tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post4813219463454660073..comments2024-03-18T09:09:59.625-04:00Comments on Janet Reid, Literary Agent: Texts from Mittens writing contest!Janet Reidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00615380335938685231noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-39273291431885031502015-06-21T11:58:17.308-04:002015-06-21T11:58:17.308-04:00Our gang called themselves Wicked Angels. An oxym...Our gang called themselves Wicked Angels. An oxymoron if I ever heard one. <br />What’s in a name? Let me offer this.<br /><br />Our leader, Phil DeFete, smitten over some dishy famous singer, refused to concede to my logic after she dumped him. <br /><br />It’s kismet, I said, think about it. Even your very own name. DeFete, pronounced defeat. And the guys? Hell, they’re conflicted. Doling out illegal pain killers down at the nursing home. Stealing cars and giving them to Meals-On-Wheels.<br /><br />He wasn’t in the mood for bullshit logic, as he called it.<br /><br />Fine. You tell me. The singer? Patty Loveless.<br /> <br />Donnaevehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09026536210749494257noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-45199942703223932702015-06-21T11:49:01.841-04:002015-06-21T11:49:01.841-04:00Did Hemingway start it? Who cares? It’s my favorit...Did Hemingway start it? Who cares? It’s my favorite English assignment. Saves time. Easy grading. I pretend it’s legitimate. <br /><br />Begin with the lazy student, calls himself a philosopher.<br />For sale. Baby mittens. Never worn.<br />F for borderline plagiarism.<br /><br />See what the shy kid wants to say.<br />Patty. Never fit. New choice. Patrick!<br />Explains a lot.<br /><br />How about the biker gang chick, mad at the world.<br />Special delivery. Surprise! Happy Father’s Day.<br />Mental note: Don’t flirt with her. (Hey, six words!)<br /><br />What about that scary new kid, front row?<br />Dear Dishonest Teacher: Karma’s a bitch.<br />Remember to sign his drop slip.<br />John Frainhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01702305890462479118noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-8142648786385390162015-06-21T11:10:56.511-04:002015-06-21T11:10:56.511-04:00“Phee, Phi, Pho, Phum!” called Phil the Short Gian...“Phee, Phi, Pho, Phum!” called Phil the Short Giant of Carkoon.<br /><br />“Let's go see the Shark,” said Patty, the girlfriend of Phil, who loomed over him.<br /><br />“There are no sharks here on Carkoon. The Shark maroons commenters who stray to this planet of Lima-bean monoculture.”<br /><br />“Let's go to Our Gang's and have a dish of Lima beans.”<br /><br />“Great idea! The Kittens with Mittens are playing tonight.”<br /><br />“I love Carkoon Blues.”<br /><br />“Maybe the Carkoon Maroonies will show up.”<br /><br />“Nah. It's Wednesday. They'll be at the Novel Hovel for open-query night.”<br /><br />“So sad.”Lancehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17335923263777449916noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-88083098201742988242015-06-21T09:16:02.502-04:002015-06-21T09:16:02.502-04:00He was playing patty-cake with himself--not an eas...He was playing patty-cake with himself--not an easy feat with the mittens he insisted on wearing. The drosophila flew around his unshaven face like miniature spaceships, and gangrene was starting to invade his bedsores.<br /><br />"I'll be back soon," I said. I couldn't stand watching him any longer.<br /><br />He crunched a radish and chewed it slowly. "No doctors."<br /><br />"I know," I said wearily. It was a point we'd fought about many times. "No doctors."<br /><br />"Don't believe in 'em," he called as I walked out the door.<br /><br />I started the car and drove straight to the gun show.Just Janhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12546035917149403735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-71629144195119565992015-06-21T08:18:28.209-04:002015-06-21T08:18:28.209-04:00Patty was too late—-never heard a splash. She lean...<b>Patty</b> was too late—-never heard a splash. She leaned over the railing of the Han<b>gang</b> Bridge. Plastic bags floated by. <br /> <br />A man approached, dragging recyclables, sy<b>phil</b>itic spots on his face. <br /><br />“Lose something?” he asked. <br /><br />“My brother, Jun.” <br /><br />Patty searched her phone for a picture, held out the screen.<br /><br />“Suicides—-so chil<b>dish</b>,” he said. He smiled. “20,000 Won and I’ll bring him back.”<br /><br />She didn’t understand, but she paid. When he pocketed the money, she heard the splash. She looked down and saw a lone <b>mitten</b>—-Jun's—-at the surface.<br /><br />“Best get him out quick,” the man said. “River’s cold.”Tony Clavellihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16567479168804189982noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-31463469657903213062015-06-21T08:09:25.684-04:002015-06-21T08:09:25.684-04:00“Gangliadophilus?” What the hell? Kaitlin dropkick...“Gangliadophilus?” What the hell? Kaitlin dropkicked him into a different world.<br /><br />“I think that’s what she said,” her ponytail snaked over her sun-browned shoulder, her eyes intent, serious. Mike treasured her trusting grip as they shopped groceries for the weekend. “Y’know, that stuff in yogurt that straightens out the disharmony in your guts.”<br /><br />“You mean Lactobacillus acidophilus.”<br /><br />“Yeah. That. Padishah said it did wonders for her complexion.” <br /><br />He loved entering her world. “Padishah?”<br /><br />“Mommy’s friend. She works at Smitten Charms.”<br /><br />Snort. Which of his ex-wife’s friends… “You mean Patricia. Patty.”<br /><br />“That’s what I said, Daddy. Can we buy some? Please?”Lisa Bodenheimhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17809067722921953857noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-57345272963441713572015-06-21T06:00:23.080-04:002015-06-21T06:00:23.080-04:00The dish hit the wall with a loud, splintering cra...The dish hit the wall with a loud, splintering crash. Congealing spaghetti oozed down the wall. In the sudden silence, the soft, sucking sound each gangly noodle made as it crawled the floor seemed loud in his ears.<br /><br />“You philandering piece of crap!” Patty shrieked, hurling the salad bowl in her husband’s direction.<br /><br />He ducked, but said nothing. When she got like this, it was better to let her rage. Nothing he said would quiet her. A mitten to the mouth might, but he didn’t have one handy. He glanced at his lap and the napkin draped across it. Maybe…<br />Kate Larkindalehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06202347563426692610noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-33647297866135004252015-06-21T03:57:20.584-04:002015-06-21T03:57:20.584-04:00A disheveled philosopher played patty-cake with th...A disheveled philosopher played patty-cake with the universe as the Ganges carried a forgotten mitten to the Bay of Bengal.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06227860969828403026noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-44685876573468482612015-06-21T02:50:34.967-04:002015-06-21T02:50:34.967-04:00
Toe For Tat
She lay catatonic, stared at her sel...<br />Toe For Tat<br /><br />She lay catatonic, stared at her selfie-with-toe. The surgeon held the phone, said she still had nine.<br /><br />Who knew pedicures were risky. She chose Chlorophilly-Mint, the Summer’s rave tone. Paid the filthy girl cash, no receipt, no witness, no proof.<br /><br />Sunburn fooled her, explained the fever. Wearing open-toe pumps swelled it hamburger-patty pink. Weeklong parties after graduation blurred the worry. <br /><br />Now it was in a metal dish. Puffy mitten, gangrene-black. It’s nail a mint-green square.<br /><br />She’d twit it. The web would be her judge, the world her jury.<br /><br />angie Brooksby-Arcangiolihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08000615140577512304noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-68597931950560306182015-06-21T02:47:05.690-04:002015-06-21T02:47:05.690-04:00What a dish she was, sleek and preening herself wi...What a dish she was, sleek and preening herself without a care. Long legs languishing on the couch, head thrown back in blissful abandon. Her eyes slits of pleasure. I was smitten with the first gangly teenage pit patty of my heart. <br /><br />But how was I to know her velvet purrs were just a ruse? A come on. Lounging in the philodendrons was a cinnamon tom, whipcord tail waiting for my puss. <br /><br />Not tonight monsieur chat. The hiss and zip of a tin of pate was lure enough to cage my ardent queen.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17642353106044662905noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-26591764686192672742015-06-21T01:34:42.015-04:002015-06-21T01:34:42.015-04:00She ‘ad a man once. Lanky gangling thing, like e’d...She ‘ad a man once. Lanky gangling thing, like e’d been stretched, but I daresay she was smitten. But fate’s a fiendish bitch, and it left ‘er family cursed.<br /><br />Poor fool loved ‘er anyway, but she wouldn’t do that to ‘im, no she wouldn’t. Left ‘im in the night, moved to that ol’ house uphill. Played pattycake with the teeny ones, but never ‘ad ‘er own, not with that curse.<br /><br />Found ‘er dead last year. Old age, ya know. Spent ‘er whole life waiting for a fate that never came.<br /><br />But wouldn’t ya say ‘er life was still cursed?Kathryn Clarkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16319864371166087744noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-69660298513951772015-06-21T01:03:12.311-04:002015-06-21T01:03:12.311-04:00Mittens? What kind of name was that anyway? Kenny ...Mittens? What kind of name was that anyway? Kenny had always been a philanderer but how stupid could he be to log her name under THAT in his phone? Patty was her real name. The police told me so. I saw her in the back of the cop car when the coroner finally arrived. She was bloody and gangly and entirely too young for my husband. I bet he told her she was a real dish. That’s what he used to tell me when I was her age. But I guess none of that matters anymore.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15699776838706984661noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-78558459230329122962015-06-20T23:57:44.185-04:002015-06-20T23:57:44.185-04:00Not sure why it sniffed a spam.
"Patty Gorx...Not sure why it sniffed a spam.<br /> <br />"Patty Gorxski, re-nouned sellist. Tix $50".<br /> <br />Patty Gorxski! Imagine! Smells legit to me.<br /><br />Not like it was email or eBay. It was CraigsList. Good stuff!<br /><br />Printed it out. Followed direktions. Everything into envelope. Addressed. Stamped.<br /> <br />Re-viewed direktions one last time …<br /><br /> "Phil in blinks. Inklose remittens." <br /><br />Done! Sealed it, dropped it into mail slot.<br /><br />Yup! I'm gang to here world re-nouned sellist Patty Gorxski! Just my dish a tea!<br /><br />Imagine!<br /><br />Smell bad? Hey, no! Nothing wrong with my old factory cents.<br /><br />Skorda big won!Pam Powellhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10535615408563055466noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-89562359287115434512015-06-20T22:32:09.876-04:002015-06-20T22:32:09.876-04:00Failing to plaster the lone curl to his forehead, ...Failing to plaster the lone curl to his forehead, the hopeful lad tugged his zigzag-print shirt taut and embarked upon a new phase.<br /><br />Outside, he topped a red dish with kibble, receiving an up nod from a rooftop Baron.<br /><br />Arriving at the Patty’s door, while clutching fresh petunias, he knocked. Inside, he heard the gang dancing to Schroeder’s banging tunes, but he’d transcended such childish actions. The five-cent advice to foremost pursue love became his new philosophy.<br /><br />“Ma’am, I’m here to profess my love for your daughter.”<br /><br />“Wa-wah wah wa-wah.”<br /><br />“Oh, she’s smitten with the blanket boy now. Good Grief!”<br />Steven D.https://www.blogger.com/profile/07376948819582291041noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-9658992085511025222015-06-20T22:17:41.727-04:002015-06-20T22:17:41.727-04:00T'was a blustery night in Philadelphia in the ...T'was a blustery night in Philadelphia in the small house situated atop a grassy hill. Mittens slept beside the fireplace with her litter of kittens, along with their mistress Patty.<br /><br />The windows were closed to keep out the cold night. Everything was peaceful until Mittens suddenly awoke to a dish dropping to the ground with a smash. “It's nothing” thought the fluffy black cat and eventually fell asleep.<br /><br />The gang of robbers froze, cursing the smashed dish. When the cats settled in again, they crept softly to her precious kittens, lifted the basket, and scurried out into the night.Kelsie Kasandriahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15486010018027184663noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-73765803053743164182015-06-20T22:05:06.497-04:002015-06-20T22:05:06.497-04:00“Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker’s man, bake me a ca...“Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker’s man, bake me a cake as fast as you can.” The usual gang of ragamuffins was there – Phil, Patty and Michael. And there was a new kid – Frankie. A wiry, runtish figure of dishevelled hair and baggy crumpled clothes. He was playing the game with mittens. Why? When mean-spirited Michael yanked off one of them, we saw the reason. No fingernails atop bruised, bloody stumpy digits.Gingermollymarilynhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15684318210445109786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-77818848913047945862015-06-20T21:06:59.626-04:002015-06-20T21:06:59.626-04:00I pull back the screen door, AJ in tow, Patty trai...I pull back the screen door, AJ in tow, Patty trailing.<br /><br />"First time?" the desk woman chirps.<br /><br />I nod, answer countless questions then take an empty Wal-Mart bag and join the waiting unwashed. The new price for life's necessities.<br /><br />Winter stuff's out, we're told.<br /><br />Free books: 'Ross Perot - Gangster or Guru', 'Erotic Philosophy'.<br /><br />AJ inspects the toys.<br /><br />Patty and I assess clothing: fat sweaters, jeans, a reddish-brown coat, buttons missing.<br /><br />AJ finds the mittens. "Look, Mommy!" He grins, wiggles his fingers, tucked in sky-blue knitting.<br /><br />"Too small," I say, thankful he's young and can't read 'AJLW' on the tag.Hermina Boylehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03373655531972239199noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-45534244525976331512015-06-20T20:41:51.113-04:002015-06-20T20:41:51.113-04:00His deep brown eyes held my gaze as he smiled and ...His deep brown eyes held my gaze as he smiled and extended his hand. <br />“Hi, name’s Phil,” he said.<br /> I could feel my heart doing its little flutter. He was so dishy.<br /> “Pleased to meet you, Phil. I’m Patricia, but most people call me Patty.” I took his hand firmly and began to shake it, but Phil had other ideas. He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. I was smitten.<br />“What say we get away from this gang?” he suggested, putting his arm around my waist. <br />We left the room without a word.<br /> <br />We’re still together.<br />Allison Newchurchhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00639341318039077271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-60317465840027651132015-06-20T20:05:52.283-04:002015-06-20T20:05:52.283-04:00“Hey Mitten”, I said. “Dishwasher’s broke again.” ...“Hey Mitten”, I said. “Dishwasher’s broke again.” <br /><br />She turned her attention away from the grill and snarled.<br /><br />“I told you not to call me that. My name is Phil.” <br /><br />“Sorry”, I said, tugging at a severed finger that was wedged in the inner tube. “But everybody in the gang has a nickname. That’s just the way it goes.”<br /><br />“I know, but can we pick our own?”<br /><br />“Afraid not”, I said, wagging the severed finger at her.<br /><br />“Gross”, she said. “I’ve just lost my appetite.” <br /><br />She threw a half cooked patty in the bin, turned around, and gave me the finger.SimonFrancisDowlinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03561423543128760063noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-75094295463770783482015-06-20T19:23:09.540-04:002015-06-20T19:23:09.540-04:00Gangland shooting, they said.
Lieutenant Taylor c...Gangland shooting, they said.<br /><br />Lieutenant Taylor cradled his son’s chubby thighs as he slathered on Cetaphil.<br /><br />One dead, but it sounded bad. The kitchen was crusted with entrails. Looked like a hamburger patty exploded.<br /><br />It would wait. Taylor gazed down into the crib. He was smitten. He was freakishly, outlandishly happy.<br /><br />“You have to go?” Charlene said from the doorway. Her eyes were dark little pools of worry. It was his thirty-fourth murder, but first Father’s Day.<br /><br />The lieutenant closed his eyes. His partner had texted. He’d discarded the weapon, but he needed cover. Only Taylor knew the drill.<br /><br />“Yeah.” <br />Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02927341320624880126noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-85277646501988005772015-06-20T18:46:58.892-04:002015-06-20T18:46:58.892-04:00Patty Cake was smitten with her extra-large, pink ...Patty Cake was smitten with her extra-large, pink hairless ape, but she hated his philandering ways. Five alpha-females under her roof were intolerable, and the midnight gangland sneak attacks while she slept made her cranky. <br /><br />Patty booted up the computer. World domination starts with a keystroke. The satellite dish tracked Geo-Sat and she accessed Russian launch codes to annihilate her enemies. <br /><br />Login:<br /><br />Patty considered...nuke them all?<br /><br />Patty nodded at the computer screen...hell yes...blast them all to smithereens!<br /><br />She typed the alphanumeric code and reached for the enter button. <br /><br />"Aww, how cute! Look everybody! The cat's typing!"<br /><br />Damn, thought Patty Cake, so close. <br /><br />Kreggerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07229620504046221727noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-5162063199197154822015-06-20T18:09:50.587-04:002015-06-20T18:09:50.587-04:00Philomena brings me the news along with my daily d...Philomena brings me the news along with my daily dish. The big news is that the new strain will be mature in only 200 more cycles. Then we will remove Patty Mittenhands her atrocious gang of mutants from the Fires of Creation, which they worshiped. They polluted themselves and could no longer be our people<br /><br />Then I can again become the Captain and turns those Fires back to the Drive. With our course reset our goal will be attainable. We will finish our mission place our sleeping people on a fresh world. The primitive Earth could use our glorious civilization.Craig Fhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07157301156577795781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-7452832479276848742015-06-20T17:33:18.530-04:002015-06-20T17:33:18.530-04:00I am absolutely smitten with Nelson's new phil...I am absolutely smitten with Nelson's new philosophy that he crafted so perfectly in his newest book. I can see how everything that could possibly happen, even things that couldn't; it all works now! I had started reading his theories since I was an awkward, gangly teenager, but never until now did it change me. I can make the world so small it could get lost in a dish of ice cream or squash it into a patty of mush. I can control the essence of the universe.Arya al'Thorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16957668960482866105noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-28816339983854916852015-06-20T17:27:16.629-04:002015-06-20T17:27:16.629-04:00‘Have you got any with Phil?’
‘Minions are extra....‘Have you got any with Phil?’<br /><br />‘Minions are extra. You know that. I’ve got two Mitten the Kitten and Grumpy Cat playing patty-cake.’<br /><br />‘I can get the cash.’<br /><br />It was hard to see his expression in the dark alley. My hand closed into a fist around the flash drive. This exchange didn’t feel right anymore. Memes could dish you out five years.<br /><br />‘Are you a cop?’<br /><br />He hesitated, and I heard my gang split and run behind me. Cowards. <br /><br />‘Are you a cop?’ I repeated.<br /> <br />He shook his head but he was reaching. <br /><br />I pushed him aside, hard, and ran. <br />Katherine Haytonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17704577461725998949noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-54882993761798308152015-06-20T16:48:33.779-04:002015-06-20T16:48:33.779-04:00Patty set her sights on the philharmonic at the te...Patty set her sights on the philharmonic at the tender age of seven, before she knew a single note of Wolfgang A. and still sawed away at scales on a half size violin.<br /><br />In high school, she was smitten by her one true love at the youth orchestra, when he clashed the dishes at the wrong time and turned the color of his cummerbund. After, they were inseparable.<br /><br />The Juilliard auditions came, and they took the train together, hands intertwined, instrument cases between their feet. When he got his acceptance letter and she did not, their rhythm broke apart.Jennifer R. Donohuehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00363886899308588391noreply@blogger.com