| Image Credit: http://www.wordle.net/gallery?username=Morning|
Create a story, a prose or a poem using at least 4 words from the Wordle given above. of course, you may apply all words provided in your entry, enjoy the challenge!caption
His life would have been far easier if he’d been trudging through mud-caked, bug infested jungles in search of drug kingpins or slave traders. His nerve would still be spot-on if he could be facing down the horned beast on safari or swilling coconut rimmed banana drinks on the beach with a barely clad lady, or two.
“What do you think, Uncle Trak—24 or 26? A or B cup?”
His face burned with the same intensity as his shoulders. How did women carry around all of these bags while still shopping and in some cases corralling two point five kids?
“Uncle Trak, are you going to pass out?”
Only if he was lucky. What had his monkey-assed brother been thinking to name him as guardian of an eleven-year-old, pre-teen emotional time bomb?
“Do you think color matters? Should it be pink or purple, oooh red and silk?”
Red silk at eleven? “I can hear the stripper music already,” He grumbled under his breath, while dodging his nieces questioning gaze.
“So…red, silk or pink and purple.” She held the undergarments up for he and the entire world to see, waiting impatiently for his answer, but all he could do is stare at the small piece of material he’d once love to see on and off a woman. Now though, he’d never be able to enjoy the sight without thinking of this horrible moment.
Freaking story of his life.
Trak sighed and gave up the hope that he would get through this without having to speak or be seen. In for a penny, in for pound. He thought about his mother’s tired old cliché and ground his teeth at how well it fit the situation.
“Don’t they have a plain white training bra at this place?” He looked around, praying no one had heard him talking bras.
“WHAT? I HAVE TO TRAIN THEM?” The shock on her face nearly turned him inside out. Had no one explained what was going on with her body…did this mean he would have to explain her period to her too? Oh shit, would he have to talk to her about sex, as well?
The store seemed much brighter than it had moments ago and the cold sweat washing over him left a sick feeling in his usually steel stomach. He couldn’t do this…he just couldn’t.
“Uncle Trak, will they learn to sit, stay or heal maybe?”
Sit, Stay…what? The tipped eyebrow told him he’d been had in a very large way. She’d been screwing with him much like his brother always had.
“You’re so easy, T,” she laughed, turning to pick the exact bra she needed. White, thank God! “By the way, you need to meet some new women. Not every red bra wearing woman is a stripper.”
Shit, eleven-year-olds had really good hearing.
~~~Stop by Bluebell Books and join in on the Thrusday Story Slam.