Please excuse the long-winded diatribe at the start of this post. If you prefer to skip this part (which has nothing at all to do with the story) feel free to scroll down and cut to the chase. My feeling will be injured, but I should recover in six to eight weeks with only minor psychological scars.
For those of you who follow the Lottery, as of this morning the current jackpot is the 7th highest of all-time and I expect it will climb further up the charts before the drawing this weekend. My wife’s theory is that you have to purchase your ticket in another state if you want to win. She backs this up by citing the number of past winners who bought their ticket while traveling on vacation.
She may be onto something. Last week when Jason and I were in Charlotte, SC, he purchased a $10 scratch off and won $30. He kept reinvesting a portion of his winnings and after three cards was $90 ahead. I guarantee you if we’d been in our home state of Arkansas he could have spent $90 and been lucky to have won $10.
Don’t waste your time or money on a lottery ticket this weekend. Connie and I are traveling to Carthage, Missouri Saturday morning for Aunt Verda’s 90th birthday party. At some point on this trip she plans to purchase the winning ticket and thrust us into the misery of becoming multi-millionaires. Having money will be quite an adjustment, but she thinks that over time we can learn to live with it.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the bookie taking bets on who gets the most chigger bites at the event described below is Carla “Whacha-Talkin’-Bout” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. Find links to other author’s stories by clicking here.
(Debuting their new album “Immune to DEET”)
An all-you-can-eat buffet will be provided by two pale-skinned teenagers making passionate love in the tall grass behind the wrought iron fence.
The weather is here ~ wish you were beautiful.
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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