These are the comments I have to deal with when Relax Max gets behind on his reading.

Relax Max, you are guest posting whether you want to or not.

Relax Max said...
Monday morning promised. Sue began her Creature on the Wall post confidently. Monday morning promised...What the hell did Monday morning promise, she thought, sucking idly on her McDonalds “Fake Frappe”, screwing up her face as she pondered the promise of Monday. Sue had something in her eye and looked squintily in the rear view mirror at herself, jerking the wheel back to the right at the blast of the passing truck’s airhorn, almost dropping the cup in the process. Monday, Monday, so good to me. Monday, Monday, it was all I hoped it would be. Oh Monday morning, Monday morning, couldn't guarantee, that Monday evening you would still be here with me. Paula reached over and turned the radio down. She squinted and threw Victor a glance. A squinty glance. But it missed and bounced off the windshield. Victor’s grin got wider and wider until finally it was big enough for her to grab. She shook Victor by the grin until his eyes crossed.Paula looked at the rabbit in the cage and thought of the pound. Do they take rabbits at the pound? She wondered. In her swaggering wondering 30-something way. She dozed off. Paula was wakened by the sound of screeching tires and gravel hitting the underside of the vehicle. Paula had forgotten she was the one driving. “Whew!” Paula thought to herself, no longer swaggering. “I almost got my first big break!” Victor was no longer grinning widely. Victor’s eyes were no longer crossed. Victor’s seat was wet. Pee, she thought. Victor looked at her blankly, still floating somewhere in the outer reaches of car crash purgatory. “Could you please pull over, Paula? I need to change my drawers.”Paula was fully awake now. Both white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel like a starving Sudanese child might grip an Egg McMuffin. “Please wait. Be back in two minute.” Victor got out and slammed the door behind him. The trunk popped open. As she waited, Paula’s good eye swaggered up to the billboard at the side of the road. “McGreggor’s Dairy Farm, 3 miles ahead” is said in big red letters. “And Chinese rabbit hutch” some vandal had scrawled below in small blue letters. “Sweet Baby Jesus.” Paula began to pray in earnest, deep in the twilight zone now, feeling less in control of her Monday now than Mo Gadahfi. Where the hoary frack was that idiot cameraman? Paula suddenly felt empty and alone. As alone as a diehard Cleveland Indians fan sitting in the bleachers at Progressive Field during the World Series. “Carrots? Carrots?” moaned the ghostly old beer vendor as he cast a Jacob Marley eye on the rabbit in Paula’s lap. Monday, Monday, can't trust that day. Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way. Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be. Oh Monday Monday, how yould could you leave and not take me?

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This is an actual comment, just one comment. I copied and pasted it from just one comment. He's long winded but visiting his blogs is worth it.

Carity2011

Britishspeak

The Slap & Tickle

Thank you Relax Max for your guest post.

The Creature in the Wall

Monday morning promised to be an above average Monday. The office was going to literally be a ghost town. All the offices were going dark because of a big meeting out of state. I was up front holding down the fort, so to speak. In other words, peace and quiet. I was looking forward to today almost as much as an Egg McMuffin Friday.

With a big smile on my face I sat down to start my day. Sipping my piping hot cappuccino and going through my emails. It was quiet. Until I heard the noise.

"What the hell was that?"

It came from the wall that is within my reach. I leaned over in my chair and cocked my ear towards the suspicious sound. There it goes again. A co-worker happened upon me while I was staring at the wall.

Now everyone knows that when a wall is making a noise, it's only going to do it when you are alone with it. But I still said, "The wall is making a noise." His eyes lit up because right then he realized that his Monday just got better. He had someone to tease mercilessly for the rest of the day.

"What kind of a noise?" He cared not, I could tell by his grin.

"The kind of noise a creature would make if it was clawing it's way through a wall to attack me, that kind of noise, it's unsettling."

We both remained silent for a few seconds, nothing. He banged on the wall.

"I don't hear anything."

"Of course you don't hear anything, it's going to wait until you leave."

He started to walk away, but I kept talking.

"It's only a matter of time before it breaks through the wall."

My voice grew louder as he continued down the hall.

"I'll be here all alone."

"Uh huh."

"Just waiting for the creature to strike."

He turned the corner.

"Don't worry about me, I'm sure I'll be fine." By now I was shouting.

Alone again. 10 seconds later the creature started to claw it's way out, I whimpered.

A Valentine Re-Run

Since my Valentine's Day this year was the most uneventful to date, I decided to re-run a Valentine post from 2009. I got a present in 2009.
And since all I've been doing is writing, writing, writing for my class, I'm breaking one of my blogging rules and posting a re-run. Happy Valentine's Day.


It's Too Bad You're a Diabetic

I spent most of the morning deciding on a hiding place for my heart shaped box of chocolates. It seems that after all these years of dumping time and money into my children, I'm starting to see a profit. Boy #2 presented me with a Valentine's Day gift.
"For me?"
"Happy Valentine's Day mom. I got to go to work, love you."
"I have to hide this from your father and the other ones."
The husband shuffled out of bed while I was in the shower, before I found a hiding place though. "Where'd you get the chocolate?" he yells into the bathroom.
"My thoughtful son."
"Which one is that?"
"Number 2."
"Oh that's right, I told him to pick it up for me and give it to you."
"Uh huh, it's too bad you're a diabetic, cause I'd have shared them with you."
One lie deserves an other.
I've done 4 or 5 months of diabetic hard time, so I'm not unsympathetic. I had gestational diabetes with Boy #3 and that was near Easter. Chocolate bunnies would sneer at me, "Gestational diabetes, that's got to suck."
"I couldn't eat chocolate when I was pregnant with you and yet, I still love you." I tell Boy #3. "And that's why you're so skinny, you know that right?"
A couple of days a go the husband asked if he had to buy me a Valentine's Day present. My response, "Just being married to you is present enough babe." It's the little white lies we've told each other over the past 23 years that has kept our marriage so strong.

YOU ARE HERE

At the workplace is it expected that the majority of the employees have a reasonable amount of intelligence. They went through the process of filling out an application, an interview and they managed to drive themselves to said place of employment. One would have to come to the conclusion, no matter how hard it is to say, that the office is not filled with a bunch of morons. It may not seem that way but there are sparks of intellect flying around most of the time. We were all taught at a young age the process of walking into a building, retaining that information, making a mental picture, so to speak, of the door we just walked through. Day after day we walk into the door and then, even after a long trying day, we are able to find our way out of the building by walking through that very same door we had, hours ago, walked into. If for some reason that information loses it's place in our head, we don't panic because above all the doors leading to the outside world there is a big sign above that reads, and we all can read, EXIT.
So I ask you, because I am a curious person, and I would really like to understand this:
Why, in the name of Zeus's butt hole, do we have to have maps of the interior of the building plastered on the walls telling us "YOU ARE HERE" and a red arrow leading us to the nearest exit?
I will await your response, thank you.

This might be a disaster.

Okay here is my latest assignment: Select an article in your local newspaper, read it thoroughly. Outline a fictional short story or a nonfiction article based on the account. I went for fiction because I never do fiction and wanted to see if I could do it. It's over 1,000 words.

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“This is going to be a disaster. A farmer, do you have any idea how hard it is to interview a farmer?”

“But, do you have any idea how much fun it will be to watch you try to interview a farmer?”

Paula gave Victor a glance, squinted her eyes, opened her mouth then shut it again. Why give him the satisfaction, she turned her head and watched the big city disappear.

Paula Swagger had chosen the profession of a TV news reporter. In her mid 30’s, she was still waiting for her big break. On her way to a dairy farm, she knew today wasn’t the day. She held a picture in her hand, it was a picture of the farm she and her cameraman, Victor, had their GPS set for. Out to the middle of nowhere then hang a left.

She studied the picture, apparently this farmer’s farm was being over-run by rabbits. The picture showed twenty or so crates with bunnies in them. She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Why me?”

“Boss said it would be a great human interest story, what with the Chinese New Year and all.”

Paula looked at Victor, actually stared blankly at him.

“You didn’t do your homework did you? You weren’t even paying attention in this mornings meeting?” Victor’s eyes were full of mischief, this was going to be better than he thought. He could barely sit still, his foot pressed on the accelerator just a little bit more.

“The Chinese New Year? The year of the rabbit?”

“Uh huh.” His grin widened. “People thought it would be a good idea to buy a bunny, you know for good luck. Thing is they didn’t realized what a chore it would be to take care of them.”

“So they’re dropping them off at this farm. What a mess.”

“Not only his farm, other farms and pet stores too. We’ll be there in 10 minutes.” You couldn’t wipe the grin off his face no matter how hard you tried. Paula’s head started the pound. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

“We’re here!” Paula snapped to attention.

“Would you look at that? Look at all those crates. There has to be 100 of them.”

They both sat in the stations van staring out the window. There was a fruit stand in the small parking lot where they stopped to park and behind that, a weathered barn, off to the left a farmhouse after that nothing but fields as far as the eye could see.

Paula opened her door, “Oh! Holy Mother of …..do you smell that?”

“Farms smell like poop 24/7.”

“Hello! Hi!” A man was running towards them, waving his arm. “Hello, thank you all for comin’. Are you the TV people?”

“Yes sir, we surely are.” Victor was getting into character, Paula shot him a warning look. “Hello, I’m Paula Swagger and this is my cameraman Victor. And, I’m sorry, your name?”

“Peter McGregor ma’am. I sure am glad to see you.” He shook both their hands until their teeth rattled. He pointed to house farmhouse, “That there’s my wife Elsie.” He vigorously waved to her and yelled, “These are the TV people.” Victor and Paula waved to Elsie. Peter McGregor continued to yell, “They’re gonna put me on TV, go on in and watch.”

“Oh Mr. McGregor, we’re just going to get some footage and …….” It was too late, Elsie was back in the house.

Paula whipped her head around, directed her clenched teeth towards Victor, “Get the camera, film this and let’s get the hell out of here.” He grinned at her and ran to the back of the van.

“Now Mr. McGregor how about you and I stand over there by the barn with all your bunnies.”

“They’re not my bunnies! That’s what I’m trying to tell everyone! People are dropping them off in the middle of the night. Ma’am this here’s a Dairy Farm, I can’t have a hundred bunnies hoppin around here, I got cows to milk.”

Victor arrived with his camera and handed Paula her microphone, “Ready?”

Paula glanced at Mr. McGregor, who was visibly upset. This man was looking for help and he got her. “Let’s see if we can’t get this problem taken care of sir.” She nodded to Victor, who then hoisted the camera up on his shoulder and a little red light went on. Mr. McGregor’s eye grew big as saucers and the corners of his mouth went up.

“Paula Swagger reporting from WTRX News. We are here at the farm of Peter and Elsie McGregor. Their farm has been inundated with bunnies. These bunnies are being dropped off in the middle of the night by thoughtless seekers of good fortune. You see it’s the Chinese New Year, the year of the rabbit.”

“The Chinese?”

“People have been buying bunnies in hopes of them bringing good luck to their families. Then realizing they are too much work, they drop them off at local farms and pet stores. Ladies and gentlemen these animals are not good luck charms and they can’t take care of themselves.”

She turned her attention to Mr. McGregor, “Sir, can someone who wants to adopt a bunny come by and pick one up?”

“Why sure they can. I gotta get rid of them, they’re cute and all but you know how fast they, huh, multiply and I got some gal named PETA calling me sayin I have too many bunnies, that there ain’t no way I can take care of them all. She’s right, Elsie’s been runnin back and forth to the store buyin carrots, we’re running outta room.”

“There you have it ladies and gentlemen, WTRX News will post information on our website regarding adopting a bunny from Mr. McGregor. I’m Paula Swagger at the McGregor Dairy Farm from WTRX News, thank you and good evening.”

And the little red light on the camera went off, Mr. McGregor relaxed. “What we’ll do sir, is take this tape back to the station, do a little editing and we should have it on the 6:oo news.”

“You all leavin already, we thought maybe you’d stay for supper.” Paula was moved. “I’m sorry, we have to go if you want to see yourself on TV, okay?” They exchanged smiles, real smiles and Victors stupid grin turned into a smile.

On the way back Paula, again drifted off to sleep. When she felt the van stop, she opened her eyes and looked at Victor, “We’re back sleepy head.” They both turned and looked in the back of the van at the crate with the bunny in it, “What are you going to name him?” Victor asked. It was Paula’s turn for the mischievous grin, “Peter Rabbit, of course.”