Rules: So, with this blogfest, as a writer you have the opportunity to let rip with a twisted fairy tale! How you kidnap the Seven Dwarves, turn Cinderella into a vampire, blow up Aladdin's Cave, shoot the fairy off the Christmas tree, or assassinate Santa, is entirely up to you.
All genre catered for - preferably 700 word count, no more than 1,000 tops!
Winter Flake and the Seven Bums:Mrs. Flake, a.k.a. my stepmother, arrived in her new, LX 11 Lexus. She’d bought it a week after my father’s funeral. She always picked me up from my volunteer job at the Adams County Animal shelter.
At home, I noticed the lovely Oleander flowers on the table. My step mom loved to decorate.
“Winter, eat your soup, I made it especially for you,” Step Mom said.
“Okay.” I slurped some up. “I danced with the new dogs today and sang to the cats. A snake curled into a ball for me and I sucked up a spider web in the hall with the vacuum.”
“That’s just lovely Winter, now finish your soup.”
I did and began to notice that my mouth burned. Then my stomach churned and now my heart decided to run a marathon without the use of my legs. I began to perspire and hit the floor. When I woke, I was in the hospital and a clear plastic oxygen tent covered me. Seven of my friends surrounded me, but my step mom was no where to be seen.
A cop entered my room. “Hello,” she said. “I am Officer Suspicious. I’d like to ask you some questions, Winter.”
“Sure,” I said. “But where’s my step mom? She must be worried about me.”
“Actually, my questions are about your stepmother. Did you know she had a plastic surgeon she’d been consulting?”
“Yeah, she wants to remove some ugly warts from her face.”
“Mrs. Flake is obsessed with beauty,” Officer Suspicious said. “Every room in your home, except your bedroom, has seven mirrors.”
“Yeah, she’s a little weird that way.”
“Winter, were you aware that your stepmother, Mrs. Flake, has a $500,000 life insurance policy out on you?”
This was news.
“Are you also aware that you were poisoned with oleander? Fortunately, the dose was somewhat weak.” Officer Suspicious said.
That was when my doctor came in.
“Hello
, Ms. Winter.” He smiled and showed brilliant white teeth. I was temporarily blinded.“I’m Doctor Al Twat. I am pleased to tell you that you will have a full recovery.”
“Why am I under an oxygen tank? Isn’t it a little antiquated?” I asked.
“Yes, well, you needed the oxygen and for the rest, budget cuts.” Doctor Al Twat said.
Officer Suspicious stepped in front of Twat. “Do you want to press charges?” she asked.
My seven friends chimed in. “Yes…you’d better…don’t be nice…lock her up…”
Well, you get the idea. They were pissed. I began to wonder if my dad had been poisoned too. So in honor of his memory I cheerfully said, “yes.”
Two years later, I now have my own Lexus, but it is in my husband’s name, Doctor Al Twat. Yes, I married and changed my name from Flake to Twat. A positive transition. Mrs. Flake, my stepmother, is serving a life sentence and provides beauty tips to the other prisoners. She still has seven mirrors, but they are all the hand held variety so her makeovers can be viewed by her victims, I mean, fellow inmates.
I still volunteer at the Adams County Animal shelter, I mean, where else can I dance and sing for a captured audience?
Today, I left my volunteer job, and whistled as I drove my Lexus onto the highway headed home. The engine gunned, the breaks only made it go faster, and soon I zoomed by seven semi-trailers and…
“Mrs. Al Twat,” Officer Suspicious said, on the other side of my hospital bed.
I was groggy, and bandaged. “Did I have a car accident?”
She ignored my question.
“Mrs. Al Twat, did you know your husband, Doctor Al Twat, had a one million dollar life insurance policy out on you?”
It’s been twenty years. No one x-rayed my hips after the car accident until now. They are pushed into my pelvis and that is why it is agony to stand and walk. The doctors recommend surgery. I’m not sure I can trust them. My seven friends took me in, but they all lost their jobs in the economic downturn. Now I have to clean, pick-up their dirty underwear and cook.
Agony burns my lower back while I stand in the kitchen preparing Oleander soup. One million per bum sounded nice when I filled out the life insurance papers. Yes, I’ve learned a few things. Singing to animals isn’t what it’s cracked up to be and I’m sick of grumpy, sloppy, o
ld men with a bad attitude.The pain makes my legs go numb. I slip…then fall. “Ahh…”
“Quiet,” Bad Mouth called, “We’re trying to watch Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. It’s our favorite.”
Credit: Free photos from acobox.com
http://www.appleanimation.com/
Sorry, I did not intend to offend any one with the word twat. I was going for something that sounded like "all that" to my American ears. I should have looked up the word I used. I didn't even know it was a real word. I hope you forgive me. Nancy
