Sunday, June 8, 2014

Why Yes, I Am A Little Strange...Thank You For Noticing

I guess that's why I create some strange characters, like Samuel Clemens in "Operation Onion" from Flashes of Fiction Volume 1. He body emits different odors depending on his mood, and well, it make his life a bit difficult. Here's what one reader had to say:

OPERATION ONION: HYSTERICAL!!! (And I just raised it from 3 to 5 stars!) Seriously: I was laughing so hard I finally gave up. Went into the other room and read it aloud to my husband. This one alone would have been enough, but so far I have liked them all!

Samuel Clemens was born with a problem. Because of that problem his Mom gave him the nickname Stinker. Seems that even at birth he could not hide his feelings: he smelled differently depending upon his mood. Made for some unbelievably funny stories (for the reader), and a very difficult life for Samuel. Can you just imagine trying to get through school or find a job with such a problem?

The ending to this story was great! Would not have thought of that in a million years, but it was the perfect solution! Way to go Stinker! Glad it finally worked out for you!

In Flashes of Fiction Volume 2 you meet Charles. When he was born, he laughed. But...what a minute. Aren't newborn babies supposed to cry? Yes, but Charles is not your ordinary baby, he laughs at a full diaper and bawls while playing peekaboo. Doctors can't figure it out, but Charles finally gets a few answers when he sets to find his father. 

                               Laugh Like  a Baby

My life is kind of like a week old banana. It has some bruised areas, but it’s still good. As I reflect upon the soft, bruised areas of my past, I laugh hysterically. But, I will try to control my emotions as I fill you in.
I was unusual from the day of my birth. The doctor slapped my wrinkly bottom the day I was born, but I didn’t cry; I laughed. Everyone in the room was stunned, newborns can’t laugh. So, with Momma’s permission, I went through all sorts of tests.
The results? All doctors found me to be perfectly healthy. The doctors decided I was a baby with an abnormal cry, and I would grow out of it as my tiny lungs matured.
Momma  took  me  home  and  soon  discovered  the  doctors  were wrong. I laughed at a full diaper and bawled while playing peek-a-boo.
Every doctor that examined me as a child was baffled. “It is something that will straighten itself out as he heads into adulthood,” the doctors told us.
Momma finally gave up on the doctors and accepted me “as is.” She gave birth to me in her late forties. I was probably the first and last child she’d ever have, so she loved me even though I was a freak.
Momma learned to deal with my abnormality, laughing along with me as I sobbed watching cartoons, and kissing my bumps and bruises as I chuckled.
We had a great life, until I started school. I got in trouble every day through no fault of my own. It was after disrupting the class with my laughter while watching the end of Old Yeller that Mrs. Levy ordered me to see the principal, Mr. Pickett.
“Maybe I should speak with your father.” Mr. Pickett said.
It was at that moment I realized, I don’t have a father. “It’s just me and Momma,” I told Mister Pickett.
 “Sorry son, I’ll give your mother a call.”
He called Momma, and she hurried down to the school. They sat in that office with the door closed for an hour before calling me in to join them. Momma took my hands. Her hands were always soothing and warm. She only held them firmly when her news was something upsetting. “Charles, I told Mr. Pickett about your unusual condition, and we’ve decided to put you in a special class. How does that sound?”
I nodded in agreement, but all I could think about was my father. Who was he? Was he like me? Was he put in the special class, too? I wanted to ask Momma, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. What if he had been mean to her or run out on her?
Mr. Pickett told me to go back to my classroom and gather my things from my desk.
I shuffled into the classroom, and Mrs. Levy looked up at me.
“I’m going to a special class on Monday.” I snickered as I cleared out my desk.
Everyone sat quietly as I gathered my things.
“See ya around,” one boy yelled.
“Bye, Charles.” Mrs. Levy smiled. She was probably glad to see me go.
 I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out to the car. I didn’t say a word during the drive home. When I walked through the door, I went straight to my room.
I was quiet until dinner. We sat at the table eating, and I had to ask. “Where’s my father?”
Momma almost choked on her soda. “Charles, I–”
“Please, Momma, tell me. I can take it, whatever the story.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, he was a fireman. We were engaged, but he was killed saving a family from a burning home.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I didn’t  want  to  upset  you,  and  I thought  when  you  were  old enough you’d ask. You did and now you know.”

I believed her, or at least I pretended I did. My childhood years were lonely. I didn’t care for my new class. I had a few friends, but they only liked me because they could tell me the most horrible, gruesome stories and I laughed every time.
You can find them both @

Happy Reading!

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