Round Ten is gonna be a mother!

[Tricia]

No really... mother is one of the words!

Hot damn we're gonna have some fun now!

Derek and I got to pick the words...
mine are better... heheh

So here goes:

cake
family
booth
stick
tired
mother
cloudy
hurtful
intoxicated
surrender

If you don't like the words... Derek picked them.


No theme!!!!!!!!!

Stories must be in by THURSDAY NIGHT! or the forum police will come after your asses (Barrie and Heather) and believe me, you don't want the forum popo anywhere near your ass!

Go... write... bring happiness to children all over the world, you fricking freaks!!!

[barrie]

As fun as it might be to make The Forum Police chase me down (& tie me up? she asks hopefully) I promise that I will not make you beat me with a stick (but not in a hurtful way of course!)until I surrender!

I will see you on Thursday with story in hand

[smalls]

mm i like these words.. i shall work on mine soon.. not tonight.. i cant keep my neck up (too much moshing)

[Angi]

Ok, my first story, please be nice to me, I tried. Not well, but hey, first times aren't meant to be good, just to get the pain out of the way.


cake -
family-
booth-
stick-
tired-
mother -
cloudy
hurtful -
intoxicated
surrender-

"I surrender" she screamed at all the party go-ers. Sue Ellen was sick and tired of all the junk her family insisted on pulling.

Over in the corner her brother was so TEXT, he didn't have a clue he had plopped his fat butt down in a piece of cake, and didn't seem to notice the cloudy haze that hung over his head. What was that smell anyhow?

The mother of all birthday parties was turning into the most hurtful of all roasts. Sue Ellen's ex husband was in the phone booth on the corner trying to stick a half dollar in the little slot to make a booty call. Figures, he'd made the same stupid drunk calls while they were married. No reason to change now. She was just glad he was leaving.

Her cousin Fawny May was hanging all over Sue Ellen's drunk brother. I guess she could get past the smell.

What she wouldn't give for just one normal family member. Just one. Instead of drunks, druggies, and ho's. k, my first story, please be nice to me. I tried.

[angi]

told ya I was a virgin at this,

the red TEXT is supposed to read

Intoxicated.

[apastorslife]

JamesK1

“Fine! I’ll go… but I’m not making anything. If you want a homemade cake you’ll be making it yourself. I’m not dealing with your mom’s ‘I wish my son had picked better’ passive-aggressive crap.”<br>
“Oh, my God! Oh, my freakin’ God! We see my family, what… once a year? We’re at your folk’s house every freakin’ weekend! Do I complain? Do you hear me crapping about the left over spaghetti that your mother serves us every stinkin’ Sunday?! When she signed me up to work that booth at that stupid... carnival… thing… whatever that stupid church party deal was… did I pitch a fit? Did I sit around and act like someone was asking for the flippin’ world? And don’t sit there like you’re doing me some sort of gracious favor. You owe me!”<br>
“Are you done? Because… No. You know what? I’m sorry. I’m tired… I’m PMSing… I’ve had a hard day… I surrender. I’ll go, and I’ll try to be happy about it, but it won’t be tonight.”<br>
“Whoa. Now I feel like a complete moron. Here I was expecting the ‘wrath of Sheila’… a barrage of the most hurtful things you could say and you go sweet?”<br>
“I’m not in the mood to fight and you were right… which isn’t very often… and I do owe you.”<br>
“So what set you off about the trip anyways? I thought you were cool with everything.”<br>
“I don’t know… Earlier when you said that thing about the biscuits your mom made I took it like you were comparing them to mine and I assumed that you thought hers were better and…”

“Sweetheart! I only mentioned them because yours were so much better. Freak! My mom’s looked and tasted like she cooked them over a campfire like a marshmallow on a freakin’ stick! They looked like some kinda jacked up donut. You couldn’t even put butter on um 'cause it'd fall through the middle! It was like some sort of white-trash bagel! No babe, I’d never think that hers is better than…”

“I know. I know. It’s just that my dad always pulled that mess on my mom and I swore I’d never put up with it. She busted her butt for him and it was never enough… never good enough. Nanna would come over and actually clean my mom’s kitchen! Mom’d be furious but dad never stopped her. He probably thought it needed it. Just anything that smacks of that gets me all freaked.”<br>
“I know… Oh crap! Not to change the subject, but did you take the movie back to the store?”<br>
“No! What time is it?”<br>
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take it back tomorrow. We’ve got like five minutes.”<br>
“I’m not paying a late fee on a movie that stupid. Come on, I’ll go with you.”<br>
“Now see, I liked it. What was stupid?”<br>
“It scared the crap out of me! I woke up in the middle of the night all freaked and you weren’t there.”<br>
“But there were funny parts… That chick was like, ‘Are you drunk?’ and he goes, ‘I prefer intoxicated.” I was dying!”<br>
“. . . .”<br>
“It was funny!”<br>
“Hold on, let me get my umbrella. It’s cloudy out… oh wait! It’s in the car. Let’s go.”<br>
“So you’re okay? We’re okay?”<br>
“. . . .”<br>
“Babe?”<br>
“You’re mom made her biscuits on a stick? I’m telling her you said that!”<br>
“Babe!”<br>

**********************
I'm new. I read the rules. I don' t know when or where to post... so here's what you get. I love the idea and would love to have more info if I need it. Thanks, James.

[Heather]

HB1
It was a CLOUDY morning, a perfect day for this. Dusti knocked on the door then leaned seductively against the porch railing as she waited for an answer. She knew Fred Hallings was home; he had an appointment, one not to be missed. Not that he knew it, though...Fred wouldn't know about it until he opened the door. Kind of sad, Dusti thought, looking around. Fred had a nice house, nice FAMILY, nice car...aw, who was she kidding? A sweet ride was what Fred had: a brand spanking new candy apple red Mustang all tricked out and begging to be driven hard and fast. If she knew she could get away with it, she would trade the opportunity of driving that car for -

"Yes, May I help you?" Fred Hallings poked his head out the front door with a cautious grin. Dusti smiled her most enchanting smile and pulled herself up to her full height. Without the stiletto-heeled black boots, she was six feet tall; the heels added six inches and intimidation, although she doubted she would need that with Fred. He was looking her over in a most appreciative way. She wasn't surprised...most men she came in contact with were INTOXICATED by her appearance.

"Fred Hallings?"

"Yes."

"Hi, I'm Dusti Grimm and we have an appointment." Fred's blue eyes, hidden behind glasses, clouded with confusion. He ran a steady hand through his thick graying hair and smiled wider.

"I'm afraid you must be mistaken, Miss Grimm. Today's the day I play golf with the boys. In fact, I have to be leaving soon in order to make the tee time. Gotta knock the ol' ball around with the STICK, if you know what I mean." From the waggling of his eyebrows, Dusti thought she did know what he meant. If only that offer came with the keys to that car...

"No golf today, Freddy-boy," Dusti said, clicking her tongue in mock disappointment at the fact that he wouldn't be eating that slice of after-game CAKE in his regular BOOTH at Killigan's Bar & Grill. "In fact, you're about due for your first and only heart attack."

"Excuse me?" Dusti stepped forward and gripped Fred's arm with a surprisingly firm hold. From the involuntary gasp that escaped his lips, Dusti realized that her workouts had paid off. The pressure of her long black fingernails on his skin didn't hurt either.

"C'mere, Freddy," she ordered, ushering him back inside his house.

"Now see here!" Fred started to protest then stopped cold at the sight that awaited him in the hallway. He saw himself lying on the floor, his hand clenched to his chest, the dial tone of the dropped phone buzzing away. "What...what is this? Who are you?"

"I'm Death. Duh."

"You can't be Death," Freddy argued. "Death is a guy in a long hooded robe who carries a scythe." Dusti's argument was stopped before it began by the doorbell. Fred automatically looked towards the still-open door and said, "THAT'S Death!"

"Ohhhh...." Dusti groaned as she turned to see that Fred wasn't lying. Death himself was standing on the porch in all his glory: flowing black robes, gleaming scythe in one skeletal hand, an hourglass in the other, the sand perilously running out. "Dad! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take over, Dusti. I told you you were not to wear that ridiculous outfit while gathering souls!" She looked down at her black leather boustier with a silver scythe pin on the left strap and skin tight black jeans tucked into the boots. "You didn't even bring the hourglass! Your MOTHER told you about that..."

"Dad," Dusti whined, very conscious of Fred Hallings watching the event like it was a tennis match, "I got this cool hourglass necklace, see? It's way better than lugging that big old thing around!"

"And, young lady, how dare you even think about trading his life for a ride in that car." Death sighed heavily, the edges of his hood billowing from his breath. "If you don't stop disobeying me, you can't help out with the gathering anymore, do you understand me?"

"Yes...but..." Dusti turned to face Fred. "C'mon, seriously, who would you rather be harvested by? A hot young chick or some old grump in a robe?" Fred smiled but before he could answer, Death cut him off with a wave of the hourglass. The sand was gone and the timer disappeared.

"I'm TIRED of arguing with you, Dusti," Death said firmly. "And don't give me that look. Nothing I said was HURTFUL to you." The girl sighed and released Fred's arm, SURRENDERING it to her father. "Do you have kids, Mr. Hallings," he asked as the world started to fade away.

"Yes, 2." Death nodded.

"Then you know..."

[barrie]

Damn! I go away for a few weeks and BOOM you all get even MORE awesome and bring in all these new awesome writers!

Heather, that is.just.brilliant! I LOVE it! Laughed out loud!

Welcome Angi

[guest]

DS1

Where is your life going
When you make your mother cry
Where is you life going
When you would rather just die
When you just want to surrender to the pains
Stick the pin further in
To keep you alive
Hurtful self-inflictions
Pleasurable sensations
Where are you going
Walking around on cloudy days
Avoiding the rays of sun
Pick the mould off the cake
Throw away the icing
Where do you plan on going
After you build up your walls
Locking your family[/u] out
Concealed in your booth of shame and lies
Where are you going
When you are too tired to walk
Where are you going
When you are so intoxicated
Only trying to hide
Caught up in your own lies
Your own world
Where are you going
When you’re lying in that puddle
Of self-inflicted miseries

[Chaos]

OK, I'm another first-poster...take it easy on me, but do offer constructive criticism. I can take it, I promise! ;D

Angela

AD1
Amanda Bryson-Charles sighed as she dropped the day’s mail onto the kitchen table. She’d recognized her Aunt Gloria’s handwriting on one of the envelopes and wished fervently that she could ignore it. However, Amanda knew that to ignore that envelope would only prompt a telephone call from her aunt; and if Amanda dared to ignore THAT, Gloria would soon be at her front door. Since Amanda was willing to do nearly anything to avoid being verbally assaulted by her aunt, whether in person or by phone, she opened the cream-colored envelope addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Shane Charles.

Inside was a very innocuous-looking piece of parchment paper, but Amanda knew that appearances were often deceiving. She uneasily pulled the parchment from the envelope and read:

THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE 2ND ANNUAL BRYSON FAMILY REUNION!!!

We’re gathering the clan this year at Sweetwater Lake State Park, located in Clancy, Mississippi.

Come one, come all – Bring your mother, your father, your sister, and your brother! Come party with us on July 19th from 10:00 am until we’re either too tired or too intoxicated to party anymore!

Blue sky or cloudy, calm or windy, there will be something for everyone: fishing, swimming, softball and paintball; a face-painting booth, carnival games, and pony rides are just a few of the activities planned for your pleasure!

There will be PLENTY of food and drink available – the grills will burn all day, producing delicious hamburgers, hotdogs, and veggies-on-a-stick, and Alyssa’s even got a cake-walk planned!

So make your plans and get down to Mississippi on July 19th – We’ll see you there!

“Yeah,” Amanda thought resentfully, “see you there, Gloria. How much worse could it be than last year’s joyous debacle, right?” She remembered all too well the events of the Bryson Family's First Annual Reunion. It began peacefully enough, but tempers quickly rose in direct relation to the amount of booze consumed until, by sundown, the reunion had transformed itself into the First Annual Bryson Family Brawl, complete with family members hurling food, hurtful accusations and insults, and then finally fists and feet at each other.

At that moment, Amanda was startled out of her musings by the insistent tone of her cell phone ringing. Recognizing her mother’s number on the unit’s caller ID display, Amanda answered hesitantly, “Hello?”<br>
“Amanda, it’s Mom,” Lynda Bryson announced stridently. “Did you get Gloria’s invitation today?”<br>
“Well, yes…but, mom,” Amanda’s voice trailed off as her mother interrupted her.

“Oh, no, Amanda Lynn Bryson – NO! Don’t you dare start giving me excuses why you can’t come to the reunion,” Lynda exploded; having already anticipated Amanda’s reaction to the invitation, she’d had time to plan her attack strategy well before she ever picked up the phone. “If nothing else, Amanda, you could at least think of your grandparents! They’re not going to live forever, you know! How will you feel if you don’t come down for this reunion and then they pass away? You’ll just end up having to come home anyway, for a funeral!” Lynda ranted, frustrated over her daughter’s unwillingness to return home for even the briefest of visits. Of course, in Lynda’s opinion, that was entirely because of that hoity-toity, nose-in-the-air Shane Charles. It still rankled that Amanda had married him and moved off to Boston to live like some kind of High Society lady…as if all that made her too good to ever come back to the doublewide in Mississippi that she was raised in!

“OK, OK, mom…don’t start in on me,” Amanda gave in to her mother’s will; she knew from experience just how well Lynda could play that guilt-trip game. “You win; Shane and I will be there. All right? We’ll be there.”<br>
The satisfaction at her daughter’s surrender was clear in Lynda’s voice as she replied, “Oh, great, honey! Daddy and I just can’t wait to see you two! You can stay with us; Grant’s old room is empty now, so you can sleep there…”

Her mother’s voice droned on, but Amanda didn’t hear the words as she blindly rose and went to the wall calendar to circle July 19th.

[Chaos]

I guess I'm not really submitting this, but I thought it was post-worthy, at the very least. I gave a couple of creative friends at work the list of words we have to work with and told them to create a story using those words. They asked, "Does it have to be a story, or can it be a poem?" and "Can it be silly?"

I answered, "It can be a poem, yes, and as long as it makes some sort of sense, it can be silly, too. Have fun, ladies!"

{As a sidenote, I should also mention that they did not know what my story was going to be...honestly! This is what they came up with, totally independent of my submission!}

So, thanks to Sarah and Bonnie:

AD2
To a family gathering I went;
With me a spiked cake was sent.
It was a rather cloudy day;
We were all tired and intoxicated, I must say.
My sister stood in the corner booth,
Laughing at my aunt,
Who was missing a tooth.
My mother was singing, "I surrender all!"
While being chased with a stick by my Uncle Paul.
All of this was hurtful to my reputation,
However, I'm ready for another family gathering,
Without hesitation!

[Ren]

Please be gentle, this is my first time...

Oh, wait, wrong place! He, he, he

My story sounds dark, sorry if it's a downer but how else can you use the words mother and intoxicated in the same story?

RC1

=================================

The sun didn’t shine. The forecast had been threatening rain, so my dad convinced mom to move my birthday party into the McDonald’s down the street. It would be easier to let everyone cram into the corner booth there than pull out all the lawn chairs, he told her.

I blew out all nine candles on my birthday cake in one huge breath. I rule the day, I will get my wish. Every other girl in the world who turned nine years old wished for ponies. Barbies. Puppies. I wished for a new mommy.

As my mom, she prefers us to call her mother, came to take my cake away and cut it for all my friends and family, she stumbled a little. She was drunk. Daddy used nice words like “ill” or “tired” but she was drunk. Smashed. Intoxicated. Inebriated. Say it in any flowery terms, it is all the same thing, embarrassing.

Even now, twenty years later, cloudy days still remind me of that birthday. When I finally surrendered to the hurtful realization that my mom would always be my mom.

And my mom would stick to what she knew best, being a drunk.

[jenn]

js1
Emma was in the kitchen, she always seemed to be in the kitchen these days, a fate she had never imagined for herself. She had been such a wild and carefree girl, vowing never to have a family that would tie her down. She was going to act on Broadway, in all those plays she had loved as a child. She added the stick of butter to the cake, and pondered away the moments before Lanie and Luke got home from school, it was cloudy, and she hoped it would not rain before they got home. Emma loved her children, but she was no longer that carefree girl of the past; really, she did not know who she was anymore, but she wanted to be so much more than the wife and mother she had become. She was too young to let life slip by her, but these days she was to tired to fight for her life back. Emma stirred the cake mix, poured it into the pan and placed it in the oven, as she thought back to how she had come to this point in life.

Emma remembered the night she got pregnant with the twins. She had always been careful, not wanting to end up a young mother, but that night she had a fight with Ben, her boyfriend at the time. She had signed up for the spring carnivals kissing booth, at the request of her drama teacher, and Ben was upset. She could still remember the hurtful words he had screamed at her, “You are nothing but a slut.” Ben was someone she thought she loved, and having those words thrown at her from him of all people tore a part of her soul away. Emma went to the carnival and did her work in the kissing booth, it was harmless really it was a school function after all, and it was really just sweet little pecks, there were no passionate, wet, drawn out, tongue kisses, that was until Jon came along. He was one of the jocks she never talked to, but she knew who he was, everyone knew who he was. It was not that she would not have talked to him; they just ran in different crowds.

He handed her his two dollars, Emma puckered up and he stole her breath away. The feel of those soft lips against hers, and his tongue probing to gain entrance, to dance with hers, as she parted her lips just a little to allow his tongue to stroke the tip of hers. She had never been lost in a kiss before, but she was lost in his, at least until Mrs. Johnson cut in to break it up.

“What time are you done here?” he quizzed.
“In about half and hour.” she stammered.
“Met me in the parking lot?” it was more of a question than a statement really.
“Sure.”<br>
Emma finished her duties, and hurried off to meet Jon, who was waiting by his car with a group of his buddies. She started to dodge him and go on home, but he had already spotted her, and was walking toward her.

“I didn’t know if you would really come.” He looked at her with his big brown eyes.
“Why would you think that?” Emma asked.
“Well I have had a crush on you since our freshman year, and you have never even spared me a glance.” He stated.
“What? No you have not, quit teasing me.” His remark startled her.
“I have, Emma Parker, been in love with you from the first moment I saw you.” He was very serious. Emma did not know what to think about his declaration, as he went on. “I heard you and your boyfriend broke up and thought I would take a chance.”<br>“Oh really? Well let me first inform you that I am not some easy lay, that you can screw and then go brag to your friends about. So if that is what you have in mind you can just forget it.” She knew the rumors about her, and she thought that was the reason he had come on to her.

“No really Emma, I want a chance to get to know you, and spend some time with you. That is all I am after.” He sounded honest.

“Well ok then.” She smiled still not really believing him, but she thought of that kiss, so filled with passion and decided to take a chance herself.

Jon smiled back as he asked her if she wanted to go for a ride. Emma accepted and they started walking to his car. He opened the door for her, and she got in, reached over, and unlocked his door. They drove around and talked awhile and she found they really had a lot in common, much more than she would have ever dreamed. They soon ended up parking in a secluded area out by the river, they talked some more, and then he leaned over and kissed her again. She was intoxicated by is his kiss, she longed to feel his hands moving over her body, and yearned for his mouth to move to that forbidden place hidden under her jeans. His kiss alone promised of pleasures beyond her young minds desire. His hands did start exploring leaving a trail of fire everywhere they touched her.

He expertly reached behind her and undid her bra, slowly he made his way to her breast, he took her nipple and slowly rolled it between his thumb and finger, and she let out a throaty moan muffled by his mouth on hers. He moved to the buttons on her Levi’s, and without ever releasing her mouth, he had her pants cast aside. His fingers moved from her nipple down her stomach until he reached that spot that would bring her to the edge. He leisurely ran his finger down her folds, and her hips arched forward as she surrendered to his touch. She found exstacy with his hand, and then his mouth, and then he took his pleasure from her. It was a night she would never forget, for many reasons.

Jon was true to his word, he had not been looking for a quick lay, and the days following, they had become inseparable. A few days after graduation Jon came to Emma’s house to find her sitting on the porch in tears. He thought the University she wanted to attend denied her, and he sat down, put his arm around her, and started to tell her everything was going to be ok, as she handed him the home pregnancy test with those two dark lines indicating a positive. Jon stared down at it, took a deep breath not sure what to say. They sat holding each other for several minutes before either of them spoke.

“Emma marry me, we can make it. I love you so much and I will love our baby.”<br>
“Mom, we are home, where are you?”<br>
Emma smiled as the door slammed behind her twins. She did love her babies, and she loved their daddy too. She glided across the room and grabbed them in her arms, and understood that love was what it was all about, one day there would be a place for Emma, but right now, she belonged to Jon and her children, and they belonged to her.

[smalls]

geez jeen, way to go and kick all our asses..
guess ill have to bring out the big guns.. now.. wonder if the yellow pages has a section for that..

[Ranta Lot]

RA 10


It was a dark and rainy night. Thunder crashed outside, rattling all the doors and windows. In her upstairs bedroom, Meg huddled down under the covers ignoring as best she could the storm raging outside as she nibbled pieces of the black and white birthday CAKE her MOTHER had baked especially for her birthday.

Tears rolled down her face as she remembered the HURTFUL remarks her mother had made the entire party.

“What kind of teenager wants a black and white theme party?”<br>
“Black is so gothic. What’s wrong with this girl?” (Peals of laughter)

Her mother had poured glass after glass of red wine until her INTOXICATED slur had caused the rest of the guests to take a poll on who would put her to bed. Meg was sick and TIRED of her mother always getting drunk at FAMILY events.

“Ebooooony and Ivooooory,” sang her mother on her way to the bar to pour herself yet another glass.

By this time the guests had realized it wasn’t just silly remarks but that her mom was three STICKS to the wind. Meg SURRENDERED to the inevitable – again and again her mother had pulled this. This evening of her 18th birthday was no different. She got through the rest of the evening somehow and after all the guests left grabbed a piece of cake and headed upstairs, to her sanctuary, a place where Mother never ventured after drinking too much, to her beloved bedroom.

Huddled underneath the sheets, as if her bed was a huge tent, Meg finally threw off the covers and finished the last bite of the cake. As she walked down the hall to the stairs with the empty plate she wondered how to get her mother into recovery. “Perhaps I should just STICK her in the car and drive her to AA tomorrow,” Meg muttered to herself in disgust. She passed a mirror and looked at her red-rimmed eyes. Had she cried that long? Was it really that bad?

She had. It was.

Meg put the plate in the sink and made her way back upstairs and covered her head with her pillow. It drowned out the rain and the thunder and within no time, she was sleeping, fitfully, tossing and turning.

In the morning her mouth was dry and cracked. She made her way downstairs to the only bathroom in the house. As she passed the the living room she saw her mother sitting, head in hands, ashen, shaking with sobs.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”<br>
“I just got a call. Uncle Bob was sitting in a diner, in the last BOOTH near the back of the store. Two kids came in and robbed the place. Bob only had a $20. They shot him. Aunt Jenny just called. He’s dead.”<br>
Meg sank down on the floor. All thoughts of getting her mom into recovery was shuffled into the back of her mind. She decided that the best thing to do on this CLOUDY and rainy day was to get things in order.

Because Uncle Bob was dead there would be no way to pay the rent. Since she was three and her dad had died of bone cance, her millionare Uncle had paid all the bills. But Aunt Jenny despised the both of them. There was now no way Meg knew they could depend on her.

Meg stood up. “Mom, it’s going to be fine. My job is almost enough to pay for this house. If you could just stop drinking long enough we might be able to make it. Can you do that for me, for us?”<br>
Meg’s mother nodded her head. Tears streamed down her face. “Uncle Bob would be so proud of you. Yes, I will try. Somehow I will try.”<br>
THE END