Writer’s Workshop — He Loves Me Too Much

For his Writer’s Workshop this week, John Holton gives us six writing prompts and we are tasked with choosing one of the prompts (or as many as we want) and writing a post that addresses that (or those) prompts). I chose two prompts for this week: (1) Use the word “nerve,” and (2) Write a post in exactly 9 sentences.

“Do you believe you can be too in love with someone?” Emily asked her BFF, Andrea.

“No, you either love someone or you don’t,” Andrea said. “Telling someone that you love them too much is like saying that you’re a little bit pregnant. You either are pregnant or you’re not.”

“Tom told me he’s breaking up with me because he loves me too much,” Emily said, her eyes welling up with tears.

“That’s complete and utter bullshit,” Andrea said. “He’s just saying that so you won’t be angry at him for dumping you.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Andrea, talking about my boyfriend like that,” Emily said.

“Well, you’ve got a lot of nerve, Emily, to ask me, your best friend, a question and then get pissed at me because you don’t like my answer,” Andrea said and turned around and walked away.


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Image credit: WordPress AI.

SoCS — School Girl Crush

Speaking on the phone to her BFF, Elaine excitedly said, “I met a new guy. He’s in my homeroom and he’s so dreamy. He saw me gazing at him and he smiled back at me and I knew. I just instantly knew.”

“You knew? What did you know?” Megan asked her best friend.

“I knew that he and I are going to be girlfriend-boyfriend, silly,” Elaine said.

“How did you know that?” Megan asked. “Did you talk with him? Does he even know your name?”

“No, not yet,” Elaine admitted, “but I saw how he smiled at me when he saw me staring at him.”

“Yeah, Elaine, it was probably a nervous smile,” Megan said. “You probably freaked him out.”

“No, you’re wrong, Megan,” Elaine said. “You’re just jealous that I met the new boy before you did.”

“I’m not jealous, Elaine. But you haven’t even talked with him yet, so how can you be so sure he’s going to want to be your new boyfriend?”

“I knew you’d react this way, Megan,” Elaine said. “Why do you always have to be such a bitch? You are no longer my best friend. I hate you!” Elaine abruptly ended the call.

Megan sighed. What else is new? she thought.


Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, where the challenge is to use the words “new” and/or “knew.”

Three Line Tales — Falling Behind

12B6B358-D1FA-4E31-89F8-A0CADD8EDAE7The two women, lifelong best friends, were standing behind the large clock on the mezzanine level of the railway station when Beverly saw tears welling up in her BFF’s eyes.

“Annie, sweetie,” Beverly said, reaching out and grabbing her friend’s hand. “What is the matter, honey?”

Annie sighed. “Standing here, Beverly, I just feel like life is passing us by and we are falling so far behind the times.”


Written for Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt. Photo credit: Stijn te Strake via Unsplash

Thank You Vladimir

I can’t believe this happened. I think we have entered the Twilight Zone.

Donald Trump thanked Russian President Vladimir Putin today for expelling American diplomats from the Russian embassy on the grounds that “we’re going to save a lot of money.”

“I want to thank him because we’re trying to cut down our payroll, and as far as I’m concerned I’m very thankful that he let go of a large number of people because now we have a smaller payroll,” Trump told reporters at his golf club in Bedminster, New Jersey.

“There’s no real reason for them to go back,” he added. “I greatly appreciate the fact that we’ve been able to cut our payroll of the United States. We’re going to save a lot of money.”

This is just too bizarre to comprehend. Trump has apparently vested to his BFF Vladimir Putin the responsibility to set staffing levels for the United States Department of State.

And where the hell is Secretary of State Rex Tillerson? His silence is deafening.

Well, I guess this proves who’s actually calling the shots in America these days. Yep, you got him, Vladimir.

Sad.