’ compilation or an anthology. I chose What Does it Take (To Win Your Love) by Junior Walker & the All Stars. It is off the album 20th Century Masters – The Millennium Collection – Best of Jr. Walker & the All Stars. I have loved this song since I heard for the first time back in 1979. My bf at the time and I went to hear this band called Maxine & Company, and they did this song. I have some bittersweet memories of those times, but that’s the way it goes. IMO, this song is the love song.

    The Story

    Jr. Walker & The All Stars were a down-home, blues-and-rhythm counterpoint to the upwardly mobile, commercial polish that was Motown’s trademark of the 1960s. Their leader’s gutbucket sax and shout-out vocals framed and defined the group’s place in popular music, and lent credence to the Motown subsidiary label under which their music was released: Soul.

    • Autry DeWalt-Mixon is born in Blythesville, Arkansas in 1931. His stepfather, whose surname is Walker, gives him the nickname “Junior,” and the youngster is inspired to take up the saxophone by the jumping jive of alto genius Louis Jordan, whose seductive music he hears while growing up.
    • A teenage Junior forms his first instrumental group, the Jumping Jacks, in South Bend, Indiana, with guitarist Willie Woods, organist Victor Thomas and drummer Tony Washington, all of whom start playing professionally together in small clubs.
    • Renamed Jr. Walker & The All Stars, the band moves to Michigan after lining up an open-ended residency at the El Grotto, a nightclub in Battle Creek. Here, Junior develops into quite the showman, regularly raising the roof with his distinctive, shrieking sax. “When I got off into the R&B,” Junior tells author Bill Dahl, “I started makin’ a little money then!”
    • Shotgun” is a massive hit in 1965, setting up Junior and the band to blow through the Billboard best-sellers for four straight years. The band’s Top 10 R&B singles include “Shake and Fingerpop,” “(I’m A) Road Runner” and “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You).” And, of course, the All Stars take to the highways and byways. “I guess [Junior] figured being in the studio was a gamble,” says Motown writer/producer kingpin Lamont Dozier, “and he needed to be out there on the road, picking up the money. That was a sure thing, right?”
    • Later, the All Stars are handed a new recipe by their Battle Creek buddy Johnny Bristol: “What Does It Take (To Win Your Love).” Walker is hesitant at first. “He’s a real ‘Shotgun’ kinda guy, just yell it out,” recalls Bristol. “I said, ‘No, Junior, a little prettier, a little warmer.’ And I sang harmony with him.” The outcome is the band’s biggest pop crossover since “Shotgun,” paving the way for an equally attractive sequence of hits: “These Eyes,” “Gotta Hold onto This Feeling,” “Do You See My Love (For You Growing)” and “Take Me Girl, I’m Ready.”

    Personnel

    The Lyrics

    What does it take (what does it take)
To win your love for me? (To win your love for me?)
How can I make (how can I make)
This dream come true for me? (Come true for me)

    Whoa, I just got to know (have to know)
    Ooh, baby, ’cause I love you so
    Gonna blow for you

    I tried, I tried, I tried, I tried
    In every way I could (every way I could)
    To make you see how much I love you (to make you see how much I love you)
    Ooh, I thought you understood (thought you understood)

    So, you gotta make me see (make me see)
    What does it take to win your love for me?
    Gonna blow again for you

    (What does it take to win your love for me?)
    (What does it take to win your love for me?)
    (What does it take to win your love for me?)
    (What does it take to win your love for me?)

    The Video

  • Betrayed

    Betrayed

    Written for SammiScribbles Weekend Writing Prompt. You can join in here.

    Our task is to write 96-word story or poem using the word prompt “Confide.”

    Grace thought she could trust her best friend, Bella. They’d known each other since kindergarten and now they were seniors in high school. They’d been through it all together, acne, bullies, good boyfriends and bad, make-up and hairstyle disasters.  So, Grace felt comfortable confiding in Bella, never thinking that her bestie would break that trust.

    A few days later, Grace had become the school pariah. No one would talk to her, they’d giggle when she walked by, even her teachers looked at her funny.

    On Grace’s locker door Queer Bitch was scrawled in black magic marker.

  • 3TC #MM54 | PBR & Pizza

    3TC #MM54 | PBR & Pizza

    Welcome to the daily Three Things Challenge.
    Use your imagination and creativity using one, two or all three words that may or may not be related. There are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre, though please keep it family friendly.

    Tag your responses with 3TC, #threethingschallenge or TTC, and you can add Di’s logo if you wish.

    pink rose

    Looking forward to reading your responses.

    Your three words today are:
    ACCUSE
    RECLUSE
    SIMPER

    Being a recluse was everything Fred had dreamed of and more. Aside from a short stint as an auctioneer, Fred had been in some sort of sales for his entire working life — a career 100% unsuitable for an introvert such as he. Now, all he wanted was to be left alone.

    As soon as his retirement kicked-in, Fred moved to Bent Spoon; a secluded town in the wilds of Montana, and let his hair grow as long as it wanted to. The population was less than 30, housing was affordable, and neighbors were scarce.  He decided against installing a telephone, but he did opt for high-speed internet. That way, he could order a pizza and drive 25 miles to pick it up. While he was out, he’d hit the liquor store for a case of PBR and stop at the small market if he needed anything else.

    To Fred, his life was paradise; he truly was living the dream. The townsfolk in his new home didn’t understand Fred. Some accused him of being a nutjob, some thought he was in a witness protection program, still others thought he was a criminal in hiding. In fact, the latter watched every episode of America’s Most Wanted in hopes of “busting the case wide open.” They were disappointed.

    Fred enjoyed being a man of mystery. Occasionally however, he’d get bored. That’s when he decided to become a writer.

    Every day he would sit in front of his computer for hours, pounding out his life story using only two fingers. He never sent his manuscript out for publication or tried to find an agent, for that would involve engaging with people. Fred assumed he’d become famous after his death. Sooner or later, someone would discover him.

    After 2o+ years of being a recluse, Fred’s hair had gown to his knees. It had gone from thick salt and pepper, to thin sparse and gray, as did his tangled beard. His health suffered as well. Once could not live on PBR and pizza alone. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a piece of fruit or a fresh vegetable.

    Newspapers and junk mail overflowed from his rickety old mailbox.

    During a wellness check, he was found by the Bent Spoon sheriff’s deputy with his head on the keyboard and eyes wide open. Fred was gone.

    His computer monitor read:

    It was a dark and stormy night.

    It was not a dark and stormy night.

    Was, too.

    Was not.

    Was, too.

    Was not.

    And so, it went.

  • A Golden Mother’s Day

    A Golden Mother’s Day

    Originally written for Sadje of Sunday Poser fame, it is now being recycled for Fandango’s Flashback Friday

    Sadje, of Sunday Poser fame has asked us to write about one of our best Mother’s Day memories. Below is one of my most memorable Mother’s Days.

    The year was 1984, or so. I was in my mid-20s and working as a waitress. I worked a Sunday Brunch that Mother’s Day and had made a ridiculous amount of money. So, to celebrate the day and my mom, I took her out to Chi Chi’s Mexican restaurant for golden margaritas and nachos.

    Chi Chi’s golden margaritas were made with Grand Marnier rather than triple sec and a top-shelf tequila, Cuervo Gold, I think. They were, well, nothing short of amazeballs.

    We had a wonderful time laughing, drinking, eating, and acting silly. After about three margaritas each, we were both pretty well toasted — especially Mom — but I was still okay to drive. Back then DUIs were basically unheard of; nobody worried about them.

    When we got back to Mom’s place, a relative (let’s call her Donna) stopped by with her family to say hello. Mom and Donna shared a love-hate relationship but managed to hold it together for the most part. That, coupled with Mom’s decent buzz from our Golden Margarita afternoon, caused the visit to rapidly deteriorate.

    My brother and I were out on the balcony having a smoke and shooting the breeze. Within ten minutes Donna’s kids were yelling for us to ‘come help’ and the youngest one was crying. We rushed in to find Donna pinned against the wall with Mom’s hand around her throat. You could see the blood pulsing through one of the veins in Mom’s neck as she mumbled something of an obviously serious nature to at Donna.

    My brother separated the two, and Donna & company gathered up their stuff and left.

    After things calmed down, Mom sat down at the kitchen table, lit a cigarette, and said, “Damn, that felt good. I’d been wanting to do that for the longest time.”

    Susan Marie Shuman
    My mom in 1990, Boulder, CO