Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

*This post includes an excerpt from the short story "The Librarian" by HR Apostos.   Tinkletoes/John looks at Carp and grins. “Maybe the stuff in those girlie books you used to write isn’t such a bad thing.” The self-proclaimed mercenary puckers his lips. Francesca takes a step back. “No,” she says. “No?” “I will not kiss you. There is an active contract out on you.” “Don’t start anything that’s doomed to fail?” Writer Lady asks. Francesca nods. “Hmm.” Writer Lady nods her assent. She can respect that philosophy. Most of Francesca’s acquaintances will probably go under contract eventually, not making them good candidates for a long term relationship. Tinkletoes/John studies Francesca for a moment. He shakes his head. “I don’t believe you. You’re attracted to me.” “ I will not kiss you.” Tinkletoes/John looks at Francesca. “Do you mind?” She backs away further. Tinkletoes/John steps towards Writer Lady and the computer monitor. He begins reading. He

Tinkletoes holds up a hand and snaps his fingers, TP appears. The faerie calls forth a Bowie knife that floats into Tinkletoes’ waiting hand. “Permanent changes aren’t really necessary.” Carp says as he pushes Tinkletoes' knife wielding hand down. “Not for an informal dress rehearsal.” Francesca looks at Carp. She raises an eyebrow as she takes his statement into consideration. “I suppose not." She continues, "Having all of one’s fingers can be useful in combat.” Tinkletoes raises his knife, “The really good stories feel authentic.” “Tinkle boob is getting ready to do something stupid.” House calls out. “I don’t care what anyone says, I am not cleaning the mess up. I demand professionals.” Writer Lady turns away from the monitor and sees the tip of the knife pressed against the base of his right index finger. “ Is it this one?” He asks, looking at Francesca. “ No.” “ What about this one?” He asks placing it against the mid

“Yeah.” Tinkletoes responds. He looks at Carp. “So...what do I do?” He asks. “You’re looking to me for direction?” Carp asks feigning surprise. Tinkletoes looks at Carp and waits. “I’ve always wanted to have my own production.” He gushes. Carp turns to Writer Lady. “May I set the stage?” “You know that world as well as I do.” She smiles. “Go for it.” “In this story you are John Wick. A notorious and deeply feared assassin. A legend. You are known as The Bogey Man or Baba Yaga. John Wick is the baddest of the bad. He is the man that you send when you want to kill The Bogey Man.” Tinkletoes repeats, “Bogey Man. Bogey Men are bad news. How many guns do I get?” Carp looks at Writer Lady. “Based on my story line, as many as you can commandeer.” She responds. “Are there, grenades?” Tinkletoes asks. She raises a brow, “There might be.” “But not yet.” Carp says. He looks the self-proclaimed mercenary over in his close fitting mixed cammos and regul

A brief smile escapes Francesca’s deep red lips, “You have no idea.” Carp smiles back. Writer Lady coughs. He looks at the computer monitor then back to Francesca, “You have an interesting story for a ‘beautiful but deadly bad ass.’ What’s the problem?” “Well…” Writer Lady begins. “She doesn’t know where to put me.” “I would go with a dark world. Something with a noir feel to it.” “That’s what I’ve been trying to do. My noir falls a little flat.” Francesca looks at Carp. “She keeps rejecting her own dark world because she feels that I belong in John Wick’s.” Carp looks at Writer Lady. She nods, her head still facing the monitor. “Great. Reach out to some people, ask them to call other people and see what the big boys say.” “There’s a problem. It’s kind of a big one.” Writer Lady says. She points to an open file folder on the table in front of her. Carp studies Writer Lady’s notes. “That’s her…” “...last name.” Writer Lady finishes t

  This post is dedicated to my mother for suggesting a very unexpected place for a character that I had no idea what to do with. Thank you.    Writer Lady sits in the Big Writing Chair at her desk in High Command and reads the scene she is currently working on. Francesca knew that something was different as she walked through The Archives' darkened Lower Stacks. She could feel the heat of the intruder’s presence well before she saw his/her face. She noticed it as she passed one of the darker aisles. Burnt out bulbs above a row of records that were rarely accessed. When a bulb burned out in The Lower Stacks maintenance was never in much of a hurry to replace them. He made no movement but she could see that something was obstructing her view of a section of Post WWII missions. He was...Francesca hesitated...taking a whiff of the air in front of the darkened aisle. Yes it was definitely a ‘he.’ A professional. Obviously. Only a professional would know about this place.

  Shadows crawl. Down walls and windows. Over ceiling and floor. Across shutters, replacing all color in the room. Enveloping all in complete darkness. Every living being stops waiting for the lights to come back on. For their colorful world to return. Several seconds pass as fog rolls in along the floor. A wolf howls in the distance. A much louder howl quickly follows. “Furnatche no!” is heard right before the baby dragon runs through the room, jumping on to the couch. He holds his position and peers over the back, sniffing the air for evidence of another animal’s presence. Furnatche howls a second time and waits quietly for a response. Writer Lady slowly navigates the darkened room stopping next to the baby dragon.“Furnatche, the couch is a no no. Get down.” She instructs. There’s a rustling noise, the thumping of Furnatche’s tail against the floor is the only indication that he has cooperated. “Thank you Furnatche. Good listening.” “Well?” House asks. “Wel

I continued to walk out the door. Unfortunately for me Betterman followed. “Are you a writer? Are you trying to build a following?” He asked matching my pace annoyingly well. “What gave you the idea to bring your stories directly to children?” “No. No and No.” I answered as I stopped walking. It was clear that Betterman had latched on to me. The challenge was deciding which technique I was going to use to inspire a quick detachment on his part. Rudeness had always worked fairly efficiently. No. He seemed to be a nice kid. Rudeness of my caliber might hurt his feelings. I mentally shook my head. For the first time in years I had spent the last few months encountering people that seemed to have feelings. This one was an adult to boot. Life can take some funny turns. “I know. I look really young. It’s true that I haven’t been at the paper for very long. I am just getting started. Could you do me a favor and give me a break?” He asked. And with those words he had me. Wha

“I looked up at the sky, Prince Valiant and I watched as a falling star crossed overhead and disappeared into the distance. We fell asleep nestled in the trees at the edge of the enchanted forest and woke with dawn’s first light.” I looked at my audience. The girls were sitting still, listening closely. The boys were fidgeting. I watched as one removed a wad of gum from his mouth and stuck it to the underside of a nearby shelf. I moved my gaze before his eyes turned to the back of the room and found mine. “What do you think happened next?” I asked. “Prince Valiant says a bunch of stupid stuff, gets down on one knee and asks her to be his princess or something.” One boy responded looking at the carpeted floor. “Yeah, that stupid girl stuff.” Another one added. I smiled at them. “You’re forgetting, Prince Valiant is not a man.” With that one sentence the fidgeting stopped and the room fell silent. “I told you yesterday, Prince Valiant is a unicorn.” “He’s not a p

“Oh my goodness. That is most exciting.” Diomedes exclaims. The dragon looks around the room at the others and smiles. Ray and Carp look up from their e-readers. “Where are you?” Carp asks. “In the woods. Everyone is how do you humans say it? Everyone is outfitted for confrontation?” “Everyone is packing?” Carp suggests. “Locked and loaded.” Tinkletoes answers absentmindedly. He presses the button on his controller to continue his video game. (Sorry, virtual training exercise.) “Oh my goodness.” Diomedes calls out. He thumps his tail in amusement, setting Aunt Purdy’s rocking chair in motion lightly tapping the wall. “It is most humorous how you humans do battle.” “Duuude. No spoilers.” Ray says. An explosion comes from the television signaling that Tinkletoes’ character has died. The self-proclaimed mercenary growls under his breath and starts a new game. “No way.” Ray says. Carp looks up from his reader. “Way.” “Seriously?” “Seriously.” Carp repeats. Tinkletoes goes up