This week, as I have a bit of a hectic schedule, I’m
reaching into the vault for some stories I penned for a now defunct writing
group. Here’s a group of some cinema inspired drabbles…
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre Golf Club
“Badgers, we ain’t got no stinkin’ badgers!”
I blinked. The lying left-handed weasel! “But you’re a
badger!”
“Nope, I’m an armadillo.”
“Wrong. You’re a badger who’s been digging holes on the golf
course. Why?”
“I’m a vegetarian, looking for mushrooms.”
This conversation was madness. “Liar! You were looking for the treasure!”
“Maybe I am.”
“I know where it is and I’ll tell you for a share and an
answer to my question.”
“What question?”
“Why are you wearing sunglasses?”
“Oh, that. They keep the dirt out of my eyes when I
dig. Now where’s the treasure?”
“Under the caddy’s shack.”
Little Garden of Horrors
What was I thinking? Why did I snoop around the Westland
Botanical Gardens in the wee hours trying to discover about the noises and
lights? I wouldn't be in this mess if I’d stayed at home.
I just had to be a hero, and check it out, but how was I to
know? I figured it was kids, or vandals,
or maybe somebody growing an illegal plant or two. I never thought it would be
that nerd neighbour of mine, Seymour, growing some mutant, flesh eating plant!
And if I don’t loosen these ropes I’m going to be plant
food!
A Wrong Turn
One wrong turn in Albuquerque and I found myself at some
nutty Spring Break party. With a drooling twenty-something breathing alcohol fumes
in my face. I turned away, feeling shaky.
“You’re Shirley, right? The gal my buds set me up with?”
“Afraid not. I’m just here by accident. You’d better take
off.”
“Nah, you’re Shirley, I know you are.”
This guy was asking for it. “Listen, idiot. I’m not Shirley. I am, however, an annoyed
and hungry vampire who’d love to make
you my next meal.”
“Ha, ha. Real funny joke, Shirley.”
"I am serious. And don't call me Shirley."
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