Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Three Word Wednesday

At the prodding (wheedling, cajoling, borderline nagging) tone of my new writer friend Thom Gabrukiewicz, I have tried my hand at Three Word Wednesday. Briefly, Thom provides three words and anyone who is up to the challenge incorporates those three words into a cohesive story, posts it on a blog, and then sends a link in the comments section @ http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/

November 4th's words: Karma, Obey and Wither.

Here goes:

Turn Around, Tadpole!

"Prettyprettyprettypretty pul-eeze? Show mommy how you can be a daddy." She stopped to pretend to suck her thumb. "Mummy wuvs her sweet-ums."

Alton hated it when she talked baby talk. "Forever" was indeed a very long time, and becoming longer, exponentially so, with each passing month. He didn't get those men that said their wives bloomed during pregnancy, became glowing, sensuous goddesses. All he saw when he stared at Brittany's swelling belly was a manatee. That tadpole of his, the one he learned existed during junior high school sex-ed class, that one out of a million that waited those fourteen years since junior high to obey the laws of procreation; it probably high-fived all the other tadpoles before the mighty swoosh!—before it swam against the odds and left its flagellating buddies in the dust to impregnate that insidious egg. His tadpole fulfilled its karma and helped form the seahorse-image in the first ultrasound, which then grew into an alien-headed frog, metamorphosed into a… didn't matter what it looked like; all he knew was what it transformed his petite, feminine, sexy wife into a lumbering, sea cow. A sea cow that barked baby talk.

"Altee, Altee, cock's-in-free!"

Didn’t she understand that tone made his dick wither rather than grow? Alton focused on her pouting lips and tried to ignore her pendulous breasts; her once delicate fingers, swollen into Vienna sausages, stroking her distended stomach. He refused to let his stare wander to the foot of the bed where her cankles rested. Alton bit his lips, his physical effort to check his mental disgust. Brittany smiled.

"Aw, you're so sweet! You won't hurt me. It's karma, me getting pregnant. Us Winslows, we're fertile and we're from sturdy stock. My Grammy had fourteen children! Yessirree, fourteen pregnancies. Imagine that?"

8 comments:

PS : De-abbreviate as you like ;) said...

you do write awesome !! glad to read you :) keep posting :)

ThomG said...

This is fantastic. I mean, just a great piece of writing, of life. I'm so glad I was able to beat you into sumbission.

Radio Nowhere said...

I don't think I like Alton very much at all.

Your depiction of his was well done. I am also glad that Thom was able to coerce you into writing something for 3WW....

http://radio-nowhere.org/nb/?p=282

gautami tripathy said...

Good to find you. I look forward to read more from you.

flames of karma

quin browne said...

let me echo your comment to me:

AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!


i loved every word.

Tumblewords: said...

Terrific - I think I've known them both! Great character follow through. I'm looking forward to reading more of your posts.

lissa said...

a dose of reality, that's what comes to mind when I read this. poor Alton he might end up with 14 kids...

mardeen said...

I don't like Alton or Brittany. GOOD JOB!

Seriously, this was a great little read.