Saturday, December 17, 2011

Three Blind Muse: Blond Sausage Chandelier

Well, its the time of week you've all been waiting for: Three Blind Muse. This week we did, as the title suggests, Blond Sausage Chandelier. Amazing triplet indeed.

But before we go ahead, we need to tally the scores from last week.


After hours and hours of counting (and some debate over a hanging chad), a winner has been declared. By a vote of 1 - 0, Last week's winner was Precious Cargo by Christina H. Davis. Great story.

Thanks, single reader. The rest of you should be ashamed. Consuming content without paying, either with money or feedback. You're worse then 95% of NPR listeners (it's OK, I'm a supporting member now). Don't you know that they need money to run the radio, and Robert Siegel needs to be fed not once, not twice, but three times a day. And don't you know that every vote you cast in Three Blind Muse inflates our already swollen egos. We need this external affirmation of our literary worth. Not to mention the influence this has on the interpersonal nuances of our marriage. This is a contest, and with all contests that arise in a marriage, it's a constant moral struggle for superiority. We need you to chime in and help us decide once and for all which one of us is right.

Can you do that for us?

Lumberjack Slam

Jonathan awoke to see the Swarovski crystal chandelier hanging over his head in the foyer of his Beverly Hills mansion.

How much had that chandelier cost? he wondered. Before he could answer that question, he became aware of the pain in his lower back that was likely from the fact that he had slept on the tile floor.

What time is it?

He reached for his iPhone. Before he found it, his hand grazed something squishy. He sat up in disgust and looked over to find a half-cooked sausage link.

What the?

He glanced over to the left and saw the lone sausage’s mate as well as a pancake. Pieces of egg white appeared to be on his bare foot while smeared yoke was streaked across the floor.

As Jonathan ran a confused hand through his blonde curls he heard the light patter of feet coming down the carpeted stairs.

“There you are!” a woman’s voice gasped. “You said you were hungry and then you never came back. I was worried something had happened to you!”

Something had happened to Jonathan, of course. Exactly what hadn’t become clear – yet.



Minding My Business

“It’s a Blond Ale.”

“A what?”
“A Blond Ale.” This guy’s slow. Go away.
“What’s Blond Ale?”
“It’s a light colored beer.” I’m really just trying to eat my dinner. Shouldn’t have sat at the bar. Shouldn’t have come to the hotel bar for dinner. Shouldn’t have come to this convention. Omaha.
“Why don’t they just say Light Beer?”
“I don’t know.” Why don’t they call a sausage a meat tube? Go vomit your words at the table of inebriated suits under the gaudy lobby chandelier. I’m sure they have interesting business stories to tell about exotic convention locations and ladies they procured on the company card and Johnson’s resulting herpes. ROI, STD, Blah, Blah, Blah.
“Do you work in the food industry?”
“Yes, sausage company in Plattsmouth”. You’ve never even heard of us, so don’t ask.
“What’s the name?”
“Casing Foods. We brand name and wholesale.” How many sausage factories are there in Plattsmouth?
“I’m in Grains. Bulk for processing”
“Sounds nice” Just shut up and go away. My food is getting cold.
“Anyway, I have to meet my little “light beer” haired date out front. Going to see a show.”
“Have fun.” I hope you get an STD. 


So, what do you think? Is there a clear winner this week? Use the comment section below or send an email to rcdavis3rd@gmail.com to enter your vote for this week's Three Blind Muse winner. We'll announce the winner next week.



 
The three words for next week's contest are:


Slippery Coronation Coat


Easy Peasy Lemon Squeazy.



We'll be putting our stories together here at Ashford Living.
And if you want to be a guest writer, send your story to me, rcdavis3rd@gmail.com
Remember to follow the rules. If you do, we'd be more than happy to have you in the show!

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