THE MAGIC CHOCOLATES...

A short story for a workshop...

Part 2 of 2

____

THE MAGIC CHOCOLATES - Part 2

The receptionist looked up lazily at the sound of the door squeaking, and upon spying Elmer sprang up at attention, trembling. Her eyes reflected pools of admiration, and puzzlement as well, as though she were seeing Elmer for the first time and yet wondering how she had missed so much before.

"Elmer, hon, how are you today?" she asked, fluttering her lashes.

He stopped short, glaring at her. Being a social reject normally, his first impulse was to assume she mocked him. But the obvious expression of love on her face, complete with blushed cheeks and a shy smile, made Elmer think again. Oh my gosh! The spell was working!

"I couldn't be better, my dear!" he replied, heading for the main office with a dance in his step. As he passed the secretarial pool, the women rushed to the glass to press their noses against it and swoon at him like a chorus of bewildered angels. Elmer felt better by the minute. Those magic chocolates were good stuff!

Finally, he arrived at Angie's office, and that girl pounded away at her keyboard before stopping short. She looked up to meet Elmer's eyes. Entranced, her blue ones did the tango with his brown eyes in a passion tryst known only to their hearts. Then, the secretary rose and walked into his waiting arms. Yes, those chocolates were the best ever!

"Oh, no!" The cry echoed up and down the hallways. Elmer and Angie, startled from their embrace gazed out to see all of the women in the company lined up and down the hallways, watching them, tissues in hands, crying in dismay.

"Elmer!" they chanted, down to each lady. "We love you!" 

Elmer, upon seeing this felt pretty good about himself. His heart swelled with pride and danced on top of the world. Pushing Angie aside, he walked to the closest female, kissing her on the cheek, moving to the next and whispering in her ear. Grabbing another, he dipped her while smooching the lady on the mouth--it was wonderful. Creeping along the line, he had love for each and every lady. It was a homely man's dream come true! 

"ELMER!"

He turned to see Angie standing next to him, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes blazing. "Elmer, I don't think I like you anymore."

"WHAAAT?"

"Look at you! Flirting with every girl in sight. You're disgusting! I thought I saw something special in you. But obviously I was wrong."

"Angie!" Elmer whined. 

"You loser!" she replied, slapping him across the cheek. With a humph, she stormed off.

"Yeah, what an idiot!" one girl from the crowd piped in, as she turned and walked away.

"Yeah, heck on you, Romeo!" another one declared as several more women marched away with hard angry steps.

"Angie's right! What a loser!" Soon a raucous mob grew from their ranks and one girl slapped him as she left, then another, and another until finally Elmer ran for the door before they injured him. The receptionist ran behind and locked him out, shaking her fist at the bewildered man.

Despondent Elmer walked to the park and returned to the bench under an oak tree to ponder his plight. He had it all, but then the spell had quit working. He wished he could talk to that elf.

"Hiya, Elmer! Looks like things didn't work out, eh?" It was the elf, suddenly appearing on the bench beside him.

"Yeah, well, smarty! That spell didn't work. They turned on me. They turned on me bad."

"Hey now, sonny! We gave you the power to attract women. Keeping them is another affair entirely. Might I suggest you try a self-help book or something to learn yourself some sensitivity and manners."

"What?"

"Yeah, laddie! We gave you all we could, but you blew it yourself by being boorish and selfish and such!"

"Oh Gawd!" Elmer replied. "What was I thinking? Poor Angie! I didn't treat her very well, did I?"

"No.  You certainly did not."

"Well, I guess I'd better go and learn some manners at that," Elmer stated, rising to go. "See ya, elf!"

"Bye, laddie!" the elf replied. He watched as the forlorn figure walked down the street and into the public library. 

When Elmer arrived at the information window, the librarian turned and upon seeing him blushed, as a shy smile danced between her reddened cheeks.

"Well, what can I get for a handsome fellow like you today?"

"A book on manners...and a chance to have dinner and a movie with you."

"Certainly," she said.

From behind the closed stacks, the elf watched, grinning. "He never really needed those magic chocolates," he murmured. "Good luck, laddie! he whispered. "And mind your manners!"

Copyright 2005 JO Janoski 

THE MAGIC CHOCOLATES...

A short story for a workshop...

Part 1 of 2

____

THE MAGIC CHOCOLATES - Part 1

Elmer Wiggins sat on the cold ground, covered from head to toe with thick slimy mud, his face an unrecognizable blob with moveable chunks of dirt where he blinked his eyes and a gap where he opened his mouth. The accident happened so fast, he still wasn't certain of the sequence of events. All he remembered was slipping on mud and losing his balance. 

He had been walking along Shady Avenue, rushing to make it to the insurance office where his dream girl worked as a secretary. What a vision of beauty she was--long blond hair reaching all the way to her waist that swished from side to side while she swung her hips walking  with high heels clicking on linoleum. Such lips, red like strawberries and eyes as blue as an autumn sky! Yes, Elmer was in love. But Angie had shown no interest in him whatsoever. 

He dragged himself to his feet, wiped his face clean, and took an accounting of the damages. The flowers were splattered far and wide in the mud, looking like a crazed funeral spread. Most of the posies were covered in sludge leaving the bouquet in a hopeless array of filthy fragments. One clean flower caught his eye, and he reached down and picked it up, a single red rose that somehow missed the carnage. He sniffed its fragrance and sighed, next spying the heart-shaped box of chocolates several feet away. Apparently it had fallen from his grasp and glided the distance like on ice. Elmer wiped a tear from his eye as he walked to fetch the chocolates.

Picking up the red box, he slumped to the ground with tears running down his cheeks in rivulets of despair. He had spent the last of his money on the expensive gifts, and now he had nothing with which to impress his lady. 

"Hey, fella, what are you crying about?" The little voice seemed to spring out of nowhere.

Glancing about, Elmer spied the tiny man sitting on the curb behind him.

"My flowers and candy...all ruined," he murmured, settling himself next to the elfin figure. "Now I have no way to impress Angie."

The tiny man smiled with a toothy grin, wrinkling up his cheeks in mischief. "Sure, you do! You have the chocolates. The box is dirty and dented, but the sweets are still good."

"Yeah, like I'm going to give her that muddy box of candy." Elmer's cheek still shone from the moisture of tears washing down them.

"No, silly. Those are magic chocolates. Don't you see the little silver "M" logo on the bottom of the box."

Startled, Elmer searched the carton and there, sure enough, was a silver "M" on the bottom of the box. "Wow!" he said. "I didn't know that meant they were magic."

"Sure! You get one wish per box. That's all you get though, one wish with your first bite of chocolate, no matter how many chocolates you eat. So you must make that one wish a good one."

"Hmmph," Elmer murmured, reaching in and pulling out a piece of candy. He was careful to choose a chocolate-covered cherry, his favorite. Turning it around and around in his fingers, he surveyed the sweet from every side before plopping it in his mouth.

"Okay, Dude! Now what's your wish?" the elf asked.

Elmer looked at the little fellow, color rushing to his face in excitement. He swallowed the chocolate as fast as he could, not even taking the time to enjoy the plump sweet cherry, gulping it down whole. "I want to be handsome, hunky, and attractive as all heck," he said. A smug look passed over his face as he spoke, as though he were about to exact revenge on the world who had cruelly punished him for being ugly. "Oh, boy! I can't wait to see!" he said, dashing to a store window to study his reflection. "Hey, I still look the same!" he said.

"Of course, you do, poor boy! The magic is a spell! Your looks haven't changed, but the ladies will see you as being hunky and handsome all the same." The elf grinned further. "It's like a magic spell on all who gaze at you--they'll see other than what is there."

"Hmmph, well, okay," Elmer replied. "I guess I'll head over to the insurance office and see how it goes.  You coming?"

"Oh no, my good man! I'm a busy elf with a million magic matters to see to. Good luck to you, sir!" The little fellow extended his hand and Elmer grasped and shook it in appreciation.

"Thank you for telling me about the magic chocolates," Elmer said. 

"Good luck to you, laddie!" the elf replied. In the next instant, poof! He disappeared.

"Gee, maybe I should have asked if this spell comes with a guarantee," Elmer murmured as he started off for the office.

When he arrived, there was no doubt the spell worked.

Copyright 2005 JO Janoski 

The Real World...

a fable... 

Written for a Workshop

The church boasted only a tiny congregation, but they were a tight-knit group, meeting every Sunday for services, playing bingo on Friday night, and holding lots of bake sales. Everyone knew everybody else and their spouses and children. The group was like family.

One bright summer Sunday, as Pastor Givens gave his sermon, what should happen but a slimy slithering snake dragged itself down the aisle to stop at the front, just below Pastor Givens pulpit.

"What is that creature doing in here?" Mrs. Smith whined. 

"Vile thing! Who left the door open?" Mr. Delancey declared.

The outrage spread like a tidal wave over the congregation until finally Pastor Givens took his sermon manuscript, rolled it up, and got down from his lofty pulpit to shoo the creature away. As he bent to swat the reptile, its ugly head lifted up and it stuck out its obnoxious, forked tongue, hissing.

The pastor stepped back in alarm while a stunned congregation waited in silence.

The serpent spoke, his tiny green eyes alive with horror. "Don't put me out! I'm lost. Can't I rest here for a while? Don't I deserve a chance to be here, too?" He stretched his head toward the congregation, hissing and showing his ugly tongue again. "Am I not pretty enough for you?" the snake asked.

The pastor felt the need to explain. "Excuse me, Mr. Snake," he said. "It isn't that you are too ugly. You're just different. You're a snake and we are humans, after all."

"Just because I'm different doesn't mean I am not one of God's creatures," the snake replied. "If I were a pretty bird, then I'm guessing you would let me stay." 

With that remark, he twisted, then spun in circles before whoosh, disappearing in a flash. In the next instant, a fluttering white dove appeared on the spot. It lifted and flexed its graceful wings. "Am I pretty enough for you now?" the creature asked.

"Yes,  you are," the Pastor replied. "I guess this means we shouldn't judge each other by appearances, since true beauty is inside, beyond where the eye can see. Apparently you were a beautiful bird inside.

"Yes, that's right!" said Mrs. Smith from the first pew.

"Absolutely!" said Mr. Delancey from the back.

The Congregation all joined in, congratulating themselves on a lesson well learned, smiling and shaking each other's hands.

"NO! It doesn't mean that at all," the dove said. "The moral of the story is..." the dove spread its wings and spun faster than the eye could see, coming to an abrupt stop to reveal the snake had returned. "The moral is 'never trust a snake.'" 

Having said that, he slithered down the aisle and out the door, never to be seen again...that is, he was never seen in the form of a snake again. From that day, the congregation was never quite sure what they were looking at. 

Copyright 2005 JO Janoski 

Coffee is the Best Medicine...

October 23, 2005

...The Strange Happenings in a Coffee Shop...

 

Last episode: Brenda, jealous of the Health Inspector Supervisor flirting with her love, Alfred, came to my place and I fitted her out with a sexy make-over to go back and win her man.

_____

Brenda and I arrived at the coffee shop to find the Supervisor whispering what were probably especially sweet nothings in Alfred's ear while he sipped on a large mug of the shop's primo Colombian blend. His face wore a grin of satisfaction so huge it could only come from two methods of simultaneous happiness attacking him at the same time merging in sweet harmony. Coffee and sweet nothings can do that to a man. Spying this, Brenda's expression of mortification tore at my heart. She truly did love him; it was obvious.

"How can I get his attention with all that going on?" she asked.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," I responded. Gazing around looking for inspiration,  I took note of Rose doling out coffee from one of her big glass pots. "I've got it!" I said. "You've just become Alfred's personal waitress!"

Rose who was very proud of her waitressing skills, agreed to Brenda, an amateur, working her counter -- but only barely. She didn't cotton to the idea of someone else dishing out java in her place, but with some arm-twisting and pleas to save Brenda's romance, she agreed. We put a saucy little white apron on Brenda and touched up her make-up. Standing back, I surveyed her. Yes, she was ready. 

"Okay, you go girl!" I said. 

"I will!" she replied triumphantly.

I took a seat at the counter to watch. Brenda slithered up with all the sultry steamy air she could muster, an equally simmering pot of the best java clutched in her right hand.

"Refill on your coffee, honey?" she asked.

Alfred looked up and his face transformed with an expression that can only be described as a combination of curiosity, hungry, and the odd way a person appears trying to cipher long division in his head. I could tell she looked familiar to him, but he had no clue how to place her. My make-over of Brenda was that good. Her own mother would not know her; but if she did, she'd be embarrassed by her young one's lack of modesty. 

Pouring his coffee in a long lingering flow while leaning close, she almost touched poor Alfred, making lots of heat between them. "There you go, sweetie!" she mouthed in a murmur from deep in her throat. Her eyes remained riveted to his in a hypnotic connection until she finally turned and walked away. Alfred's eyes followed her with longing.

The Supervisor watched all of this with dismay. She leaned closer to Alfred and blew in his ear, but he pushed her aside as he latched his gaze on Brenda.

"I don't think I like where this is going," Rose said from the sidelines. "If he rejects the Supervisor, she'll get back to doing her job and then for sure she'll issue me a health violation...maybe even shut my coffee shop down."

I looked at Rose in dismay. She was right. In panic, I gazed at the Super, then at Brenda, swinging next around to Alfred. Gee, I'd made a mess of things. 

There is something to be said about having a filthy mind. It didn't take long for true inspiration to hit me with a wallop. I called Brenda over and whispered in her ear, taking delight in how her face lit up as I spoke. Giving her a healthy thumbs up, I sent her back in. 

The Super was back at it, luring Alfred into her grasp, having unbuttoned her blouse and starting a lap dance. I nodded to Brenda, and with an oomph, she jumped up on the counter in front of Alfred. Looking at me first for reassurance, she danced -- swaying slowly back and forth, then faster. Stiletto heels and vibrating hips were all Alfred could see, but it was enough. He couldn't take his eyes off her. With a wink, she jumped down and took a seat next to him, making Alfred the happy middle of a doll sandwich. Brenda had just become part of a new, interesting threesome. Each lady had half of Alfred, and everyone was happy!

And I was a happy woman, reveling in my success at making over people to be attractive, wanted, and sensual. I never would have thought I could be successful at such a thing, I mean I'm sort of school-marmish looking myself. But hey, obviously I'm an artist at heart!

Loud voices broke into my egotistical thoughts as I looked over to see Butch, Rose's favorite big guy, bawling like a baby at the other end of the counter. Now, what would make such a manly man cry like that? I grabbed my coffee and headed over to see...

_________

I'll be taking the month of November off to participate in National Novel Writing Month. This story will resume in the beginning of December. 

To be Continued

Copyright 2005 JO Janoski

IN THE NEWS...

Crashing planes, puppies, old wallets, and Grateful Un-dead

Thank Gawd Nature Called!

Teen Escapes as Plane Crashes Home

In  light of local pet abuse this week, here is a good story...

Puppies Saved from Sewer

Remarkable!

Man and His Wallet Reunited

Oops! Sorry 'bout that!

Man Wakes Up After Declared Dead

In the News...

Lazy Dog, Ricky Martin, and a Poor Cat

I'd take him!

Lazy British Police Dog Relieved of Duty

Poor baby!

Ricky Martin is bored!

Ghastly! Who would do this!

Cat has tail skinned!

From My Book Shelf...

A Book for All Pittsburghers

I found a web site today for a link I'd like to share. You see, one Christmas recently my brother gave me a book as a gift. It's called Millhunks and Renegades by Anita Kulina .  Historical, the brownish orange cover glows with a  steel mill scene, and inside the pages tell the story of an equally fiery population. It's all about Pittsburgh! Specifically it is a book about the Greenfield-Hazelwood area of the city, the neighborhood where I grew up--but this is actually a story for all Pittsburghers. 

Anita Kulina starts at the beginning when that area was simply wilderness and traces the terrain, history, and  people up to the present. She more than successfully captures the evolving rambunctious spirit of that Pittsburgh mill neighborhood from its inception.  In  later chapters, she relates the magnificent experience of growing up in Greenfield in the 50's. I'm telling you, when I read the book I wore a smile for every page. Absolutely delightful! The Irish, the Italian, the Slovaks--the misbehaving--it's all in there. From tribes and trappers all the way through to the town today. It is a beautiful book with an abundance of fine drawings to serve as illustrations. First-rate! Ms. Kulina's research is amazing in itself. 

So, if you're a typical Pittsburgher who grew up in a mill neighborhood in the Mon Valley, or if you're curious about Pittsburgh's roots--then get this book. I don't know Anita Kulina, and she's not paying me to say all this. I just loved the book so much I want to spread the word. 

You can get it from this web site:  Millhunks and Renegades

A CAMEL STORY...

Just a fun little story I did for a workshop...

Trudy's feet ached in the red sandals. She'd been walking for blocks and still no luck. The day had started so well--she wore her favorite red shoes. Well, they were her favorites. But to be honest, they didn't fit well. Anyway, she wore them because she always felt good about herself when she donned the sandals and strutted her stuff.

Working at the zoo, perhaps that wasn't the best place to wear your favorite sandals, either. But she did. Now it was too late to go back and fix things.

They always were a loose fit and wouldn't you know it--she tripped and fell while closing the gate to the camel cage. And wouldn't you know it--Big Bess, the oldest female, got loose and took off. That darned camel trotted at high speed through the park and into town, disappearing somewhere between Fourth and Fifth Avenues. It happened so fast, no one at the zoo had noticed. It was dawn, feeding time; so there were no crowds of onlookers either.

Now here she was, with a bag of camel munchies looking for Big Bess. You wouldn't think it would be easy to lose a camel; but, by golly, that is just what she had done. 

It wasn't until she looked behind the town's big exhibition hall that she spied the animal, poking her head up in some nearby trees, scavenging for a snack.

"Bess! Come on, baby! Let's go back to the zoo!" Trudy threw a lasso up and roped Bess's neck with the first try; but when she tugged the rope, Bess wouldn't budge.

"Look, I got some goodies for you!" Trudy waved her bag of camel treats at the animal, then reached in and got one, holding it up for Bess to see. Normally, the camel would bend down and take it straight from Trudy's hand; but today she wasn't biting. Trudy tugged the rope once more, but to no avail. It appeared Bess had no intention of going back to the zoo.

"Having some trouble there?" a voice inquired.

Trudy turned to see, of all things, a clown, standing behind her. Red bulbous nose; orange fly-away hair; white face; lips lined in a rainbow of blue, orange, and red; a polka-dot suit with a jazzy red bow tie; plus the biggest clown shoes she had ever seen. They stretched out a foot onto the walkway. "Yeah, I'm having trouble. Bessie here got away on me this morning; and now I've got to get her back to the zoo--but she refuses to move from this spot."

"Oh, I see. She probably wants to hang around here because of the circus." The clown pointed to the exhibition hall behind them. "We've got animals, and we're setting up today. She probably smells the other creatures."

"Well, that's no help. I've got to get her back before my boss sees she is missing."

The clown rolled back and forth on his huge clown feet while he pondered the problem.  Finally, he spoke. "Have you tried telling her a joke?"

"What?"

"Tell her a joke!"

"With all due respect, Mr. Clown, I don't believe that camel speaks English." Trudy frowned. Was this guy serious?

"Well, I'm pretty sure she is an Indian camel, but I doubt she speaks Hindi--it's too complicated for camels. So give English a try. I'll bet my bottom dollar she speaks English."

"You've got to be kidding!"

"No, really. Try a knock-knock joke." The clown's rainbow smile reached to both ears.

Trudy sighed. "KNOCK KNOCK!" she yelled to Bessie.

The camel didn't budge.

"WHO'S THERE?" Trudy continued, taking Bess's line.

"WASSA-A-A-A!" Trudy's cheeks reddened as she spoke. No response, so she continued.

"WASSA-A-A-A WHO?" she said, murmuring, "Oh, this is hopeless!" 

"WASSUP!" Trudy roared, then threw her hands up and walked in a circle of frustration. The clown shook his head in disdain.

"Please don't tell another joke!" the voice was smooth and resonant and came from up above. "If you promise not to tell any more jokes, I'll come back to the zoo with you." It was Bess, talking with eloquence and style.

Trudy stared in disbelief. "Are you talking to me?" she asked. 

"Yes, now please--no jokes and take me home."

"See, I told you," said the clown, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Okay, let's go!" Trudy said, tugging the rope as Bess followed. "Thanks, Mr. Clown," she said, nodding to the smiling fellow.

"Pleased to help," he replied. "Bye, Bessie!" He waved to the big animal.

As they started their journey, Trudy asked, "Bess, I suppose when we get back, you'll never talk again, huh? Especially if I tell everyone you spoke to me, you'll probably clam up and make me look like a fool."

"You got that right, sweetie!" the camel replied as a hint of a smile revealed her huge white teeth. "You got that right."

Copyright 2005 JO Janoski 

IN THE NEWS...

Hot Soup, Beethoven, Politics, and Roaches

When a Woman Wants Her Soup, She Wants Her Soup!

Women Brawl Over Microwaving Soup

Fascinating!

Beethoven Manuscript Discovery

Never Discuss Religion or Politics!

Note on Car Gets Man in Trouble

Roaches, Roaches, Everywhere!

Roaches Infest One Home, Spread to Others

Coffee is the Best Medicine...

October 13, 2005

...The Strange Happenings in a Coffee Shop

 

In Review: I had writer's block and hit the streets looking for inspiration.  Stumbling upon a coffee shop and being a lover of coffees, fine and rare as well as not so hot, I went through the doors to find a bunch of folks who could keep my muse giggling for a long time to come. Rose, the owner and chief waitress; Butch, her tough-skinned friend; Alfred, the nerd who recently went through an extreme make-over to morph into a handsome Romeo; Brenda, his up-to-now lady; and don't forget me, JO--the writer of this story. In recent episodes we fed the Health Inspector pancakes and let his lady Supervisor hang around the new and improved Alfred, which made her very happy, saving this filthy restaurant (yeah, it's pretty bad) from being shut down for sanitation reasons. There, that puts you up to date.

_______

Things settled in. The Supervisor lady came back every day to see Alfred, cuddling up next to him at the counter each morning, wrapping her body around him in curves you wouldn't think such a stiff spine could achieve. And the Inspector gained more and more weight as he gobbled up Rose's pancakes day in and day out, perched on his usual seat at the counter. I'd say we had the County Health Department completely neutralized thanks to our pancakes and sex appeal, I'm not certain in which order.

Speaking of sex appeal, I remembered how Alfred used to flirt with me back in the days when he was still a geek. Now, he flirted with the Supervisor, and I felt left out. I should make the point that I am happily married and simply missed his attention. One day, I pulled him aside before he could reach the Supervisor.

"Alfred, your extreme make-over is simply fabulous," I said.

He smiled back with one of those cat-ate-the canary grins. "Yeah, it gets me to first base fast with all the ladies," he said.

"You seem to be enjoying it."

"You bet I am." There was that smile again.

"Don't you love me anymore, Alfred?" Brenda had crept up beside us and warbled in her little voice. I wanted his attention, but I knew for Brenda, the need for his devotion was more profound than mine.

Alfred gave her a sidelong glance. "It isn't that I don't love you. It's just that things are rather...dull with you, Brenda."

"Dull! Well, I never." The tiny girl stomped off, heading for the kitchen. I followed.

"Brenda, honey. Take it easy. It's only, you know, Alfred! There are other fish in the sea, as they say."

Brenda shuddered at my words. "But I love him," she replied in a shaky whisper.

I studied her. The tiny woman was the epitome of neatness with a perky little blouse all pressed, slacks with a pleat properly set in each leg and well-shined shoes you could see your face in. After a moment's consideration I realized it was no wonder Alfred found her dull. 

"Brenda," I said. "If you love Alfred, then I'll help you get him back. Come on over to my place."

And so, Brenda and I got to work on making her anything but dull.

Later, at my place I attacked her hair first, which was well-combed, parted in the middle, and each side of straight brown hair held in place with an equally dull brown barrette. I ripped out the barrettes and swirled it around with my hands, teased it, then finger-combed and settled it down, producing a disheveled. sultry look. As a final touch, I sprayed hair spray on in a suffocating mist of cheap fragrance. Next,  rummaging through my cosmetics, I found a dark purplish lipstick and some light eye shadow along with a handful of other magic fixes for homely little Brenda. I applied a new face on her despite protests as she wiggled and squirmed. The resulting "look" could make a good living on Liberty Avenue, if the truth be told.

Then I found a form-fitting black dress we squeezed her into, not because it was too small, but because it was made like a tube--one size fits all and you simply had to wiggle into it like a caterpillar trying to writhe his way up in a cocoon.

"I can't breathe!" Brenda squeaked.

"You don't need to. Just look sexy."

"Are you nuts?"

I stared back at her. "Not me. I'm not nuts. Blame the designers of this stuff, not me."

When I produced a pair of black stiletto heels from my closet, a look of outrage passed over Brenda's face. "I'm not wearing those!"

"You have to. That dress will not go with your sneakers."

"Then maybe I won't wear the dress either."

I felt like screaming, but instead took her hand in mine and spoke in the softest voice I could manage. "Brenda, do you want to get Alfred back?"

"Yes," she replied with a tremor.

"Put the shoes on."

She obeyed, sitting down to push her feet into the tight shoes. Finally, she stood and announced, "I'm ready. I'm ready to go and win back Alfred, my Love."

"Let's go," I said, as I watched her wobbling back and forth in the stiletto's.  

To be Continued

Copyright 2005 JO Janoski

I HEARD THEIR CRIES

...A workshop assignment 

to tell of an experience I've had on a beach.

Huge grayish-white clouds fleeted across the metallic blue October sky. I was on Cape Code--Provincetown, Mass., to be exact, walking along the beach. Shortly before, I had stood spellbound before a memorial listing the names of the Pilgrims who first set foot in America on these beaches, before moving on to Plymouth. And now, I stood where they had, staring out to sea, posed as a lone figure perched between angry clouds and a desolate beach with a ferocious wind rushing past me. I watched the waves slam against the shore, mixing with the fearsome air current to make an angry concoction. This sea, it was a force to be reckoned with. Looking out, I spied turbulent gray water stretching straight out to the horizon. From some obscure distant place, the Pilgrims, the very same whose names I saw on the memorial, came sailing in from that horizon, searching for some sign of land. Finally, they would spy the shore I now stood on. With hearts pounding, they would rush from the boat to touch, one by one, dry sand after weeks in the utter oblivion of endless sea. On the shore, they would look around at its emptiness and feel lonely again...from one empty void to another. Which is how I felt, lonely, as I considered their story and pondered what forces could make land-loving people cast away all and sail a boat across miles and miles of desolate ocean to a no man's land as strange and lonely as the sea they had traveled on. I could feel their spirits on the beach aching to tell me while seeing what they saw and brushing against their souls. I heard their cries.

Copyright 2005 JO Janoski 

In the News

...That's gotta hurt!

New Operating Room Targets Brain Tumors

Quote: Surgeons use special instruments and computer mapping to find and

remove brain tumors, some as large as baseballs, through the nose and

nasal sinuses.

One word! OUCH!! A brain tumor coming through your nose! 

________

I'm back in my office after being away 

at an art show. Many thanks to 

Oddybobo

for this wonderful column 

on my book

Tea and Chocolates

IN THE NEWS...

OJ, Severed Heads, and Music

Appropriate, don't you think?

OJ Signing Autographs at a Horror Convention

Yikes!

Photos of  Their Severed Heads Used to Identify Bali Bombers

Wonder what they played for your operation?

Anesthesiologists Play Music in the OR

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(I'll be away from my blog until next week. I'm working our Pittsburgh Photo booth at an art show at Monroeville Mall, Wed. thru Sunday, second level, in front of Penney's. I'll have my books, too.)

IN THE NEWS...

India, Car Trunks, Colons, and Control Freaks

Hello! How can this be?

Hotline for Hurricane Rita Rang in India?

I'm certain I, for one, would not be okay! And why do that?

Woman Okay After Being Put in Trunk of Car

I'm also certain I'd never steal one of these!

BTW, how do you pronounce "colonoscope"?

Stolen Colonoscopes from Armstrong County Hospital

I don't think so, unless you can show me the money!

EU Wants Shared Control of the Internet