C. J.’s Comments (group member since Mar 29, 2012)

C. J.’s comments from the Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! group.

Contests will continue until one more posting. If it is on here ir in poetry, guarantee that there will be a voting (though I wish it was two entries on both contests, if not, I will exclude one when voting!).

Thank you Garrison for keeping the WSS afloat!

Contest will continue until one more posting. Happy writing!

I knew someone that used to be on Deviant Art. Didn't know things got bad there now.

Hey Garrison. I saw you started to chat on here. I can chat with you! And there's "cookies and tea" too, lol.

Garrison wrote: "Anyone hungry for a Royale with Cheese?

"

I hear that they drown their fries in some crazy stuff like mayo! ;)

Also important. The contests, the polls, are still up! Vote now (or later but don't make it too late!).

Just wanted to say (alright more like beg) please enjoy this group. Please interact, vote, add anything to help brighten the contests up with your amazing brains! Or maybe it's the what's that called that gets you writing again? I forget what it's called. It sounds magical!

You have until the 7th to post a story, and from the 8th to the 13th we will vote for which one we thought was best!

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group.

Note: Only one submission per member is allowed.

Your story should be between 250 and 3,500 words long.

Remember that a short story is not merely a scene. It needs to have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

This week’s topic is: Small Surprise

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow.

Most of all have fun!

You have until the 7th to post a poem, and from the 8th to the 13th we will vote for which one we thought was best!

Please post directly into the topic and do not use a link. Please don’t use a poem previously used in this group. Note: Only one submission per person is allowed.

Your poem can be of any length, structure, or style.

This week’s topic is: Small Surprise

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a poem about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow. Note: It can be a loose interpretation for example.

Most of all have fun!

Garrison wrote: ""Crazy and lovable" is pretty much how I would describe everyone who's ever passed through this group. I joined this group in 2013 and the more I participated, the better I got at my craft. That's ..."

Same here with improvements in writing. Great words to share, Garrison. Thank you!

Hello everyone.

I've been in this group for many happy years and I am glad to say I hope for many more so.

It has just been life getting in the way as I go through it like a rollercoaster. It's tough but it's worth it just to get through the highs and lows!

But there might be a huge setback.

Next month I might not be able to mod. At all.

I am not being dramatic but I am having a lot of problems with my current PC (a very OLD PC now as the years have gone by, I might add!).

But hopefully in time the new one might be coming soon.

Also I have news that I can put up the new contests! Just wait! It'll be there. Oh and just to let you know, there will be some leeway as I will now re-introduce this group's announcement of being back. Yeah, I know.... again!

Thank you for understanding,

C. J., a crazy but hopefully lovable mod lol.

I finished one book so far this year if I remember right. Hopefully that number is going up soon. Reading has been getting worse for me every year it seems.

I also posted a story. Hope you and everyone else checks it out!

It's okay. Same here. After another breakdown I think I am getting pretty level-headed though it took a while. Another person in my life passed away and I am finally mentally dealing with a very close loss, small but significant success for grief!

Great shots, Garrison!

So, I'm back. I hope to share some stuff soon in a group message in the coming days!

Good art, Garrison.

Review my story. Open to critique!

(Part 3) Most Wonderful...

Note: This is PG-13 for suggestive Themes and Language

John nearly started crying.

A door knocked. Then he heard Harry let himself in. He eventually spotted him in the kitchen.

“What's that smell? Oh… what the--- are you okay, John?”
“Yeah…”
“What's wrong?”
“Was trying to get a drink. I think I'm bleeding.”
“Oh. Whoa, yes you are! Where's the first aid kit?”
“In the corner. This ain't my first rodeo.”

He was wistful enough that soon he cleared the glass from his sliced hand.

“You've got no wounds on your other hand. How did the glass shatter?”
“I think it fell past my hands. It's all in the sink.”

He bandaged up John.

“Did you get all the decorations up? It looks really complete.”
“No, I can't find the---”
“I love it.”
“--mistletoe.”

There was an unsure pause. Then John's friend Harry was curious.

“Um, what..?”

John smirked woozy probably from some blood loss.

“The mistletoe, Joe. I mean Harry, haha. I'd love to have ladies come by and give em two big smooches. Maybe Eunice and Brielle can come by, hehe. That would make my Christmas, haha!”

Harry flipped.

“That's not funny. And I thought you stopped drinking!”
“I'm not drunk.”
“Oh yeah, stinky? Explain that smell!”
“It's not alcohol. I'm telling you!”

Harry went over to the door and John tried to stop him.

Harry gave a look he never wanted to see again. Was it pure rage?

John slowly unlocked the door.

As Harry started to head outside, he turned seeming to shout so the neighbors could hear.

“Oh and you know how you say you never want to be like your father? You just said you wanted to sleep with two women. In committed relationships! That's no different than your dad and you know it, you bastard!”

As he walked off Harry continued shouting. “Brielle is like a sister. You are a horrible--- ugh! Aaaah!”

John had a feeling he should just go in, close the door and walk away from the fight.

But he decided on the opposite.

“Oh yeah? Tell the ‘coming’ guests that they can all fuck off!”

He slammed the door.

It was 6:58. He got one critical call from Harry.

“You heard what I said.”
“Oh really. Okay then.”
“What now? What is it?”

There was the sound of what was a small crowd. Barely over the fading wallpaper on his cell he then heard Harry's grudge.

“Okay folks. You heard him. The Christmas party is cancelled.”

The phone died.

Then John saw flames.

“That's not what I said! Aaaaah..!”

He threw the phone so hard it cracked against a wall, nearly splitting in half. Now John had no one.

Seemingly nothing. It was 7:17 as John sat on a random table. Barely propped up as “It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” played on his record player in the corner. He kept a sticker bow on his forehead, looking plainly at nothing, draped in some extra decorations again.

For some reason he swore he could hear a car honking outside. After a while, there was shuffling by the door.

Then a knock. One single, powerful knock.

Familiar fear swept across his face. He cowered as he pulled the door open.

He was almost the same except taller and the tiniest hint of skinnier. He still somehow had that tough exterior of a visage. Eyes dead forward, strong prouder forehead, and never smiling and downward torn mouth.

There in front of him was the giant and John no longer felt like Andre.

Here was the biggest bully Mikey standing at his door wanting to go in to the party.

“You have food? I'm starving.”

John stared as the bulk of a man made his way into the house.

He ripped off his decorations and then the guy spoke again.

His demanding tone seemed unwavering: “I want a lot of food. I want a lot of ih...!”

John went into the kitchen. Ready to say his thoughts aloud, somehow his mom's advice flooded his brain in a singsong tone.

Mom: Don't grum-ble

It calmed him for a moment. That is until he was tempted to stab and destroy some buttered toast with a knife, then one of mom's “momisms” came to him again.

Mom: Use kindness as a weapon. You'd be surprised how much people change after that!

He treated me so bad, Mom. I'd like to use my shoe as a weapon; I'd use it to kick that football head off from between his shoulders!

He put the knife down.

“Kindness. Kindness. Kindness…”

He then began the hors d'oeuvres. “Come on big boy. You want a plate, or should I lay you onto the floor and just shovel it all in?”

Mikey tried nearly everything. He ate half the pineapple, the appetizers, and thirty goldfish.

The crackers.

John then delicately sliced the glowing ham, plated two kinds of stuffing, and gave a generous portion of homemade turkey and chicken gravy.

Mikey ate every bite. It must have been good too, because he seemed to moan at the thought of it again, and then licked his fingers.

“You cook.”
“Yeah. Sometimes it feels like it's all I can do.”

Without hesitation, Mikey changed the subject.
“That garland must be cheap. Not real.”
“That's ‘cause it was only 99 cents. Anyway, do you remember me?”

He looked me up and down then back at probably nothing. “I need to remember. Was starved.”
“What will help you remember?”
“Time!”

John stepped back.
Jeez! What good is kindness when the guy is an a hole?

“Elememtary.”
“Right. Partial credit?”
“You were kid with big mouth.”

John closed it. He continued.
“Every time I had bad day, you saw challenge nhn me.”

“Had worst day. Grandmuh got sick. You called me Mister Tough Guy. Got mad. Grades went down. Repeat grade that next year.”
“What happened after that?”
“Summer. School. Then had worst year.”

“Oh man….”

I was the asshole. What was I doing torturing this kid those years ago??

He felt tension. It was driving John crazy so he burst out whatever he could to stop the intensity.

“What happened?”
“Mom died.”
Then he sniffled.

“Oh I am… so sorry. I feel bad, bud.”
“Was years ago. Still miss her though.”

“I uh… can't believe I am saying this. Years ago that happened because I thought you were treating me like crap.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

John burst into tears.

“No I don't deserve that. I should apologize to you a thousand times!”
“You get rage?”
“Yeah.”
“Cannot control?”
“Yep.”
“You should go to my anger management. It does good. Every day feel better. Look at life different now.”

John was hugging the big guy not even thinking of the irony of it all.

“Yes. I'll go with you.”

The next day John called his mom and thanked her. He also told her to give his dad a second chance since he heard he was never with another woman since the divorce.

She gave a hearty no. That was fine. For now.

Then he called Harry knowing he loved leftovers, the weirdo.

The End

(Part 2) Most Wonderful...

After a while he felt bad. Good, bad, or whatever, the gift was from his mom's and meant a lot to her. In the big bin around and in the basement still.

He'd have time to get it later, John supposed.

He put up begrudgingly the message “HAPPY HOLIDAYS” in front of the faux fireplace.

One thing John didn't understand was how he started to love Thanksgiving and Christmas like he had joy. Yet his mother showed “joy” year round. And seemingly always.

If there was something she had in her life it was a lot of hootspa or something of that nature!

Anyway John stopped acting like his life was some kind of Hallmark channel special film, and grabbed the other ornaments.

He found the stars but where were the balls?

“Where are the-- the--- the ball things?”

He went outside in the cold. Still moving in he had a ton of stuff in his garage slash basement area, some of it blocked the only door to get to it while inside.

He whipped around and went right for where he abandoned it. The trash bin was gone.

It was gone?

He called his friend Harry.

“What's up?”
“Do you have my decorations?”
“What? No.”
“Did you have them?”
“I said no.”

He paused. Now he was getting a headache. His mind kind of cleared as an idea popped in. He snapped his fingers.

“When did you see them last?”
“Well they were in some sort of bin when I stopped by. I wheeled them to the front of the house for the garbage man. He should be there soon. Wow it's already 1 pm? Time flies.”

Beep. Hang up.

The neighbors were nearly startled by a loud crash. Then John saw a huge toolbox blocking the door and nearly lifted it.

A quick thought. “Go around again or blow out a hernia while pulling this damn thing..?”

He whipped around horrified to find a trash truck hauling one of his bins.

“No. Wait!”

When the guy finally pulled out his earbuds John hoped beyond belief and opened the last can. The first one was already being poured into the large back end of the rumbling machine.

Inside of the three cans, the one with the innards furthest from death and destruction were ornaments and the garland.

He sighed relief.

“Thank you!”

Then pulled the last can to his front door.

He ignored the scoff and his annoyance. “The holidays really bring out the crazies…”

He went through everything, ignoring the garland again.

He forgot about the multiple drapes of yellow, white, and red.

He put those around himself doing an impression of himself in elementary school, “I am André the Giant… Christmas Tree!”

He was so glad nobody saw that. (You wouldn't say anything, would you? You better not)!

So anyway John had memories, blah blah blah, and he kept wondering about his mom.

“She talked about no grumbling, no getting revenge, and always be loving no matter what.”

Then a tear went down his eyes.”My mom was always there for me, ready to hear from me, always. Why didn't I ever tell her of the hell I was going through?”

He went back and put the old garland into a box.

It was suddenly nearly 3:15. About four hours away from the suggested “party” time.

He called Harry again.

“Oh good. Hey John.”
“Still no RSVP's?”
“No. At least two.”
“What? Why didn't you tell m--?”
“I just got a response. The notification popped up as you called.”
A pause.
“Okay…?”
“There's a possibility there are two people going.”
“Wow. Great.”
“In a couple of minutes I can call to fully confir--”
“I'll call.”
“Wait. Just… wait a second!”

Beep.

Harry called back.

“Look, man, you are making me mad now. We are friends, right? I won't do you wrong, right? I'm your friend and you hired me as your coordinator. I want to do my best so get your bang for your buck, so… about this job. Let me do it!”

The comment stung John like a rubber band. He hadn't realized how he seemed to Harry, a friend of his.

The echo of his tone went through the house and for once John had nothing to say.

“I'll come by in an hour. Any concerns you have I will quell, I hope, at the best of my ability.”

Wow. Harry sounded off. John thought as he stayed on the floor. He checked to see if he had peed himself. Nope. Dry.

He woke up still on the hardwood floor. As soon as he rose he panicked.

He called Harry again. It was now 4:17.

“Hey.”
“Who responded to the party?”
“Okay it was Jake and Gretchen Horowitz.”
“Jake and Gretty? They got married?”
“Yeah… I guess so. The other o--”
“I haven't seen Jake since the AA meeting two years ago!”

John couldn't help but smile.

“I'll call the-”
Harry disagreed by clearing his throat.
“I'll. Uh. I'll let you get at this one.”
“Time is critical. I need to know if people are definitely coming or they are just thinking about it. Don't call them at this time. Time is critical but you also don't know the details.”
“Hmm. Lemme guess. Was this on social media? I think I get it.”
“Thank you, John. You know I think hour by hour you are growing as a better person. Any more and you'll be like a giant.”

Harry gave a gentle laugh he hadn't heard before from him. Then they both hung up.

He put up strings then swept up the floor. John then cleaned and shoveled the driveway. Before he knew it, it was 5:45 or past. His watch died. He went home to take it off and went to take a shower.

It was 6:00.

He strung up the early Christmas cards from friends and family. He got one from his dad. John nearly torched it and “sent it to the fiery furnace” called his stove but felt maybe he could hold onto it for just one day.

His mom wasn't able to come. He asked about Dad. Nope. Figured.

He kept putting up cards. Two names caught his eye.

Eunice. And Brielle. Two of his former loves. Oh how he missed them. Now, John tuned in his heart, they each had a ‘beau’ of their own.

He so badly wanted to drink. This thought never came so intense before. What a wonderful time of the year too to drown in his sorrows. Probably fall down the stairs Porky Pigging it screaming at whatever sports game that would be too loud.

He put out another tray of appetizers and looked to see if they needed anything extra. A bit of mint. Some basil? Now they were better.

Harry called.

“Sorry I tried to get to you sooner. I am sorry but there were cancellations and confirmations. I'll explain it all soon. Stay tuned.”

“Okay. Friend.”

He ran over to reward himself. Time for a non-drink.

Without thinking, he grabbed a bottle of Goya Refresco, a drink he never had before, by the bottle cap and twisted in a quick motion.

Extreme pain shot to his fingers.

“Aah!”

He threw the glass into the air, then it shattered around his already bleeding hands. He squealed as he stood at the sink.

He was too far from the phone. Plus it actually made a warning sound that it was running out of battery.

Where even is the charger?

A strong familiar scent then invaded his nose as it slipped down the sink.

“Why do I smell alcohol? Why do I smell alcohol???”