Wooo Hooo Witchy Women!

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting a betweenable 140 characters or even fewer! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

BEING THAT our favourite October holiday is still

within reach,

(because, hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna be shoveling candy into my head probably until the end of next week --and if you happen to be reading this on Sunday, it actually is Allhallows Eve, right this very second, so there you go!), hold wide-open your Halloween goodies sacks, ‘cause I’m treating readers to a twofer!

THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and MY TWO,
COUNT ‘EM,
TWO STORIES:

Armed with a swing-ready broom, Hazel scooped up her treed cat, defiantly saying, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” –113 characters

Dot and her “Spot” strike the pose,
setting the stage for the next 140 or less:

“...and your little dog, too!” cackled Hazel, proudly impersonating her Auntie Elvira. “Huh? What do you mean ‘This isn’t a Toto'?!” –134 characters

Miss Elvira Gulch

What?
You were expecting someone more
Mistress of the Dark-y?!

SIX WORDS:

Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow!

Gotta fly!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Image Credits:
Thing and Unk Fester: www.fanpop.com/
Elvira: ComicBookMovie.com/

Wolfman Jack (Handey)

“IT’S SAD that a family can be torn apart by something as simple as a pack of wild dogs.” –Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

SO, THERE I AM in the library, where I almost bypass a display of spooky-type books, but then I don’t, because a

wolfman

made mostly out of spent pantyhose and wearing an open-to-the-werewolf-navel, lumberjack-print shirt (Some of these beasts are loggers by day, I’m guessing.) stops me dead in my tracks. Not so much because he frightens me (<– Hardly, as you’ve probably gathered.), but because the strong aroma of Fritos has taken over the air and, man, could I ever go for a snack!

WELL, SCRATCH THAT, since the “bouquet” that an incredibly hungry me purposely, then regrettably, deep-breathes in isn’t anything munchable, but instead that of not-laundered-before-turning-into-a-craft-project pantyhose!!! (Yeah, I agree with you wholeheartedly: EW!)

EVEN SO, if it hadn’t been for the “Good God! Why couldn’t it have just been corn chips?!” smell, I would have never stumbled upon that copy of Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells: The Ultimate Reference Book for the Magical Arts by Judika Illes, and never ended up being the only person to have ever checked it out . (The library added it to their collection six years ago. It was wearing cobwebs. The book, not the library.) But now I’m thinking: there’s a very good reason for that.

AFTER LUGGING the big, witchy volume into the privacy of my own home (<–FYI: Would you believe it? 5,000 spells in print weigh about five to six pounds! Also, I didn’t want my neighbors to get any wrong ideas.), I randomly cracked it open, landing me in a section titled “Werewolf Spells.” Its introduction--basically a reminder to readers and wolfman wannabes alike, that werewolves are not the inevitably tortured souls depicted on TV or in movies, but are in control, mislabeled sorts who are “in perfect harmony with the Moon Planet of Magic.” (Planet?!?)--was excitedly (<--as in–> "I think the author may have been salivating when she wrote this particular stuff") followed by the NeedToKnows in order to get the show on the road. Here are a few excerpts:

Basic Werewolf Transformation Spell
This spell will only work if you love the Moon and wolves. Stand outside so that you’re bathed in the light of the Full Moon. Some might suggest you undress completely*... Carefully choosing your adornment–a crescent pendant, a wolf’s tooth, etc.– may assist you in the transformation. Gaze at the Moon and howl*.

Diana Altar
1. Create an altar to Diana (Italian deity): decorate it with images of the Moon, the forest and her favorite animals: hounds, wolves, and deer.
2. Place a dish of water or a mirror onto the altar to represent Diana’s sacred spring, and position it so that it reflects the Moonlight.
4. If you can, disrobe*. (Apparently, Diana won't be bailing you out of jail, if that's where getting nakey takes you.)
5. Gaze at the altar and howl*.

Magic Circle Werewolf Transformation Spell
1. Get undressed* under the Full Moon.
2. Concentrate on your goal. With this fixed in your mind, howl* and urinate (That’s right, PEE!) while revolving in a circle. This allegedly activates the transformation.
3. Leave your clothes in the circle. When you wish to transform back, return to your clothing, urinate (That's right, PEE!) while revolving in the opposite direction, get dressed and go home.

Werewolf Full Moon Ointment Spell
Go to the woods during a Full Moon....blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah... circle...caldron...blah, blah...get undressed*. Blah, blah...blah, werewolf-transformation ingredients...blah, blah, blah. Smear the body with blah, blah, blah. Sleep outside for the rest of the night. You will either be transformed into a werewolf, or be eaten by one.

(*Obviously a theme rising like a full moon???)

ARE YOU thinking what I’m thinking?

That

(Close enough.)
Dr. Ruth Westheimer

is alive and well and writing under a pseudonym?! Yeah. Maybe this wasn’t meant to be a spellbook at all. Maybe it’s a “bedroom manual,” if you get my gist. *takes time out to double-back and leaf through* Yep. Skimming other “insinuation”-filled chapters definitely cements my brilliant deduction. And this Westheimer Factoid affirms yet another, because did you know that Dr. Ruth is a trained sniper? I kid you not. (Read about her HERE.) She is quoted to say: "For some strange reason I can put five bullets into that red thing in the middle of the target." The clincher: she nevah evah uses silver bullets. <--Which supports my other notion: Westheimer’s got a “thing” for werewolves.

. . . . . . .

WELCOME to the
SparkleFarkle Halloween edition of

To Tell the Truth

WILL THE

real Justin Bieber

please stand up?

SIX WORDS:
Now that’s what I call scary!

Happy Halloween,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

RIP, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Image Credits:
Wolfman Jack: ArtistDirect.com
Smell of spent pantyhose in a bag: Photographer Lara Robby/Studio D
To Tell the Truth: iOffer.com

"Dinner" Party

The McRib: the legendary bone-free (?!), mystery-meated McDonald’s “delicacy,” resurrected just in time (A November 2nd return is slated.) for Halloween week. Trick or treat? You be the judge.

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting a betweenable 140 characters, or even fewer! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

COULD I interest you in a smitch of gruesome to herald in a dear-to-my-heart October 31st holiday? Come on, you know you want it!

THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and MY STORY:

Jim always enjoyed a brewski with his ribs, especially when they were George's. "Donner, party of *hic* 8...er...7!" he later drunkenly quipped. –144 characters

THREE WORDS:
What’s for supper?!

Merely ribbing,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and

the Donner-Reed Party (EW!).

WILL SOMEBODY please tell me: what in the world were MGM execs thinking when they renamed Donna Belle Mullenger?! Too close for comfort, if you ask me.

IMAGE CREDIT: McRib originally downloaded at Maxim.com.

Just Like a Bee Be

"DON'T EVER get your speedometer confused with your clock, like I did once, because the faster you go, the later you think you are." --Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

WHO WAS IT that said, “I’m so far behind, I think I’m first!”? *scans readers for a raised hand* Okay, then I’m claiming it. Yep, I’m in over my ears today. Or should that be “up to my ears”? Doesn’t matter, because who has time to even Google?! Busy, busy, busy day ahead. You could say “I’m busier than a one-armed paper hanger,” but, for some odd reason, I woke up this morning thinking, “If I hear one more hillbilly colloquialism, my cranium will explode!” So we’d better to go with the upgrade: “I’m busier than Kenny G searching for his missing saxophone reed.” By the by, did you know Kenny names his saxophone parts? Yeah, the one he’s looking for is named ”Lou.”

THREE WORDS:

Ba Dum Bum (<–Snare drum sound, get it?

Yeah, speacial audio effects for that last groaner joke.)

BUSY, busy, busy. Reminds me of just one more Jack Handeyism. *checks watch* I think I’ve got time. Heck, for you, I’ll make time:

“TO ME, it’s a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. That way, if anybody says, ‘Hey, can you give me a hand?’ you can say, ‘Sorry, got these sacks.’” –Jack Handey

Got these sacks-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

It’s a Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes

Adam and Eve Under the Apple Tree by Edvard Munch (1863-1944 Norwegian)
Oslo Kommunes Kunst Famlinger, Oslo, Norway
If Honeycrisp apples are wrong,
I don’t wanna be right.

FIFTEEN WORDS:

Bite, chew, savor, and swallow; repeat to the core.
Grab another and have at it.

Great day it, people!
Love,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~~*

Rest in peace,my Mollo, ZuZu, and Mrs. Cleaver.

Bohemian Rhapsody! ...Well...Perhaps If You Squint?

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting a betweenable 140 characters, or even fewer! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
AND
MY STORY:

Because she was saddened to be one brick shy of a load, the villagers hastened to come to their princess’ aid.
–110 characters

TWO WORDS: Farkled Postscript:

IN HAPPIER DAYS to follow, Princess Edybrykell would drop her title, tweak her name a smitch and, along with several of her bohemian-type cohorts, would form a successful alternative rock band.

YES, SAME AS the pre-Edie Brickelled, pictured way above, I, too, “travel light.” But I do not let it get my daubers down, o no, no, no-ly! I haven't any problem with one-brick-lessly going through life, because wasn’t it perpetual twelve-stepping Stuart Smalley who said,

“I am a worthy human being...
and that's...okay."
(?)

PLUS, I use this gift, this talent, this...this...
this I’ve-gotta-be-me predicament
to my best advantage:

I BLOG!

The secret to success lies in positive thinking-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Bidding a Sad So Long to America's Favourite Mom

June Evelyn Bronson Cleaver: The Best Mom in All the Land
Barbara Billingsley
DECEMBER 22, 1915 - OCTOBER 16, 2010

THIS WEEK, and most respectfully in her honour, I will wear a strand of pearls in all my scenes.

Rest peacefully, Miss Billingsley.
I shall remain forever grateful for the memories.
SF~~~~~*

Hammertime OR When It Comes to a Religious Blog, I Just Nailed It!

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

“IF YOU GO THROUGH a lot of hammers each month, I don’t think it necessarily means you’re a hard worker. It may just mean that you have a lot to learn about proper hammer maintenance.” –Jack Handey

WHICH BEGS my asking:

Are you attracted to
stuffed animals?

OOPS!
Sorry, wrong question.

HERE’S WHAT I was really going for:

AGREE or DISAGREE:
Jesus was a carpenter.

AS FOR me, I think it was only out of the kindness of His heart and to pay respect to "Joe" (<-- That's what He called him. It says so in the Bible.) --and maybe, just maybe, it was in exchange for room and board? I dunno-- that Christ merely swept his stepdad’s tool shop floor and occasionally sorted nails. Because, other than that, I'm afraid Jesus wasn’t interested in carpentry. NOPE. Nope, nope, nope. Jesus, ambitiously setting His sights even higher, would achieved His goal.

TWO WORDS:

Motivational Speaker

* regresses *

Gotta Getta GUND-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~ *

Sweet dreams, my Mollo and Zuzie.

P.S. SKIP THE "WORLD PEACE" STUFF.
Instead,
pray fashion history doesn’t repeat itself.

IMAGE CREDITS:
Stuffed animal and the tramp: HERE
Balloon Jesus: Jesus of the Week

Attempting to Really Ring Your Bell

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting a betweenable 140 characters, or even fewer! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

AND SINCE it IS that time of the year,

(Obviously NOT the friendliest "Casper" on the tracks!)

let's get the
Halloweenie ball rolling, too!

THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and MY (GHOST) STORY:

"It's NOT haunted," said entraining Dot. Later, a long gone Choo Choo Charlie would whisper "Good and Plenty!" in her ear and she would pee a little. --149 characters

ONE WORD: BOO!

*dons conductor hat and shuffles off, chugging:*
Good and Plenty-Good and Plenty-Good and Plenty...!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Hot Cookin’ Last Night In My Kitchen!

“AS I WALKED through the woods, I looked up and saw a squirrel. I smiled and he smiled. At least I think it was a smile. My teeth were showing and my cheeks were pulled up. That's a smile, isn't it? (The squirrel was definitely smiling.) –Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!
And, yeah, I’M LATE.

*sighs blissfully*

WHAT A FITTING reference today’s Jack Handey quote is to the “Yeah, I'M LATE” part of my salutation! Well, sort of. I guess it’s more like a connection by association, since squirrels are pretty much THE authority, when it comes to acorning-- which is exactly what I was up to last night instead of posting a Handeyism on time. Confused??? I promise you, it’s only going to get worse. READ ON.

IF YOU KNOW me, and I know I do, you're well aware of the fact that I DON'T cook. I like to think of it as an "food allergy": a hypersensitivity to all things pots and pans.

But last night, I managed to do just that: COOK! (<– again with the”sort of”) Yeah, I actually found a recipe that I could tackle, and that of which reminds me to ask: are you a BIG 30 Rock fan? (The confusion IS getting more confusing, isn’t it? Yep, I neeever break a promise. LOL!) Or maybe you’ve seen only one episode of the show and it just so happens to be first season installment titled “Jack the Writer”? It’s the one that finds Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) brainstorming with the gang about a funnier cereal name (In the running: Honey Bunches of Sadness, Oat-Bung, Swasti-O’s, Fruit Lupis, Dingleberries, F*rt Nuggets <--Sorry. Since this particular “F” word is NOT among my favourites, I cannot WILL NOT bring myself to say it, let alone spell it out. It's because my nun-teachers from long ago Catholic school days insisted that anyone who physically (audibly, or other wise: BEWARE the “Silent, But Deadly”!)-- turned this specific noun into a verb, whether on purpose or if the dreaded, accidental eek-out had taken the reins, would be committing a Venial sin! I dunno why, but for some odd reason, the words “f*rt” and “f*rting” have always made me cRiNgE. “The Magic that Is Me” rides again, eh?!-- Frosted Mini-guns, and Lucky Bastards. Hm. You’d think that I’d think the word “bastard” would send sayers directly to Hell, then, wouldn’t you? But I don’t. Isn’t Farkled life magical?!), while simultaneously trying to keep aspiring writer/ ego-maniac Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) from taking over the writers room.

AT ONE POINT, the conversation
goes something like this:

PETE: Hey.
LIZ: What's up. Good morning.
PETE: So, is Donaghy gonna be in the room again today?
LIZ: Ugh, probably, yeah.
PETE: Well, you have to say something to him. You guys aren’t getting any work done.
LIZ: Really, you don’t think his idea of starting with the catch phrases and working backwards is panning out.
JACK: (Flashback) Nuts to you, McGuillicuddy. Who ordered the wieners? Beep, Beep, Ribby, Ribby.
LIZ: Actually Frank wrote a draft of "Beep, Beep, Ribby, Ribby."

HAVE A LOOK-BACK. See the LARGE, bolded phrase in Jack’s last line? That would be my Hokey Pokey! <-- in essence, the “That’s what it’s all about!” What this is all about!

THREE WORDS:
Nuts to you! (<–literally)

Because here’s the recipe
I made come true last night:

Nilla Wafer

Acorn Cookies

INGREDINTS:

Mini Nilla Wafers

Hershey's Kisses, unwrapped

chocolate frosting or peanut butter

PUT A SMITCH of chocolate frosting or peanut butter on the flat side of the Nilla Wafer and stick it to the flat side of the Hershey's Kiss. TAH-DAH!: You're done! Now squint. Your cookie will look a heck of a lot like

this!

BE CAREFUL though!
If you squint too hard,
the fun will go out of it completely:

Plugging alongly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Sweet dreams, my Mollo and Zuzie.

A Horse is a Horse

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,
sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting a betweenable 140 characters, or even fewer! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and MY STORY:

'TWAS ONLY IN HIS DREAMS that Mr. Ed was an airline pilot.
--58 characters

FOUR WORDS: of course, of course!

What?! I never said I'd
"give you the answer that you'll endorse."

(Yeah, I know my this week's microfiction is pretty lame. SO SHOOT ME. <--Hm. Now that's a line Mr. Ed probably never said.)

I'll be on my way then-ly,

SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Something Wicked This Way Came!

“ADVICE TO VAMPIRES: why not ‘do your business’ as a bat, not a human. Easier that way, and less pollution.” –Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
Risky read ahead.
Please proceed with extreme caution!

SO. IT’S FOUR DAYS AGO and I’m in a grocery store, hating it. I absolutely detest the whole grocery shopping thing, but what’s a person to do? To add to my misery, I’m in one of those warehouse places that are painted Mental Institution Grey (<– Yep, that’s what the paint chip reads. I kid you not.), where the waxed cement floors have a high-shine (“Clean enough to eat off of!” in-store food sample-droppers have been heard to exclaim–>WHEW!<-- much to their relief.), and everything is sold in such ENORMOUS bulk that you can’t seem to justify buying anything, unless you cell phone ahead to quick-rent a PODS® pod to be delivered to your driveway before you get home, so you have someplace to go with all the “necessary” stuff you bought.

THANK GOD, I’m only here for frozen meatballs (another blog story in the making, to be sure a-hem). A woman walks past me carrying the world’s largest jugs of Vagisil® Deodorant Powder (!?!?), one in each hand. (They’ve got to be at least a gallon apiece and actually have industrial strength handles for easier toting!) I cringe. But not to her face, because I am that polite. I wonder to myself whether or not she has Portable On Demand Storage® waiting for her in her driveway.

IN THE FROZEN FOODS department, as I’m staring at the astounding number of corn dogs one can buy in a single bound and wondering, too, if this trip would be going any better if

I was wearing white gloves, a BIG floppy hat and had changed my name to Joanna Eberhart prior to entering the food market, I detect a weird, sting-your-eyes kind of toxic smell permeating the air. A man behind and across from me, seemingly reaching for something in an upright freezer yet takes nothing, stands still, as if time is doing the same. We make eye contact only to then avoid it. My blinders are suddenly on because a real uneasy me feels like something very odd is about to happen. I will soon learn that the man (who happens to have his shopping cart piled so high with toilet paper that it is a mountain of which I want to ask “Why?” about. But then again, do I really want to know the THAT answer??) –-HOLD IT. Now where was I? Oh, yeah, right: I will soon learn that the man IS the “something very odd” about to happen!

AS I SLOWLY (<--trying to be unconspicuous) MOVE myself and my Casa Di Bertacchi® Authentic Italian Meatballs (Man, can you believe the product placement in blog installment?!) away from the gonnabe “scene of the crime,” I look over my shoulder to see the man casually shaking free what is definitely NOT an unwrapped Baby Ruth candy bar from out the bottom of his pant leg!!! In all it’s glory and aroma, his personal poop-wad lands on a beige (not black--GOD, Why not the black?!! ) linoleum floor tile, where it is sooo easily spotlighted --BUT NOT BEFORE StIcKiLy (Ew!) ROLLING A SMITCH (like it has a life of its own) FIRST!

ONE WORD:

(Thank your lucky stars that good ol’ thoughtful me is sparing you The Image!)
Acrid!!!

AS IF NOTHING incredibly insane has just transpired via his “extended” poop shoot, a completely unaffected Dr. Pooper (And just for the record: NO, I wouldn't like to be a "Pooper," too!) keenly navigating his “mountain,” rides off into the Sam’s Club sunset. Instantly, I am moving like, you guessed it:

FIVE MORE WORDS:

a bat out of hell!!!

Because, hey and surely, do NOT for a minute
think I'm going to take the blame!

I AM STILL IN SHOCK as I nervously turn on the ignition of my getaway car, much-to-my-dismayishly prominently parked in the store’s parking lot. I cold-sweats wonder if store security might still nab me on a technicality. Some sort of Doody Onus by Association thing??! I think I read about that once somewhere...!

AS I ANXIOUSLY THINK think through the scene over and again, another real shocker surfaces in my brain, specifically: the first thought to have entered my surprised, little head upon witnessing such inappropriate human waste disposal probably should have been the second. But it wasn't?!

NAMELY:

“I thought you had to wear underwear
grocery shopping.”

*channeling the late, great Johnny Carson*
How Do Dey Do Dat?-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Image credits:
October 1st Bun originally downloaded at Banjo Bunny
Batty bat: 7 Deadly Sinners
Batman drawers borrowed from Big Glee
Stepford "dolls" shop till they drop: Fandango Groovers
Meatloaf - "Bat out of Hell": Malibu Mafia