Hey, everybody! It’s time to get your quote selected. Get your creativity groove revved up so you can come up with a creative story, poem, or whatever else you would like to share about your quote. Remember, we have a week, so there is no great hurry! Take your time and just have fun!
Ronovan is in charge this week and he chose the theme of “COMEDY”
Please make sure to link to Ronovan’s post HERE. He also explains how to follow the challenge and gives us a link-back to last week’s post so you can see how creative everyone else was. In addition, Ronovan and I share your posts on social media for added exposure! Thanks for joining us.
I hope you will find the time to visit the blogs who participated last week for the theme of STRENGTH. This is a great way to meet some new bloggers and to read some amazing writing!
Here’s who joined us last week for our theme of “STRENGTH” (I love it when the pingbacks work)
There was no denying Bob was having a restless night. He tossed and turned as if it was impossible to find a comfortable place in his bed. He swore there were lumps where there had never been lumps before. He threw the coverlet to the ground next to his side of the bed. The tangled sheets around his legs irritated him. He pulled at them tearing the top sheet from the bed. It fluttered to the floor in a pile near the coverlet. Petie, the family dog, lifted his head and cocked it to one side, wondering what his master’s problem could be this time.
His wife, Betty, rolled over and said, “Good grief, Bob. Settle down. I have work tomorrow.”
With a deep sigh, he rolled to the edge of the bed and swung his legs to the floor. He grabbed the sheet and placed it over his wife’s sleeping form. He watched her steady breathing, envious of how easily she could fall asleep. I wish I could sleep like that.
With a gentle motion, he slipped into the bed next to his wife. She never moved. Her blond hair splayed out covering the pillow. A soft snore escaped her lips.
Bob didn’t remember exactly when the dreams had begun, but the last six months had been hell. He had tried every home remedy there was. Over the counter sleeping pills made him snore. Chamomile tea did nothing for him other than to require him to get up to pee every hour. He tried reading and that made the dreams even more vivid. Counting sheep was a disaster, too.
It seemed that being unemployed had taken away everything from him, even his sense of humor. Now, it was affecting his sleep. He placed the book he had been reading on his nightstand and shut off the light.
In desperation, he rolled over and willed his eyes to close. His mind drifted. Soon, the sounds of his steady breathing signified he had fallen into a deep sleep.
Bob’s dream led him into a mist, so thick it was like pawing your way through cotton wool. The cloud dissipated and he found himself walking along a road lined with golden wheat fields on each side. The hot sun beat down on the undulating wheat shafts. “Where is this place?” he asked out loud.
An immediate response popped into his head. Kansas.
Kansas? Bob had never been to Kansas. He stood on the road pondering the complexity of his location. Far off in the distance, he heard the sound of raucous music playing. His feet moved forward, almost on their own accord, leading him toward the noise.
He walked for what seemed like miles. His steady pace brought him closer and closer toward the music. Finally, he spotted the source of the loud tunes. At the side of the road, right in the middle of the field was a Tiki bar like he had never seen before. The roof was covered with a thick layer of wheat shafts. Dried corn stalks were piled high on each side of the entrance into the bar. The polished wood floors contained a fine coating of sawdust that glistened in the light from a neon sign which flashed,” Karaoke,” in time to Bob’s rapid heart beat. What the…?
Bob stepped inside, careful not to slip on the sawdust. Glancing around, he realized the bartender looked familiar. He had seen that furry face before. It was, Petie, his faithful golden retriever.
“Hi, Bob,” Petie said. “What’ll you have?” He reached over and turned down the volume on the karaoke machine next to the bar.
“Ah…, I’ll have a beer,” he replied astounded at the fact that Petie could talk.
Petie popped the lid on a can of Coors and poured the amber liquid into a glass. A heavy white foam slipped over the edge of the glass. “When did you start drinking beer?” he asked.
Bob shook his head in wonder. When had he started drinking beer? “I don’t know for sure. When did you start talking and tending bar?”
Petie barked in laughter. “Good question, Bob.” The dog wiped up the foam from the bar top. “So, do you know why you’re here?”
Bob scanned the room. It was empty. “Not really.”
Petie panted as his tongue lolled to the side of his mouth. “If you build it, they will come.”
“What did you say?” He took a long drink of his beer. A streak of foam lined the top of his lip.
“If you build it, they will come.” Petie refilled his glass. He was careful to pour the second beer so the foam didn’t spill onto the bar top.
Bob scratched his head. “Build, what?”
“This – a karaoke bar,” Petie said. The dog motioned with his paws. “If you build it, they will come.”
Bob felt the laugh form in his belly. He couldn’t stop himself. He howled with laughter. Tears rolled down his face. “This is the craziest dream, I’ve ever had.” Bob wiped his eyes with his pajama sleeve.
“It would solve your unemployment issue,” Petie replied as he polished a glass with a white cloth.
“True.” He continued to chuckle. What could have prompted this crazy dream? A Karaoke bar? It was something to think about, though. Bob pondered the idea while he finished his beer. He drained the glass and placed it on the bar top.
He awakened with a start. He had to go to the bathroom with an urgency that made him leap from his bed. He sprinted into the bathroom where he relieved himself. He smelled the strange aroma of beer on his breath. Beer? I don’t even like beer.
It was then the foggy remnants of his dream played out in perfect detail in his muddled mind. A karaoke bar?
Bob stumbled back to his bed and sat down. Where on earth had he gotten such a crazy idea? A karaoke bar. He had to smile. In the dim early morning light, his eyes were drawn to the title of the book he had tried to read the night before. In bold print was the title, “Field of Dreams.” With a chuckle, he shook his head and pulled the covers over his shoulder.
Petie shook himself awake with a loud jingle of his tags. The dog wandered over to Bob’s side of the bed and placed his wet nose against his arm. “I know, Petie. If I build it, they will come.” Petie licked his master’s face. Bob smiled into his pillow.
This short story was inspired by my husband’s dream. The only difference was, there were two Pomeranians who had a karaoke bar in Kansas. Don’t ask! We did have a good laugh over this last night! 😀
& EMBRACE YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR! Go ahead… share what comedy means to you!
“A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.”
Click: What is a Rhyme Scheme?
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Colleen M. Chesebro is an American Poet who loves crafting paranormal fantasy and magical realism, cross-genre flash fiction, syllabic poetry, and creative nonfiction. Colleen sponsors a weekly syllabic poetry challenge, called Tanka Tuesday, on wordcraftpoetry.com where participants learn how to write traditional and current forms of haiku, senryu, haiga, tanka, gogyohka, tanka prose, renga, solo-renga, haibun, cinquain, Etheree, nonet, and shadorma poetry. Colleen's syllabic poetry has appeared in the Auroras & Blossoms Poetry Journal, and in “Hedgerow, a journal of small poems.” She’s won numerous awards from participating in the Carrot Ranch Rodeo, a yearly flash fiction contest sponsored by carrotranch.com. In 2020, she won first place in the Carrot Ranch Folk Tale or Fable category, with her story called “Why Wolf Howls at the Moon.” Colleen is a Sister of the Fey, where she pursues a pagan path through her writing. When she is not writing, she is reading. She also loves gardening and crocheting old-fashioned doilies into works of art.