As the short fella stood watching, the tall guy stood behind the table, one arm held dramatically out before him, the other hand gripping the brim of a shiny top hat. He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand as the drum rolled.
The little guy in the helmet and goggles squinched his eyes shut as the tall fellow’s hand descended into the hat. His head tipped slightly, his rack of antlers magnifying the tilt. Suddenly his hand emerged, fingers clutched in the poll of a giant bear, which let out an unhappy roar.
“I gotta get a new hat.”
Awww, Bev. You make me miss Saturday morning cartoons.
Hee! 100 woids, on the nosey.
Yuk, yuk, yuk, Bev.
Hat
Robert chose a rather jaunty beret for the excursion. Anna said, "Lunch at my club will be easy." She was a member by virtue of being old Atlanta, not because she'd paid the current five-figure membership fee. The dining room was a sea of blue hair punctuated by the occasional table of dark-suited businessmen. The tuxedoed maitre d' who had served her Shirley Temples 30 years before hurried over and whispered, "Miss Anna, your guest needs to remove his hat." She replied loudly, "He can't. He has cancer." As they sat down, their helpless tears of laughter dropped into their melting frozen fruit salads.
Very pointy, Ginger. Nicely done.
Any available readers for chapter 3 final and chapter 4 draft today or tonight?
Mostly need four. Ate my brain. Too preachy maybe.
Allyson I'd love to read your stuff. I'm lagarat at gmail.
Venting quietly in here, because if I vent where this happened, I will be looked upon as a Green Meanie of the highest order. But seriously, who on earth thinks it's okay to break their longtime lurking on a professional writers' loop with a post asking for medical advice??
And what's worse, the number of responses/commiserations (not sure which because I was just hitting delete like a madwoman) was absolutely astounding. A post asking a legit writing question goes virtually ignored while the medical advice brings on all comers. And again, professional writers loop.
::facepalms::
Allyson, if you still need a pair of eyes, shoot it to me. Oh, what am I saying, I want to read it anyway, if it's okay with you.
And Barb, that's appalling. But somehow I'm not surprised.
