It’s Saturday! The weekend! A day to kick back with friends, do a little dance, take your Visa for a slide-and-sign at your favorite shop.
For me, it’s quality time with my sometimes friend, Huey P. Ackard, and soon-to-be-famous Michelle “Mitch” Madison, an eleven-year-old star (!) of a middle-grade series.
Mitch snapped my garter and weaseled me into writing two manuscripts during the same time frame. At the moment, Mitch is knicker-deep in things that do not happen in the real world.
I invited two of our friends to take over the column today so Mitch and Huey P. Ackard could continue plotting against me.
First, my new buddy, Squee Key is pitch-walking from our home base at Starbucks in Southlake, TX to Toronto for tea with award-winning author, Sherry Isaac.
Sherry is an awesome, wonderful, supportive friend, a talented writer, and…
She has a secret.
A pink, fluffy, stuffed animal secret. A secret she hasn’t yet exposed on her relaunched Blog, Wildflower.
I snatched the time-saving opportunity to expose Sherry’s secret instead of inventing my own blog topic.
MEET SHNORTY ISAAC
Yawn. Erm. Sorry.
Where are my manners? Gone missing with the sleep I am not getting, I suppose.
I may look like a farm animal, but I did not grow up where roosters crack the dawn.
YO! Squee-Key! Are you close yet? I need help up here.
I. Am. Worried. Where are you?
Dude! I’m walking as fast as I can. I walked 51.01 miles but I still have 67 to the Texas/Arkansas state line.
“It’s a big state,” she says.
“We have short legs,” she says.
Here! Take these WILDFLOWERS off my hands, will you? They’re heavy.
It might be illegal to pick them and I don’t want to spend time in the Hoosegow.
Who are you calling a pansy?
Ooooh! The flowers. Pansies.
stole borrowed them from the Starbucks in Rockwall–an open blog present for you. So! What’s up with the, “I. AM. WORRIED,” bit?
BACK TO SHNORTY
Thanks for the wildflowers,
But, try and keep it down, will you?
See how innocent she looks now? All sleepy-bye and everything?
Trouble is, I don’t know what’s going to happen when she wakes up. Saturdays are Psychological Sizzle day at WILDFLOWER Press.
Sizzle. That word had me worried.
What do you mean, why?”
You know the sound bacon makes when it’s cooking, right? You know where bacon comes from, right?
I survived all the Sizzles she plunked on the net so far.
Aunt Minerva went missing a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t mind that so much. She was one of those aren’t-you-the-cutest thing cheek-pinchers.
All four of them.
Today’s headline is A Zone of my Own.
Sherry. Sizzle. Zone.
I thought I could handle that. I thought I was safe. I thought…
I stopped thinking when I read the first line. “Kill your darlings.”
ACK! I can’t look at the rest of it. You read it for me. Here. If I’m still alive by the end of it. bleep me. Meanwhile, I’m going to hide in the kitchen cabinets.
The garage. I’ll hide in the garage.
DO NOT TELL her where I am.
DO let me know if I live to Shnort another day, will you?
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