TINY TUESDAY (m)
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TINY TUESDAY (m)
| Tue, 01-01-2002 - 12:15pm |
TINY TUESDAY (m)
Sitting here watching the Tournament of Roses, I thought it might be fun to write a scene or short story (max of 500 words) involving a float.
Have fun,
Mac

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It's late, it's dumb but what the heck here's my TT (m)
Matt slapped a hand across my mouth and whispered, “shh. I think someone’s out there.” We listened from inside the World of Magic float, waiting any minute to be discovered but once it was clear that no one was there, I began to undress.
Time was limited for us.
I’d told my husband the float decorating committee meeting was an hour earlier than it actually was so I could spend a few precious moments with Matt. For months we’d exchanged looks across the school’s cafeteria where I worked on the food line and he chaperoned his students.
“I swear I hear something,” Matt said, and stopped unfastening my bra.
“Enough already. Are you just nervous about this?”
Nodding his head, he said, “No. I just…yeah, I guess I’m a little nervous. Sorry!” Matt grabbed the back of my head and pulled me towards him, covering my lips with his.
I grabbed the bottom of his CHS Marching Band sweatshirt and began to pull it upward. “Beth, I just want you to know—”
“Let’s not waste anymore time,” I said, placing two fingers over his lips.
As I worked my way out of my jeans, Matt retrieved a condom from his wallet. As he unwrapped the package, I noticed his hands were shaky. But before I could assist him, the condom slipped out and fell through the small opening in the bottom of the float, falling to the floor below.
“Shit. That was the only one I had.”
With a heavy sigh, I said, “Maybe this just wasn’t meant to be.”
“I’m sorry, Beth.”
Looking at my watch, I reached over and grabbed my blouse. “The others are going to be here any minute.”
He shook his head.
And any minute couldn’t have been more accurate. As we climbed from the float, Paul Gouldin and his daughter Sara met us. “Hey guys. How’s it going?”
Matt quickly answered, “Good. I was just showing Beth how the hydraulics work.” As Matt went into details about the inside works that would lift the eagle’s wings, I tried to look interested and hoped my face wasn’t beaming red as I suspected it was.
Sara tugged on her Daddy’s jacket. “You said it was made of flowers.”
“It is, honey,” Paul said.
Holding up the condom in her hand, Sara asked, “Well, what’s the balloon for?”
ROFL mac, only you could(m)
write such a funny and imaginative story. I'll never look at those floats in the same way--heheheh.
Linda
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
LOL Mac, you are SO BAD (m)
I particularly enjoyed the idea of the affair beginning in a high school cafeteria!
e
Too Funny Mac.....I like it! n/t
cracking me up...
The float story is a great idea. I hope to post one later. One of my new years goals is to post here REGULARLY!!!!
Thanks and I LOVE your (m)
New Year's goal of posting here regularly!!! I look forward to reading your TT.
Mac
Thanks Maria...I appreciate you reading it! (nt)
Thanks E...I think it was the (m)
hairnet that attracted him to her-LOL!
Mac
Thanks Linda (m)
Glad you liked it and thanks for the nice compliment.
Mac
A Thursday TT
“God, is this thing still on?” Joanie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and plopped down next to Jeanie.
“Yeah,” yawned Jeanie. “It’s the third Special Encore Presentation right now. There’s only about a three minute difference between the broadcasts on 2, 4, 5, 7, 11, and 13. Channel 9’s Godzilla marathon doesn’t start for another half an hour, so they’ve stopped running it already. They’re showing just the highlights right now. And of course on 22 you can get it en espanol.”
The twins let their gazes slightly lose focus as a high school marching band out of Monkey’s Eyebrow, KY, tromped across the screen while playing a very loose interpretation of White Christmas.
“So, anything interesting yet?”
Jeanie cocked her head toward her sister, a half smile on her face. “You know,” she said, “one of these years we should go out and see this thing.”
“Sure, one of these years,” Joanie sleepily replied. The twins had lived in the deepest, darkest heart of Orange County all of their lives. No more than 40 miles from the parade route (which translated into an hour drive – each way – with decent traffic). Yet they had never witnessed this Southern California tradition live, not even once.
Jeanie was just about to switch the channel to the Spanish broadcast when the lilting voice of Bob Eubanks announced that the float from their city was coming past the cameras.
“Brace yourself. If it’s as tacky as last year’s this should be a real treat,” said Joanie.
The twins could hear the music before the actual float came into view. It was a sped-up version of the Miami Sound Machine’s Conga song. Then they saw the float.
Their fair city’s contribution to the annual Tournament of Roses parade was a more or less life-sized depiction of King Kong. “In an imaginative use of kelp and bruised pansies,” Bob Eubanks helpfully explained.
“I particularly like the loincloth,” Jeanie said. The civic leaders of their city weren’t about to let their Kong go about shamelessly exposed for all to see.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Joanie said. “I think they did a pretty good job with Fay Wray. I mean, just look at her mouth.” The float designers hadn’t quite worked out the scale properly, so Kong held a 7-foot long screaming maiden clutched in his right paw. Her mouth (“that brilliant red you see is achieved by dying red carnations in cherry Kool-Aid”) was in the wide O shape that is normally found on blow-up dolls lacking true lifelike articulation.
“Well, I will grant them this,” said Jeanie. “They did manage to make Kong’s hips shake almost in time with the music. Now that’s talent.”
Joanie could only murmur her agreement. “I’m getting hungry,” she said. “The Godzilla marathon’s about to come on. Wanna grab a baloney sandwich before it starts?”
Jeanie murmured her agreement.
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