A Talented Group

There is no question that we have some talented writers and readers on this blog! The entries we received from the Fun and Games contest over the weekend clearly show that. Here are a few of the entries we received:

My girlfriend and I were having a chat. Twinkle, twinkle little star, I want to head on over to the Irish bar, I thought to myself. "Don't tempt me anymore", I told my friend Sandy. I feel so much stress lately. I long for the days when I was as placid as a marshmallow. There is too much to be done.

The holidays are coming and I am making homemade crispy noodles today. We are having Chinese for Thanksgiving. It is my favorite food next to chocolate. I always have seconds and then feel like an Orca whale when eating. I teeter totter on throwing up when I'm done. I do love it though. I will need to join the 5K Flying fun, Timed Run in town to lose some of the weight I will gain.

There are Summer days in the South, when the only way to avoid baking in the sun like crispy noodles, is to stay inside or in the water. Lilly and I had opted for the latter. We had been alternating between Marco Polo and making Orca sounds, when we heard moving trucks next door. Lilly jumped out of the pool with me close behind, as we ran past the teeter totter to look over the fence.

That was when I saw him. He was tall and lean, with eyes like melted chocolate. His tawny hair caressed his shoulders with disheveled waves. My heart felt as if it had been on a flying fun, timed run. He was better than homemade ice cream. He was everything my twelve year old heart wanted, but had no idea what to do with.

I suddenly realized that Lilly had been talking, but I had not heard a word. I was a little preoccupied, or mentally stunted, whatever.

"Emma Beth, I'm starting to think that you like that boy." Lilly cooed.

"Why would you go and say something stupid like that?" I retorted.

"Well, your mouth has been hanging open for the last five minutes. Either you like the boy or you are doing an impression of a large mouth bass."

"Lilly May Prescott, don't tempt me to tell Nick Mabry that you want to kiss him!" I fumed back.

"Oh, now that's mature Emma. Let's go!"

Lilly grabbed my hand, jerking my soaking wet self through the gate. I know that I look like a drowned rat. Lilly looks gorgeous. If she was not my best friend, I would totally hate her on principle. She continued towards the moving trucks, with me dragging behind as placid as a marshmallow.

There was a woman moving boxes into the house, a little girl doing a loud rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and him. The boy. He looked up, and our eyes met. This must be it. I was in love, or possibly dying. Either way, I feel as if I might be sick. I turned and ran fast to my house. I think I have reached a new level of spazdom. On the upside, I did not toss up my Oreos. That has to count for something. I never knew that love could make me act like Napoleon Dynamite receiving electric shock therapy. No wonder my parents are so weird. Love is the culprit, not stress or being old. Who knew?

It's going to be okay. I know in my heart that I will see him again. Okay, so we live next door to each other, the chances are good. The next time, I will be mature. I can do mature. I'm almost thirteen, that's practically an adult. This Summer I, Emma Beth Landry vow that the boy next door will notice me.

Instigator had convinced the Playfriends to make this excursion to Orca Island for multiple reasons. All outward appearances indicated that Playground Monitor was always placid as a marshmallow. In reality, the stress had her searching for chocolate. The playfriends set about unpacking their picnic lunch. Counselor Shelley was begging, “Don’t tempt me,” as she removed the first dish from the picnic hamper. It contained the homemade lasagne that Angel had prepared. It was at this precise moment that Problem Child made her flying fun, timed run past the two women on her way to her favorite teeter totter. The two women kept a tight hold on the pan, unwilling to have their lasagne end up on the ground. It would be an absolute waste to have the tender, melt-in-your-mouth lasagne end up as crispy noodles as a result of landing in the gravel of the picnic area. Success! They were able to save the dish. The rest of the picnic meal went off without a hitch. As darkness began its descent, Smarty Pants assembled her telescope. The other Playfriends gathered around and each took a turn looking through the scope at the twinkle, twinkle of the stars as they began to appear. The day had refreshed the Playfriends. They were once again ready to return to the Playground and bask in the attention of their loyal blog readers.

Beth-Anne McDowell spent most of her days as placid as a marshmallow, but the year her husband invited both sides of the family to join them for Thanksgiving dinner, she went from placid to complete stress in less time than it takes to pop a balloon.

Beth-Anne was the epitome of social grace, having been raised in a household with a mother who was president of the Mt. Pleasant Rose Society and the DAR as well as vice-president of her Sunday School class and recording secretary for the Shady Acres Homemakers Club. But even in the best of families, crazy relatives lurk like winos around a liquor store. And Beth-Anne’s family had their share of crazy relatives who seemed hell-bent on demolishing her best-laid holiday plans with their own ideas.

First there was her mother-in-law who insisted on bringing her “famous” homemade chocolate pie with the crispy noodle topping. Even the kids wouldn’t eat her concoction. And when Uncle Louie arrived and headed to the backyard to play with the children, they should have seen disaster in the making. The man resembled an orca dressed in dark blue polyester and when he offered to let the triplets ride on one end of the teeter totter with him on the other, the resulting sound of cracking wood could be heard three streets away. Nothing consoled Zoe, Zara and Zelda over their shattered playground equipment, not even their grandma’s offer of a slice of her pie.

But the final blow came when her father-in-law, who had gone on a health kick after a heart attack scare the previous April, informed everyone he’d signed them all up to run in the family division of the 8th annual “Twinkle Twinkle Flying Fun Timed Run” 5K road race, which was held at 7:00 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning.

“I’ll put up with your mother’s pie, Franklin,” Beth-Anne told her husband, “and the broken teeter totter can be replaced. But I will not get up at the crack of dawn, put on a t-shirt that has ‘I'm the fast girl your mother warned you about’ across the back and jog through the streets of Mt. Pleasant.”

“Aww, Beth-Anne,” Franklin whined. “Dad got that shirt just for you. And he’s just trying to get the family involved in an activity together. Can’t you just humor him this once?”

“Don’t tempt me, Franklin,” Beth-Anne warned with a look that could have blistered an iron skillet. “I’d commit murder over far less than this.”


Thank you everyone for entering. And congratulations to Karen for being our winner! Please email me at instigator@writingplayground.com

I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving!

Instigator