Black Friday

She was late to the bargains. Last night was the worst of all nights for her young child to climb into bed and turn off the alarm. She knew the best deals were on the “front line,” that’s where it happens, the push/pull, the get out of my face. The "head bob" or the "snap and extend" would be passé on a day like this. Today you can't flinch or it's coal in a stocking, at least for “The Brain Dead Demons-350,” that not only annihilates zombies, but can kill at a rate of fifty per second, collect their brains and transform them back to their living state.

She hurried to the cue and took her place at the end; behind a guy she thought shouldn’t be there. He was alone and she thought, “This is woman’s work, beating the hell out of someone for a toy. What the hell is this guy looking for?”

He was dashing in his uniform, the military look, fatigues that made her think he just came back from the war.  Of course, standing in the garden section he could have blended right in. 

She overheard him mention to the couple in front that he was just back from fighting in Afghanistan. Tilting her ear she caught it was brutal, lots of anxiety, and he had lost three very close friends.

A bit cold, moments later, hands in his pockets, he nonchalantly turned to her and asked, “You’re alone today, too?”

“Yeah, I would have gotten here sooner but my alarm didn’t ring, long story.”

"What are you here for?”  

“Brain Dead.”

“No kidding, the 350?”

“Oh Yeah,” she smiled. “The 350… gotta have it… transforms them zom-bo's back to themselves and all.”

“Must have a son, huh?”

“No. It’s a little girl. Believe it or not she loves pink, Barbie and decapitated zombies… all nice… sugar and spice.”

“You’re funny.” He said and extended his hand “My name is Cahjay… I know it’s weird.”

“Hi, my name is Laverne. And don’t even go there.”
He chuckled and asked, “So, a little girl who likes to fight, huh?”

“Yeah… go “action” figure.”

With the smiles now lingering, the seconds felt extended waiting for someone to say the next words, but just then, the doors opened and the line erupted into mayhem, the people making a mad dash for all the things that make Christmas special, the hustle, the bustle, the “gettin’ while the gettin’s good”, the gifts from Santa, the reason, the rhyme, the want of everything, if only we could.

Oddly, the young soldier took a small step toward the wall and it puzzled her. Then the crowd behind them started forcing their way past, bumping her, pushing her aside, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close just before the exhilarated mob would have knocked her down.

“My goodness,” She said, looking closely into his eyes, “Thank you… They could have hurt me.”

Lips, inches apart, he told her, “Well you got to get that 350.”

Upon realizing she didn’t know why he was there, she asked, “Are you getting a present for a girlfriend?”

“I wish. I’m here for the quiet!”

Thanks for the Wishes

Thank you for the birthday wishes but instead of gifts this year, please donate a goat, sheep, or bison, in my name, to a third world country through the Heifer Foundation.

Or, give the perfect gift and buy “How to Reach for the American Dream… (and not get it.) By: Larry Hyatt .

Available on Amazon.com, Barnes and Nobles, or Muddy Bayou Press.
 

Click on picture to left.

Now please disregard this shameless promotion.

Interview with Larry Hyatt

Author interview with Larry Hyatt

http://authorashleighblanchard.blogspot.com/2013/11/larry-hyatt.html

Ash'leigh Blanchard: Larry Hyatt

authorashleighblanchard.blogspot.com

60 Seconds Inside a Bimbo's head-Thanksgiving

Oh hell, my boyfriend wants me to go to his family’s house for Thanksgiving…My sugar daddy is going to be pissed…I could say I’m not hungry, but I used that last year…I know, I could say I don’t want to gain weight… No, he already knows I’m on Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, and Nutrisystem… Nutrisystem, I like that one...Marie Osmond is much prettier, now...She really should have won on Dancing with the Stars…Shit, What do I do? I don’t want to lose my boyfriend. He’s young. He’s hot. He’s really good in bed… I don’t want to lose my sugar daddy either. He’s umm…umm…umm…he’s, rich….It’s like that that Chinese phrase…One’s my bling and the other’s my bang…Oh, geez, what am I to do? Piss off my boyfriend or piss off my sugar daddy?…Either way, someone is going to be really mad…I know, I'll flip a coin and do heads or tails...One in the afternoon the other at night...Someone gets head and someone gets tail…I sure have a lot to be thankful for.

Saints Cheerleader Bullies Uncovered in NFL Football Scandal

NEW OREANS, LA- Recent reports of the NFL bullying scandal has prompted us to look further into the NFL Football League and have uncovered, with hidden cameras, a bigger bullying scandal inside the Saintsation locker room, exposing a mean girl environment deeply hidden inside their sisterhood.

The video recordings of these professional NFL Cheerleaders engaging in misconduct, has created a firestorm in such places as Hooters, Twin Peaks, and the new “Thanks for the Mammary” restaurant in Houma, causing wait staff to pick sides.

Upon seeing the grainy recording, Lotta Upfront, Regional Manager of the “Thanks For,” in Houma, and former Saintsation, said, “Oh, please. Girls will be girls and if the rookies can’t take a little prodding from the veterans they should get out of the kitchen. Or, maybe they should find a man, a kitchen, and stay in it.”

Teal Green, a Hooter Girl, who recently quit the squad, said, “The trash talk was very detrimental. I can dance. I’m pretty. I’m special. I like myself, and I will find someone who can love me for me….That’s all I have to say… Excuse me… I feel a good cry coming on.”

When confronted with the report, an official from the Saints organization replied, “We are looking into the matter, but we really don’t concern ourselves with what happens with the Saintsations, unless of course it involves a paternity suit. But, we would like to know how the hell you got that tape. Officer, over here, please.”

This and more later today…

 

Her Candy is Gone

Her candy is gone
Now I am screwed.
The Snickers,
Those 3 guys
And the nougat, too.

I did probe.

I did squander.
Her bag I did launder.
My granddaughters pissed
I thought I was stronger.

What was I thinking?

She knew what she had
She counted each morsel
As Paw Paw I’m bad.

The wrappings what got me

Deep in the trash.
She noticed,
She yelled,
“Who took my stash?”

The screams,

The horror,
The pint sized
Disorder,
Was deafening.
Help me,
I'll run for the border.

But wait, she says, “Paw Paw

I think I now could.
You missed one, a Hershey’s,
It tastes, oh so good.”

“I forgive you my Paw Paw,

But don’t be a repeater,
Cause I’ll cut off your hands
If you do it on Easter.”

Oh Crap.

            Today I’ll have a book signing. Well, somewhat. All the Muddy Bayou Press authors will be at Southdown Market Place with their books and latest releases. The event is rather large and close friends, people I haven’t seen in quite some time, and listeners who didn’t know I wrote a book might attend. I’m excited. I’ll have a pen. (Last night I kept dreaming I was late. Obstacles kept keeping me from my destination. You with me here?)

            I’ve made personal appearances thousands of times. Yes, I said that correctly, thousands of times, yet I couldn’t sleep last night because of today. Working in radio puts egos in check. Well, most. I’ve learned this through the years. You make plenty of friends in radio. It won’t make you a star.

            When I go to a grand opening of the new floral department in the latest grocery, no one will attend to see if my petunia is in bloom. They might run into me and find out how the red fern grows, but the rose one seeks will be because of its charm, its grace, its personality.

            A star is a person who attracts people just by being there. Of course, if no one shows, I can blame it on the other authors.