Hit Somebody!
How about song lyrics for another Sunday? This week the prompt is a song “that include the lyrics ‘cold, frozen, frigid or icy’“.
This song is Hit Somebody! (The Hockey Song) written by Warren Zevon and author Mitch Albom (Tuesdays with Morrie). The song was released on Warren’s eleventh studio album, My Ride’s Here (2002) and David Letterman gets credit for background vocals. It’s about hockey which you probably guessed from the title. It’s also a very good song which, because it’s a Warren Zevon song, is something you probably also guessed.
“I mean, come on. To me, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is only of interest if Warren gets in.” – David Letterman
“Enjoy every sandwich.” – Warren Zevon
He was born in Big Beaver by the borderline,
he started playing hockey by the time he was nine.
His dad took the hose and froze the back yard,
and little Buddy dreamed he was Rocket Richard.
He grew up big and he grew up tough.
He saw himself scoring for the Wings or Canucks,
but he wasn’t that good with a puck.
Buddy’s real talent was beating people up,
his heart wasn’t in it but the crowd ate it up.
Through pee-wee’s and juniors and midgets and mites.
He must have racked up more than three hundred fights.
Till a scout from the flames came down from Saskatoon,
said, “There’s always room on our team for a goon.
Son, we’ve always got room for a goon”
There were Swedes to the left of him.
Russians to the right.
A Czech at the blue line looking for a fight,
Brains over brawn-that might work for you,
but what’s a Canadian farm boy to do?
(Hit somebody!)
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do?
(Hit somebody!)
But what’s a Canadian farm boy to do?
(Hit somebody!)
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do?
“Hit somebody!” was what the crowd roared
when Buddy the goon came over the boards.
“Coach,” he said, “I wanna score goals.”
The coach said, “Buddy, remember your role.
The fast guys get paid, they shoot and they score.
Protect them, Buddy, that’s what you’re here for.”
“Protection – is what you’re here for.
Protection – it’s the stars who score.
Protection – go and kick somebody’s ass.
Protection – don’t put the biscuit in the basket, just
hit some, Buddy!” It rang in his ears.
Blood on the ice ran down through the years.
The king of the goons with a box for a throne,
a thousand stitches and broken bones.
He never lost a fight on his icy patrol,
but deep inside, Buddy only dreamed of a goal.
He just wanted one damn goal.
There were Swedes at the blue line,
Finns at the red.
A Russian with a stick heading straight for his head.
Brains over brawn – that might work for you,
but what’s a Canadian farm boy to do?
(Hit somebody!)
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do?
(Hit somebody!)
But what’s a Canadian farm boy to do?
(Hit somebody!)
What else can a farm boy from Canada do?
In his final season, on his final night,
Buddy and a Finn goon were pegged for a fight.
Thirty seconds left, the puck took a roll…
and suddenly Buddy had a shot on goal.
The goalie committed, Buddy picked his spot,
twenty years of waiting went into that shot.
The fans jumped up, the Finn jumped too.
And coldcocked Buddy on his follow through.
The big man crumbled, but he felt all right,
‘cuz the last thing he saw was the flashing red light.
He saw that heavenly light.
There were Swedes to the left of him.
Russians to the right.
A Czech at the blue line looking for a fight.
Take care of your teeth – that might work for you.
But what’s a Canadian farm boy to do?
(Hit somebody!)
What else can a farm boy from Canada do?
(Hit somebody!)
What’s a Canadian farm boy to do?
(Hit somebody!)
What else can a farm boy from Canada do?
(Hit somebody!)
What’s a Canadian farm boy to do?
(Hit somebody)
What else can a farm boy from Canada do?
Superscript (times two) (89*2)
Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #358 is Superscript.
(For what it’s worth, I think the last WWP I wrote to was #307? It should does fly.)
Roger the Writer
Roger: he was nondescript.
He liked to write in superscript.
Asked him why, he didn’t know.
“Somethin’,” he said. “I’ll prolly outgrow.”
“Do it for pleasure and for play,
”I’ll prolly do it till Judgement Day.”
“More’n that, what can I say?”
And just like that he walked away.
Roger wrote page after page
about spaceships which were all the rage.
He wrote about a time machine
and a girl named Trish in Aberdeen.
Superscript words
he did dispense.
And
in the end –
nothing
he wrote
made
any
sense.
Living in Superscript
Two lives lived in a superscript world:
A meeting of minds,
a mutual agreement.
Meld two lives together. Two lives set
higher
than everything else.
Up
and up,
higher
and higher.
Two hearts softly swirled.
Then:
Pressure rises,
air is thin.
No deep breaths because
it’s hard
to
breath.
Going?
Out.
Out?
Out.
Can I?
Out.
Will you?
Out.
What should—
Gone.
Now:
Love and Loved.
Smiles and tears.
Love you. Loved you.
See you. See you?
Two lives lived in a superscript world.
Still.
Living,
mixed and whirled.
= = = =
If you’ve read this far, I was thinking… What’s the difference between a comma and an apostrophe? The apostrophe thinks highly of itself.
??
Yes? No?
And then one day…
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers.
THE DETAILS:
Friday Fictioneers: 1 picture, 100 words, scores of people from around the world sharing their creativity and vision. Feel free to join in, just visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to find out how.
THE PROMPT:
This week’s photo prompt courtesy of, and copyright by, Sandra Crook. Thank you, Sandra! (I love the colors in that picture and how it’s framed)
THE STORY:
(This story is true. This story is not about me. The thought came to me after seeing the picture because I’ve recently been thinking about a friend who took his life back in August of last year. I have no real idea why I’d be missing him more lately other than maybe something as simple as the beginning of another baseball season. My friend didn’t jump from a bridge, but that doesn’t matter. I miss him and I pray that wherever he is now, he found what he felt he needed and that he’s at peace.)
(It was better with you.)
~~~~
And then one day…
No one knows. For days, weeks, maybe months (maybe years?) the voice whispered to him.
Jump. Do it.
And at some point, during those many hours (maybe so slowly he never realized?), his will to fight weakened and he began to wonder if maybe the voice wasn’t right. (If maybe the voice wasn’t the truth?)
Out for a walk and he’d wonder:
Why not? Maybe one day.
Riding his bike:
Why not? Maybe one day.
At night, unable to sleep:
Why not? Maybe one day.
Until one day:
Why not today?
And that day he left the wondering to us.
~~~~
I, and others I talked to, never got the chance to say, “I’m here”, or “How can I help?”, so It wouldn’t feel right to leave this story without sharing this. Just in case. 988 Suicide & Crisis Hotline
###
That’s life, or Darn, it’s late!
This was kind of an interesting prompt but it’s too late in the day for me to really think about it. I could think about it a little, or kinda think about it, but I can’t really think about it. You see, sometime after 8:00 p.m. my mind and body start to slow down. It’s almost like if you work until 4:30 in the afternoon and at 4:00 you just kind of hang it up for the day. So now it’s 9:15 p.m. and my mind and body have been slowing down for 75 minutes and it’s time to go lie down and turn on the radio and open a book.
If only I would have been around here to see this prompt earlier.
Such is life.
That’s life.
That’s the way the ball bounces.
That’s the way the cookie crumbles.
That’s the way the marshmallow topping on a Hostess Sno Ball gets squished up into a tiny coconut sugar bomb and eaten in one explosively delicious mouthful.
(You didn’t hear that one from me)
If it was earlier in the day I would say that it’s not possible by outward appearances or speech to determine what aspects make a person unique because the things that make people unique are all on the inside.
It’s almost 9:30 p.m. now so before I click the little blue button up there in the upper right corner and then go lie down and turn on the radio and open a book I’ll leave you with this bit of advice:
Don’t compare your insides with other people’s outsides.
Pass the popcorn
Nancy at The Elephant’s Trunk gave us a very tough prompt for today’s Song Lyric Sunday: Songs written for movies. Or maybe it was just tough for me? While most movies have soundtracks, not all of them have original songs. A lot of movies, especially nowadays, use popular songs as part of their soundtracks, but those songs weren’t written for the movie, they were just added into the movie, and the prompt wasn’t songs used in movies, but songs written for movies and that narrowed the prompt down a bit. And to make the prompt a little more difficult for me (because who doesn’t like a little self-punishment from time to time?) I eliminated musicals from consideration. That probably wasn’t a great decision because it meant I couldn’t use Purple Rain. 😦 But (there’s always a ‘but’!) if you want to hear the cast of The Color Purple sing Purple Rain, just click here. (Spoiler: those ladies can sing!) as well as this wonderful movie song originally done this way in the movie and this way later on stage.
The first song I picked is If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out from Harold and Maude. The song was written by Cat Stevens and it’s an optimistic song of individuality and choice and it was used twice in the movie. The first time was early in the movie when Maude sang it to the repressed, depressed, and death obsessed Harold. The song was used a second time at the end of the movie which I won’t talk about in case you haven’t seen it. (If you haven’t seen it I’m jealous!)
Here’s an interesting bit of movie – and Minneapolis – trivia if you’re interested. There used to be a movie theater here called the Westgate Theater. It was located in a suburb of Minneapolis and between the middle of 1972 and June 1974, the theater showed nothing but Harold and Maude. A total of 1,957 showings.
I know a lot of people hate the movie, but I love it. Below is Maude singing the Cat Stevens song.
In lieu of lyrics to either song this week I’ll just share a quote from the movie. This took place while Maude was sharing a hookah with Harold and Harold admitted that he had died 17 times (not counting maiming). Maude is intrigued and asks Harold to explain so Harold tells Maude about his staged suicides. He tells her why he decided he enjoys being dead and then he lowers his head and begins to cry. Maude reaches out to him and offers this bit of wisdom.
“A lot of people enjoy being dead. But they are not dead really. They’re just backing away from life. Reach out! Take a chance! Get hurt even. But play as well as you can. Go! Give me an ‘L‘, give me an ‘I’, give me a ‘V’, give me an ‘E’! L-I-V-E. Live! Otherwise, you got nothing nothing to talk about in the locker room.” – Marjorie “Maude” Chardin
The second song I picked beat out both John Travolta looking cool walking the streets of Brooklyn while stayin’ alive, and arguably one of New York’s coolest police detectives of the 70’s, John Shaft. It’s from the end of 1971’s Vanishing Point, a movie that features one of the coolest cars in one of the best car chase movies of the 70’s. The song is Over Me and was written and performed by Bob Segarini and Randy Bishop (performing as Segarini & Bishop). Unfortunately I wasn’t able to find any information on the band. The lightning lyrics are below.
(Start tapping your foot when the piano starts and don’t stop for the next three minutes. Oh, and listen to those horns!)
Owww!
I’m feelin’ kinda lonely gonna be in Tampa only a few days, at the most.
I realize it’s early but I’m getting’ kinda squirrely so I go down stairs for a toast.
I’m clinkin glasses drinkin’ fast
and pretty soon, I think I’ll ask a lady for a dance or two.
I found my legs to test em, and my feet ain’t where I left em
and the music makes me want to move.
I got the rockin’, rollin’, reelin’, feelin’,
somethin’, drunkin’s, comin’ over me.
Yeah, yeah.
Yeah.
(words I can’t make out?)
Now some how or another I am dancin’ like a mother
and I’m lookin’ real cool.
I’m thinkin’ every minute while I’m out there spinnin’
if I fall I’ll really be a fool.
Whizzin’ craze, a vision haze
and pretty soon, collision, made me end up down on the floor.
The band is really playin’ the guitar is almost sailin’
and the music makes me dance some more.
I got the rockin’, rollin’, reelin’, feelin’,
somethin’, drunkin’s, comin’ over me.
Yeah, yeah.
Whao!
(more words I can’t make out?)
Well, now I’m really drunk’n and my heart it a starts to thumpin’
and my chest a-ringin in my ears.
To start a conversation, never call a rare occasion I order up a round of beers.
A woman walkin by me, dark, and I reach out and snag her.
She’s talkin, she’s mad, I’m laughin in my phone
Finesse, I ain’t it’s master, but I guess I must of asked her
somethin’ good because we’re goin home.
I got the rockin’, rollin’, reelin’, feelin’,
somethin’, drunkin’s, comin’ over me.
Yeah, yeah.
Yeah.
I got the rockin’, rollin’, reelin’, feelin’,
somethin’, drunkin’s, comin’ over me.
Yeah, yeah.
Yeah.
I got the rockin’, rollin’, reelin’, feelin’,
somethin’, drunkin’s, comin’ over me.
Yeah, yeah.
Yeah.
I got the rockin’, rollin’, reelin’, feelin’,
somethin’, drunkin’s, comin’ over me.
Yeah, yeah.
Yeah.
Chorus fades out.
(stop tapping foot now. Phew!)
We’re supposed to talk about goals
So what else is new… Another somewhat prying question from the WP DWP folks: How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?
Well, the jokes on them because this is an easy one for me. Why? Because I gave up on goals a long time ago so my answer is never.
Ha! Never!
Never say never says who?
Hey, that’s what I try to do.
But I sometimes do fail,
and then I say, “Oh, hail”,
Cuz regardless things always come through.
(Did I ever tell you I don’t eat beef stew?
You’re probably shocked but it’s true.
You might think me a cretin,
but I don’t like eatin’ meat and
beef stew is something I just won’t chew.)
I don’t understand goals. Unless you’re saving for a house or a new car then you might set a goal to save X dollars a month, and if you’re planning a vacation you pretty much have to have some goals (of course that depends on the vacation) but other than that, what’s the point? Ok, I have to reel that back in a little bit because there is a point to setting a goal and goalsetting obviously helps keep one focused on a task, but when the goal becomes our identity – when we become attached to the goal – I don’t think that’s a good thing.
And unfortunately, I think becoming attached to a goal is common. Or if not attached directly to the actual goal, then to the outcome. And basing our worth on that outcome might be even more common. (And more dangerous) 😦
Our worth, our value, our identity is not based on a goal. We’re all pretty much good just the way we are right in this minute. Yes, you too.
Finally, the words “goal setting” are an anagram for “goaling test” and who needs the pressure of testing themselves all the time? Not me! And if that’s not enough, “goal setting” is also an anagram for “got genitals” and if you talk about your genitals too much people might think you’re weird.
If you’ve read this far and really believe that goals and goal setting are a necessary part of life then I can offer one to you if you want? I’m stealing and paraphrasing this remark from Kurt Vonnegut (who is up in Heaven now). I saw it in a video a long time ago where he was talking about how to construct a story, and I think it might have also been in one of his books(?), but he brought up his Uncle Alex and he said what his Uncle Alex found objectionable about so many human beings was that they didn’t notice when life was good. He went on to say how they, the family, might all be sitting around outside, talking, telling stories and having a good time and Uncle Alex would interrupt the conversation and stop them all and say: “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” So the goal is to stop from time to time and notice when things are nice.
It’s time for the Family, Dude!
Another good song prompt from Nancy this week at Jim’s Song Lyric Sunday: Songs about children/families.
I chose two songs this week because it’s again too difficult to narrow it down to one. The songs – each one about both a child and a family – are by two amazing and underrated (in my opinion) songwriters. The first, by Jason Isbell (formerly of the Drive-By Truckers), is about making a family and the second, by Lucy Kaplansky (formerly a psychologist), is about finding a family.
Both are love songs.
The lyrics to both songs are below the two videos. (Which is another way of saying that the lyrics to both songs are at the bottom!)
One of the great music mysteries of the world to me is why singer/poet/artists like these two (and others) don’t get played on the radio or reach broader audiences. Finding Jason Isbell was easy because of the Drive-By Truckers and because he had visibility doing some stuff with John Prine. But Lucy Kaplansky? For me, it was 1996 and I was at the record store looking at local music and saw her record Flesh and Bone. Lucy wasn’t a local artist, but her album was on the local Red House Records label. I saw that she covered some folks I liked – Gram Parsons, Richard Thompson and Nick Lowe (I didn’t know at the time that she did a Bluegrass-y version of (What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding or a Beatles song) and I bought it and here I am a lot of years later. And now here you are all these later with me and maybe you like her too. Or at least this song. This song which isn’t from her Flesh and Bone album, but her 2004 The Red Thread album.
Letting You Go – Jason Isbell
The nurse helped us buckle your seat in the car
And they sent us on our way, I drove home so slow.
We had no instructions, the first days were hard
but there’s things about babies a woman just knows.
Three in the morning
I lay my hand over your heart
just to know you were safe in your sleep.
When you started walking
I fight back the urge to stay right there beside you
and keep you on your feet.
Being your daddy comes natural.
The roses just know how to grow.
It’s easy to see that you’ll get where you’re going.
The hard part is letting you go,
the hard part is letting you go.
It didn’t take long to see
you got the best of me
and your momma’s merciful heart in your eyes.
And helping her raise you
has taught me to see through the great fog of loneliness
the devil’s disguise.
Being your daddy comes natural.
The roses just know how to grow.
It’s easy to see that you’ll get where you’re going.
But the hard part is letting you go,
the hard part is letting you go.
And now you’ve decided to be someone’s wife
and we’ll walk down the aisle and I’ll give you away.
I wish I could walk with them
back through your life to see
every last minute of every last day.
To hear your first words, and to feel your first heartbreak,
to sing you to sleep when you’re scared of the dark.
The best I can do
is to let myself trust that you know
who’ll be strong enough to carry your heart.
Being your daddy comes natural.
The roses just know how to grow.
It’s easy to see that you’ll get where you’re going.
But the hard part is letting you go,
the hard part is letting you go.
This is Home – Lucy Kaplansky
When I found you I knew that you’d be mine.
It wasn’t my first kiss,
it wasn’t my first time.
It was the first time I gave my heart
when I wasn’t just alone.
I put it in your hands
and I followed you home.
Now I’m on the interstate
wishing I could sleep.
I see you lying in our bed
you’re waiting up for me.
And while I’m taking in the view,
I’m wishin’ I could give you
what I wanted to.
You know I wanted to
This is home.
Where I want to be.
This is home.
Let’s make a family.
Baby you and me, baby you and me.
She’s lying on a bed
in some crowded room.
Trying to sleep
not much else to do.
The faces change around her
they speak to her sometimes.
She’s getting used to being left behind.
When we find her
we will belong to her.
We won’t see her first smile
we won’t hear her first word.
But ours will be the first hearts
she holds in her hands.
She can keep ‘em beside her
in her very own room.
This is home.
Where I want to be.
This is home.
Let’s make a family.
Baby you and me, baby you and me.
This is home.
Where I want to be.
This is home.
Let’s make a family.
This is home.
Where I want to be.
This is home.
Let’s make a family.
Baby you and me.
Baby you and me.
Baby you and me.
Baby you and me.
The Bethany
From Jenne and C.E. is The Unicorn Challenge for March 22, 2024.
The challenge: one picture and a story up to 250 words.
This snapshort sails in at 250 words.
The Bethany
You can’t see it from here, but I’m on the right side of the photo, about three slips back. Not me, but my beauty, lit up like all the others in the marina and looking like we’re all ready for the Schooner Wharf Boat Parade. Minus the parade.
She’s nothing tremendously fancy, just a simple monohull. Forty-five feet, an 85 HP Volvo Penta engine, three cabins and two heads, one with a hot and cold-water shower. Full galley with a built-in microwave and coffee maker. A bit unnecessary, the coffee maker, since I don’t drink coffee, but it was part of the package. A portable solar panel and emergency raft – just in case – are tucked away under the cockpit table. I could go on and on, but I don’t want to start sounding like the friends who invite you over for coffee and cake and then proceed to spend two hours showing you their vacation photos. She’s a thing of beauty if I say so myself. I’m immensely proud of her and I’ll leave it at that.
She’s named The Bethany. Named after my wife. I thought it was the least I could do since it was the money I received from the life insurance policy my sweetheart had maintained for sixteen years and three months that bought her. Bethany – the real Bethany, not The Bethany – well, they never found her and I’m not one to kiss and tell. Let’s just say she’s here and there and everywhere.
Te quiro.
The Asylum
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers.
THE DETAILS:
Friday Fictioneers: 1 picture, 100 words, scores of people from around the world sharing their creativity and vision. Feel free to join in, just visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to find out how.
THE PROMPT:
This week’s photo prompt courtesy of, and copyright by, Roger Bultot. Thank you, Roger!
THE STORY:
The Asylum
Terrence followed the doctor down the maze of halls; the weak gray cast of the incandescent fixtures turning his stomach. The doctor’s drone covered the noises coming from the rooms they passed: screams, laughter, gibberish.
“Sorry?” Terrence said.
“Your brother was found in an alley. Incoherent, covered in blood,” the doctor repeated. A half-eaten body in front of him. Ah, here we are.”
Terrence followed the doctor into the room. His brother, chained to the bed, gazed at him through red eyes.
Moving quickly, Terrence slit the doctor’s throat and went to work freeing his brother.
They’d both feast tonight.
Special Delivery
Today is Tuesday and it’s Fandango’s 141st Story Starter. Fandango provides the start, and the rest is up to us. Come and play, it’s fun!
Special Delivery
Allison arrived home to discover, propped up against her front door, a mysterious package addressed to her but with no return address.
“Well that’s odd,” she said as she bent down and picked up the package.
Holding the package under her arm she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. She set the box down on the dining room table and turned it over and around, this way and that, and still not seeing any markings she decided to open up the baffling bundle. She tore off the brown wrapping paper and was presented with a plain brown cardboard box.
“Well now that really is odd. No sender, no shipper, no addresses. Well that makes… no sense,” she said and smiled at her little fling at wordplay. “Who would send me something like this?”
The box was glued shut so Allison reached two fingers under the flap and pulled open first one side and then the next. She pulled the flaps apart and—
“Well, for heaven’s sake,” she said as she brushed the soot off of her face. She watched as a card slowly drifted down from the ceiling. She picked it up and read.
“Well, now how thoughtful is that?” she said as she smoothed her not too badly singed hair back down. “But I think they got it wrong. Honey? I think this package was for you?”
“Meep, meep!”
“BOOM” graphic from Arvin61r58 at Openclipart.org.
Time Heals?
From Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch is this week’s story challenge.
March 12, 2024, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about leaving a leak. What (or who) is leaking? How can you use the leak to create tension? Expand the idea of leaks. Go where the prompt leads!
Time Heals?
You wouldn’t think such a thing possible, but he had, at some point, lost count of the years. It had been so long and now—
He would dutifully visit every year on the day. He’d pick the weeds, touch the stone, maybe say a prayer on the chance someone was listening. Sometimes he would sit cross-legged on the grass and try to make sense of things. And then one year he just stopped.
But his mind never emptied of memories, and emotions would sometimes be strong. Like today, on this anniversary.
He wiped a tear and tried to smile.
###
What everyone needs
It’s Song Lyric Sunday and the theme suggested by Nancy today is Songs about war and/or peace.
War (the act of, not the band; the band was pretty cool) is maybe one of the worst realities of our lives on earth. War is depressing, and songs about war – either for or against – are more depressing yet, so to balance out war songs and anti-war songs, here are two songs about peace. The first song is by Tom Paxton from 1972 and his message is simple:
“Peace. Peace will. Peace will come, and let it begin with me.”
The second song is from Bob Marley and the Wailers from 1971. In this song Bob asks the questions I think a lot of us would like to have answered and he offers us an option that might be more rewarding:
“We should really love each other in peace and harmony.”
Good luck, huh? Yeah, so maybe I’m a cynic, but I’m not jaded and I still believe.
(For a lot of people music is (or brings) peace, or music is maybe the peaceful place you go to. If you’re like me and believe that, if you’d rather turn off the news and turn on some tunes, if you’d prefer to let there be songs to fill the air, then this (peaceful) song is for you to enjoy)
Peace, peace will
Peace will come
And let it begin with me
We, we need
We need peace
And let it begin with me
Oh, my own life
Is all I can hope to control
Oh, let my life
Be lived for the good
Good of my soul
Let it bring peace
Sweet peace
Peace will come
And let it begin with me
Peace, peace will
Peace will come
And let it begin with me
Oh, my own life
Is all I can hope to control
Oh, let my life
Be lived for the good
Good of my soul
Let it bring peace
Sweet peace
Peace will come
And let it begin with me
Peace, peace will
Peace will come
And let it begin with me
With me
Why’s this fussing and fighting?
I want to know, Lord, I want to know
Why’s this bumping and boring?
I want to know, Lord, I want to know now
We should really love each other
(love each other)
In peace and harmony
(peace and harmony)
Instead, we’re fussing and fighting
(fussing and fighting)
And them workin’ iniquity
(workin’ iniquity)
Why’s this fussing and fighting?
I want to know, Lord, I want to know
Lord. I want to know
(I want to know)
I want to know now
Why’s this cheating and backbiting?
(I want to know)
I want to know
Oh, Lord
(I want to know)
I want to know now
(Stop your fussing and fighting, stop your fussing and fighting)
(Stop your fussing and fighting, stop your fussing and fighting)
We should really love each other
(love each other)
In peace and harmony
(peace and harmony)
Instead, instead, we’re fussing and fighting
(fussing and fighting)
Like we ain’t supposed to be
(ain’t supposed to be)
Tell me why.
Why’s this fussing and fighting?
I want to know, Lord, I want to know, someone, please
Why’s this bumping and boring?
(Bumping and boring)
(I want to know)
I want to know
(I want to know)
Lord, tell me why
Did you make it all the way down here? Thanks for reading and enjoy the week ahead!
The Shell
From Jenne and C.E. is The Unicorn Challenge for March 15, 2024.
The challenge: one picture and a story up to 250 words.
This snapshort is 150 words.
I was never much of a beach person, but she was so I tried to be. Walking the shore early one morning she stopped and pulled me by the hand.
“What?”
“Stop for a sec,” she said as she squatted down and picked something up. “Here.”
“What is it?”
She held a shell in her open palm. “It’s for you.”
“It’s a brown shell.”
“It’s a magic shell.”
“Magic!” I laughed and asked, “Why’s that?”
“Because it’s yours now.”
I slid the shell into my pocket and thought no more about it.
***
It ended, but it didn’t end. Many years later I learned the shell she gave that morning me was a lightning whelk. A left-handed lightning whelk. The three-inch shell now sits in a small sherbet glass on my bedroom dresser. And I was wrong, the shell is orange, not brown.
And she was right, the shell is magic.
Slowing Down
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers.
THE DETAILS:
Friday Fictioneers: 1 picture, 100 words, scores of people from around the world sharing their creativity and vision. Feel free to join in, just visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to find out how.
THE PROMPT:
This week’s photo prompt courtesy of, and copyright by, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thank you, Rochelle!
THE STORY:
Slowing Down
It was our dream home, but sometimes life has other plans and that was the case with us. So, I sit on the porch and look out over the gulf and think about what was.
Her chair sits empty.
The kids stopped coming years ago but two of the grandkids still come down each spring. I imagine they’ll eventually find more exciting things to do with their time than visit an old man and his memories.
So, I sit on the porch and look out over the gulf and think about what was.
While my love sits next to me.
###
“Life’s the blink of an eye.
My, my.
Ridin’ in the slow, slow lane.
Blue angels paint the sky.”
Good luck
No, of course not. What a silly question!
Wait, if I lie will something bad happen to me?
I think putting too much faith in luck – good or bad – might be a dangerous thing. If we believe in good luck might that make us less cautious? I’m feeling lucky today and that train isn’t coming very fast. Hold on! If we believe in bad luck then could it make us frightful of living and maybe depressed over circumstances, or come to believe that nothing good ever happens to poor old us?
I don’t know.
If we believe that a decision we make or an action we take today can influence something in the future does that limit our enjoyment of life?
I don’t know that either.
Maybe something like random luck like, “Hey, look, I just found a dollar bill on the ground!” is good luck and “Oh, darn, I lost a dollar bill earlier today.” is bad luck. Stuff that’s random we can’t do anything about and it just happens and we give it the label. But when we get into thinking we can force luck or avoid luck then it gets kind of iffy.
I think the key is to try and remove as many labels from our thinking as possible. I found a dollar today is simply fortunate and I lost a dollar today is nothing more than unfortunate. There’s nothing good or bad or mystical to read into either of the two situations; they just happened and they just are.
100 feet
Today is Tuesday and it’s Fandango’s 140th Story Starter. Fandango provides the start, and the rest is up to us.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jessica knew she finally had to confront her fears.
She looked down and fought back the nausea that swept upwards from her gut. It’s so far down, she thought. Stop. Don’t think that. Not now. She took a breath, held it briefly and let it go. Soon she would follow the breath into nothing.
100 feet.
Standing on the bridge and looking down at the river below her Jessica thought of turning back. This, she thought, is really a stupid idea. I can change my mind, it’s ok. But then, No! It is too late. It’s what I wanted. What I decided to do. What I planned. I’m gonna finish this.
Her heart was thumping. It was pounding so hard she could feel her entire body shaking. The fear was that strong. Don’t think about it, she thought. It’s just taking a step. One step is all. Don’t think. One step and done.
“Now or never,” she whispered. The fact that she whispered made her smile because assuming anyone was close enough to have heard her, no one would be able to hear anything less than a shout above the rush of the river below. Why whisper now?, she wondered. What an odd thought to have.
She’d driven past this river, and over this river, and now she was standing 100 feet above it. Who would have thought?
It felt good to smile at this point in time, but not good enough for her to change her mind and call this off.
She closed her eyes and took one step and…
Free fall.
Jessica was dropping at a speed of somewhere between 40-50 miles per hour.
She screamed. She was falling headfirst. She flung her arms wide. She opened her eyes and gasped as she saw the river speeding upwards to meet her. I’m crazy? What did I do? Why did I do this? Why?! Not every fear has to be confronted. And certainly not like this.
Why. Why. Why.
Jessica was surprised at how many thoughts her brain could process in just over two seconds and then the bungee reached its maximum stretch and it was over and she began the rebound. Up, almost to the jump platform but not quite, and back down. Up and down, up and down, slower and slower until she was barely moving.
Her heart was slowing down and her body felt as if every one of her 600 muscles were suddenly relaxed.
I did it, she thought as the winch pulled her slowly back up to the jump platform.
“I did it,” she yelled. And then she laughed.
###
Crabby
Oh, look, it’s another in an endless supply of WordPress daily prompts!
Well, let me think… I like a whole bunch of different animals but the one animal I would not compare myself to is a crab. Yes, I’m talking about those sideways walking things with the funny joints and the really long legs that people love to line up and eat by the bucketful at Asian buffets.
Really? Why wouldn’t you compare yourself to a crab you’re maybe wondering. I mean it’s simple really. I don’t want to boast or sound egotistical, but I’m a very giving and generous person. I give of myself and I’ll give what I have. And crabs, well, crabs, they’re just…
shellfish.
Oh God
Today at Jim’s Song Lyric Sunday prompt, Nancy suggests we share a song about God or the afterlife.
After removing Country, Gospel and Dylan’s Christian trilogy from the mix I was able to narrow things down. I decided against going crazy with Prince and going to heaven with John Prine, and settled on Motörhead’s God Was Never on Your Side.
Maybe I shouldn’t, but I like Motörhead.
Talk to different people and I think it’s likely you’ll get different descriptions of Motörhead. They’re metal. They’re thrash. They’re this. They’re trash. I’ll go with the definition provided by the band’s founder, and only constant member throughout their 40-year run, bassist, and ex-Jimi Hendrix roadie, Lemmy Kilmister.
“We’re Motörhead, and we play Rock and Roll”
Lemmy formed Motörhead (slang for a speed freak) in 1975, shortly after being fired from the psychedelic rock band Hawkwind with whom he’d been playing bass guitar since 1971. Traveling from the US to Canada, Lemmy was arrested and charged with possession of cocaine when he was only(?!) carrying amphetamines. He spent the night in jail before the band bailed him out. He played one more show with them and then they kicked him out. He would later say that he wasn’t fired from the band for using drugs, but for using the wrong kind of drugs. A reference (or a dig?) to Hawkwind’s frequent use of LSD.
I said that maybe I shouldn’t like Motörhead. Putting the music aside, it was difficult for me to really get into the band because of Lemmy’s apparent love of German military regalia and Nazi memorabilia. On the cover of the band’s self-titled first album, the three-spiked helmet worn by the band’s icon, “War Pig”, or “Snaggletooth”, had a small, faint Nazi swastika visible on the helmet’s second spike. The symbol was removed from re-releases of the album, and it never appeared again. As a collector of Nazi paraphernalia and uniforms – he claimed that the “bad guys”, Napoleon, the Confederates, the Nazis, had the best uniforms – Lemmy had denied any Nazi sympathies, and other musicians commented in his defense. Maybe his denial and the corroboration of others is enough and maybe it isn’t, I don’t know… Should I/we be more politically correct in music choices? Maybe. That might mean we need to remove a lot of songs, including songs by groups like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones just to name a couple, from the radio and from our mp3 players. I’m going off topic here.
(Does anyone else still use an mp3 player or is it just me?)
(Does anyone still listen to the radio?)
If you’re wondering, the ‘o’ umlaut in the band’s name isn’t there to change the pronunciation. The name is pronounced just as it’s spelled: Moterr-head, not Motuhr-head. Lemmy said he was inspired by Blue Öyster Cult, and added the umlaut because he thought it made the band’s name look scarier.
Back to the song, God Was Never on Your Side. I don’t like talking about religion here, so I’ll just say that I like this song and not because it’s necessarily anti-religion, but because it’s so forthright in it’s condemnation of people who claim to be acting in the name of God and under the banner of religion. It points a finger at the hypocrisy of the people who use religion and God to control others and take advantage of others. I don’t think the song is trying to disprove God, but to say that God isn’t on the side of imposters. The line Let right or wrong decide is maybe telling us to think for ourselves and not trust those who claim to speak for God.
About The Beatles and The Rolling Stones:
“I did like the Stones, but they were never anywhere near the Beatles – not for humor, not for originality, not for songs, not for presentation. All they had was Mick Jagger dancing about. Fair enough, the Stones made great records, but they were always shit on stage, whereas the Beatles were the gear.” – Lemmy
Here you go. Kind of an acoustic metal ballad rocker thing that you may or may not appreciate by a band you may or may not like. The song is from their 2006 album, Kiss of Death.
If the stars fall down on me and the sun refused to shine.
Then may the shackles be undone, may all the old words cease to rhyme.
If the sky turned into stone, it will matter not at all.
For there is no Heaven in the sky, Hell does not wait for our downfall.
Let the voice of reason chime,
let the pious vanish for all time.
God’s face is hidden, all unseen.
You can’t ask Him what it all means.
He was never on your side.
God was never on your side.
Let right or wrong alone decide.
God was never on your side.
See ten thousand ministries, see the holy, righteous dogs.
They claim to heal, but all they do is steal.
Abuse your faith, cheat, and rob.
If God is wise, why is He still when these false prophets call Him friend?
Why is He silent?
Is He blind?
Are we abandoned in the end?
Let the sword of reason shine,
let us be free of prayer and shrine.
God’s face is hidden, turned away.
He never has a word to say.
He was never on your side.
God was never on your side.
Let right or wrong alone decide,
God was never on your side.
No, no, no.
He was never on your side.
God was never on your side.
Never, never, never, never.
Never on your side.
Never on your side.
God was never on your side.
Never on your side.
Flowers
Welcome to the Friday Fictioneers.
THE DETAILS:
Friday Fictioneers: 1 picture, 100 words, scores of people from around the world sharing their creativity and vision. Feel free to join in, just visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to find out how.
THE PROMPT:
This week’s photo prompt courtesy of, and copyright by, Rowena Curtin. Thank you, Rowena!
THE STORY:
Flowers
She bent down and picked up the flowers. Written in a messy scribble, the card read:
You might disagree, but I wonder if we can’t excuse the boy’s shyness and shaky handwriting, as well as his failure to remember to sign the card(!), on the butterflies in a young stomach? After all, what does a 12-year-old boy know of expressions of love?
Isn’t the gesture itself precious, nonetheless?
###
Read other Fictioneers, or share your own story!, here.
Michael B. Fishman
Michaelsfishbowl 