Moonlight Skate


Frozen Moon – photo by Wild Thing

Warm old truck
5 years old
“Where are we
going Daddy?”
“You’ll see.”

Rough road
Lots of bumps
She giggles
When she flies
Off her seat

Deep in the swamp
Large bag
On his shoulder
Short walk
Narrow path

Under moonlit sky
Snow glistens
On a pond
Blue square
Empty of snow

nature’s bench
Carefully stacked
Just offshore
Bonfire wood

In the bag
His old ones
New white
Double blade
Ones for her

Hand in hand
He guides her
Teaches her
Until sure
She can skate
On her own

Wild Thing ©2017

Written for Prompt 2.21
Writing Rebels




Fogged State – photo by Wild Thing

fish fry
everyone there
said yes
will end it
in a month
mom pushes
for a date
dad’s business
wiped out
mom fired
sis and brother
still in school
left college
found a job
my family
new house
had to be sold
broke mom’s heart
bought Christmas
boom box
for brother
hope chest
for sister
turned 20
told mom
no wedding
she said
cold feet
shake it off
money already spent
grasped my arm
it hurt
dad called out
now what
mom said
forgot to
take up the hem
kicked my
wedding dress
down the aisle
crying all the way

Wild Thing ©2017

Apple Pie


8 – BALL Rack ’em Up! – photo by Wild Thing

I love to shoot pool. I shoot in several leagues and numerous tournaments at the end of the season: team, singles, doubles, 8-ball, 9-ball … you name the game and there are tournaments for it.

One year, my women’s team and I were in the Wisconsin State Team Tournament in the Dells at the Kalahari Resort. This was a 3 day tournament so we would need to stay the weekend. The Kalahari is a pretty swanky place and expensive; to save money, we reserved rooms at a Super 8 that was close by. We always brought food and drinks with us to help keep costs down as well.

One of our yearly rituals was for Sally to make her Apple Pie. It is a homemade liquor and I’m not sure what all is in it, but I know apple cider, cinnamon and Everclear (a grain alcohol that is 190 proof) is in it. She would make gallons for this weekend. It is great cold or hot and it tastes just like apple pie! You could drink it nonstop so easily; there was a caveat with it though, if you were not familiar with it, you would end up drunk before you knew what hit you.

Before the start of a tournament we always gathered for drink to talk strategy and just chill out and it helped to pump us up too. Just before we would leave, Sally got out the Apple Pie. We each lifted a glass in a silent toast then drank it down. Then with cues in their cases and well a stocked briefcase looking bag with our apple pie we went out the door.

Two matches later we were done shooting until noon the next day. We locked the cues up and kept the bag with the Apple Pie in it. It was party time! We table hopped from team to team that still had to play as start times were staggered. Men’s teams were there too, so we stopped at their tables as well. It was all part of the fun to stop and chat, cheer, flirt if it was called for and catch up on tournament gossip, (which men are far worse than women!) then move on to the next table of friends.

As we roamed around the tournament site, we decided that we would try to help our one teammate “get lucky”. She had complained that she had no boyfriend and was feeling a little, shall we say, “Affectionate”.  The acronym for the tournament was WAMO and we were calling it the WAMO Dating game. We made up the rules as we went along just nonsense; people laughed at our ridiculousness. Anyone who agreed to be in the game was given a drink of Apple Pie. This had to be done carefully it was against the rules to bring any kind of “carry in” to the tournament. To enforce this, there were rent-a-cops walking around to watch for it.

My team was known for walking up to various guys and grabbing them in the butt if we thought the butt was worthy of it. In our quest for game contestants as we were walking from table to table, we were checking out butts. If we found one worth grabbing, it was grabbed. Then of course, a shot of Apple Pie had to be drunk! When we stopped to sit and chat with a team, we’d yell “Team Drink!” and out came the Apple Pie.

I still smoked at this time and so did my teammate Sally. When we wanted to have a smoke, we had to go outside. This could take time as we would stop to talk to those coming in and there might be a butt that needed grabbing as well. At one point, Sally and I made our way outside to have a cigarette and while out there we visited with other players smoking. Out from the coat pockets came the flasks of Apple Pie to share with those there. We finished our smokes put them out and went back in filled with bonhomie and Apple Pie. All the while Sally and I talked and laughed our way back; we came up on a gentleman walking right in front of us. Sally elbows me thought it was a security guard; but it wasn’t! It was a Wisconsin State Patrolman. I could see what she couldn’t, the patch on his shoulder.

Before I knew what was happening she reached out and grabbed his right buttock! The side that his gun was on! As she’s reaching I could hear me yell “Noooo Sallyyyyyy don’tttttt!” in that kind of low, long, slow motion voice you hear in movies.  I reached to try and stop her but I was too late, her hand had a handful of his butt and she was holding on for all she was worth!

He whirled around to see two grown women with their hands out, one laughing hysterically and the other looking scared to death! All I could think was that we were off to jail! I’m sure he thought his gun was being stolen. I started to wonder what the penalty was for misdemeanor sexual assault of a police officer was. When she looked up and realized it wasn’t a security guard, she says “Oops, sorry officer!”

Interesting side fact about my friend Sally, she has dentures and rarely wears them. When she does, like this time, and is drunk, like this time, they tend to slip and sometimes partially come out of her mouth, like they did this time. So the word “officer” came out kind of something like “offither”, with some spittle that landed on his tie which she quickly tried to wipe off with one hand and with the other she took her teeth out and showed them to him and lisped “These fuckin’ things drive me crazy!” I thought “That’s it; we’re goin’ to the local pokey for sure!”

I started to talk and by that I mean sweet talk as fast as I could. I explained to him about our little game. How she thought he was a security guard, that she wasn’t trying to take his gun, she didn’t mean anything by it and on and on I went. I don’t know if it was anything I said, or if it was Sally standing there grinning at him toothless, but he finally smiled at us and said just be careful next time.  To which Sally said she would grab his left cheek next time! He roared and walked away. I stood there shocked expression on my face then just cracked up laughing! She popped her teeth back in her mouth, smiled at me and I laughed even harder.

It all started with Apple Pie.

Wild Thing©2016


The 4-Mile


The 4 Mile – photo by Wild Thing

One of the things I can say about my life is that I have never shied away from a new experience. I’m always up for expanding my horizons. This adventuresome spirit has to say the least, gotten me into trouble at times. I often deny this tendency only for form’s sake while laughing the entire time! One time in particular comes to mind.

Back in the very early days of my marriage, both my husband and I bartended at the local bar in addition to our full time day jobs; we had just bought an old farmhouse and the extra income was to pay for the remodeling it so desperately needed. It was only on the weekends and once in a while the occasional weeknight.

One particularly dreary Friday night in the middle of winter, my husband was bartending. There were only 2 customers in the bar, a friend of ours and me. The three of us were talking about this and that. Our friend and I were trying to decide what to do. There was no pool table in the bar, it was too small and there were no other activities like darts, etc.

We fell into companionable silence, then I perked up and with mischief in my eyes, I said, “Why don’t we go to the 4-mile!?” Now before I go further, I should explain that the 4-Mile was a Gentlemen’s Club. The ladies there stripped completely naked … and it had been in business in our little town for many years.

Our friend laughed and said “Ok.” but my husband said “NO WAY!” Of course I asked why not, I had never been to a strip bar before and I thought it would be a great thing to do on a boring night. Besides, the three of us had done many things together that were firsts for all of us. Getting our first tattoos being one. (Another one of my ideas which come to think of it, a lot of our firsts usually are.)

He was firm though and said, “The only reason I say no is because I can’t go with the two of you.” Our friend laughed and asked him if he didn’t trust us. My husband looked at us and said, “No, I don’t. You two need me with to keep you out of trouble.” This was ridiculous in my opinion and I said so and our friend agreed.  My husband wasn’t having any of it. “Uh uh… first, you,” and he points to me, “will make some smart ass comment and the next thing I know you,” and he points to our friend, “will get into a fight defending her, and the next thing I know, I’m getting a call from the county jail to come get your sorry asses! So no … you’re not going to the 4-Mile!”

Well … fast-forward 3 years later. The three of us were on our way to a nearby town’s annual city celebration. You know the kind they have in the summer, parade, fireworks, carnival, beer tent with entertainment. We had just left when we weren’t but a fourth of a mile down the road, when it began to pour. We were on the motorcycles and we had to get off the highway. We were not dressed for riding in a torrential downpour.

If you haven’t guessed by now, we had to pull into the 4-mile; it was a fourth mile down from where we lived, hence its name. I was delighted! Finally I was going to get to go to a strip bar. So we walk in dripping wet, our leather soaked and heavy. At the bar we ordered our drinks. I was appalled to find out I had to pay $5.00 for a Diet Coke!!!! Please don’t say, well that’s not too bad, it’s a strip club after all. This was in Wisconsin … in the 80’s! We don’t pay $5.00 for a mixed drink today even in a regular bar! $3.50 is the going rate!

As I had promised right before walking in that I would be good, (to guess who under the threat of being made to sit under awning outside) I said nothing. We turned around on our stools to watch the show. My husband was on my right side, our friend on my left. Did I mention that the three of us practically did everything together in those days? If I didn’t, my apologies, we practically did everything together in those days.

The girl on stage got naked to some music and I was more interested in watching the men and their behavior, which was amusing to say the least. Some I knew and many I didn’t know. When the music was done, she was done and left the stage.

The next girl came on the stage, wiped down the pole with some sort of spray and a white towel, put them off to the side and then took her place by the pole. She nodded to another girl off to the side. Music started and she began to dance.

Now, I thought perhaps she would be different from the girl before her, nope she did the exact same dance moves as the one before her. I thought it was odd that she didn’t do something different, something to get more tips, then I saw that the men gave her just as many tips as the girl before her. I realized that men really didn’t care about what the girls were doing so much as what the girls were showing them.

I chuckled to myself and continued to observe. Being as good as good can be.

It wasn’t long, that a girl came up to my husband and asked him for a dollar. (Quick note here, the girls ask the customers for dollars for the jukebox so they have music to dance to. Would have been nice to have been told that ahead of time don’t you think?) She had a wad of dollars in her hand and as I watched him dig a dollar bill out of his pocket, I politely, and I swear it was politely, asked, “Why are you asking him for a dollar, when you already have a handful?”

Her head whipped around and she gives me the once over and then with the dirtiest of looks says to me “Shut the fuck up you biker slut!” Now, I know I promised to be good, but really, what would you do? I of course was not going to take that insult sitting down.

I stood up and looked her in the eye and said, “What did you call me you little whore?” (She was like 4’8” and weighed 89 pounds so even in her platforms at 5’6” we were eye to eye.)

Well … you can imagine what happened then. She had a boyfriend there so he got involved calling me the not very nice “C” word for which he received a broken nose from our friend and before you know it, it was an all out bar room brawl. The one bouncer grabbed our friend and me by our collars and dragged us to the door. My husband followed behind yelling, “I’ll get them out, let go of them!”

After the door slammed shut, we stood blinking in the daylight it had stopped raining. My husband stood looking at the two of us and said “See! I told you two what would happen if you two went to a strip bar!”

I really hate when he’s right.

Prompt #49

prompt 49 Weird

I’m Ready for my Close-Up Mr. DeMille – photo by Wild Thing

As being chosen to go first to kick off the celebration of the one-year anniversary of “Writing Outside the Lines”, I just want to say a little bit.

When Annie suggested starting this, I gave her my full support. I thought it would be a great thing to do even though I felt that I was a horrible writer. I have to tell you, I was terrified to submit that first piece.

I found as I went along though, that I felt more at ease. As I relaxed, so did my writing. Slowly it got a little better. I know when one is good and when one is merely ok. I’m learning as I go and I’m okay with that.

None of this would have been possible, had I not had the constant support of Annie. Through it all, she was there, right beside me, not pushing, not once! But cheering me all the way! She has always encouraged me to stretch further than I thought I could.

Without that, I doubt I would be here today writing this. I would have given up ages ago. But because of the time Annie gave unselfishly to me, I am here today leading out with the first prompt!

So Happy One-Year Anniversary WOL! I raise my glass to my fellow Writing Rebels & say “Here’s to the next year! May we be as prolific as we were this first year! CHEERS!”

Now on to the prompt, as an Aquarian, I am a weirdo. So the above quote by Hunter S. Thompson has always been kind of like my motto.       Are you weird?     How so?     Do you have a motto?     What is it & why?     Or does the turtle inspire you?     She is quite gorgeous … smiling at you.     The name of the photo is: “I’m Ready For My Close Up Mr. DeMille”.     Her name is Yolanda and she was going to lay eggs.             Now I hope I’ve given you inspiration to write whatever moves you!           Aren’t you glad I don’t give prompts every week????

Wild Thing