Amuse Me, Please!


” I’d kill to be able to write again” the sad Writer with a serious blockage problem said to the other writer who had never suffered in such a state before.

” Do you think that could actually work, really?” said the Other Writer.

” I’m getting desperate, I’m willing to try anything” the Blocked Writer said as she wiped the back of her shaking  hand over her eyes.

She sobbed.

The other Writer took her friend’s hand away from her eyes. ” Do you really think that could work? Really?”

” I’m so desperate. And what do  you know? You’ve never been through something like this.

” You’re right about that”, the Other Writer said as she pulled the knife from her jacket and slid it across the Blocked Writer’s throat.

The Other Writer caught her in an embrace before the Blocked Writer fell to the ground.

” This could be like the apple a day thing. Thanks.”



Tea With Miss Venka

Unexpected Guests

You walk into your home to find a couple you don’t know sitting in your living room, eating a slice of cake. Tell us what happens next.


” Miss Venka! “

The middle aged couple- were both as pale and watery as the sunlight that was filtering through my somewhat clean windows and into my small cool sparsely furnished sitting room.

I didn’t use it often because I don’t do much entertaining.


He rose from the settee and put his slice of cake- I noted with dismay-  on the end table to his right.

She stood and did the same to her slice of cake.

The portrait that hung behind them looked down in disapproval.

Then the tall thin watery couple both reached out to me with their pale bony hands and smiled, ” It’s so good to meet you at last Miss Venka ” they both said together.

” I see you enjoyed the cake- ” I waited for them to introduce themselves.

” Oh. Pardon us. Britta.” The woman said with tears lighting up her eyes ” Britta and Rasmus Rundstrom.”

 ” We hope you don’t mind . The man who answered the door invited us in.  He told us to make ourselves at home. And then he left. Just like that. Well, we saw that delicious cake and the plates and forks.” Rasmus began the thought and then Britta finished it:

” We honestly couldn’t help ourselves.”

I sighed and shrugged. ” It’s fine really” I said not meaning it.

Our compliments to the baker Miss Venka.” Rasmus said ignoring the ice in my voice.” It was quite delicious.”

I ignored his compliment.

“That was my Father at the door. That Devil. He should have offered you some tea and almond cookies instead of leaving you with just that cake. It’s terribly sweet. The cookies would have been better.”

They didn’t say a word. They stood there expectantly.

” They’re imported.” I added. ” They’re quite good.”

I walked over to the sideboard where my now butchered cake was sitting.

I took up the cake knife and wiped it clean on a napkin.

” So what do I owe the pleasure of this nice…” I looked down at my cut up cake and sighed. ” Visit.”

” We’ve heard that you are a wonderful baker Miss Venka. Your sweets and pastries and cakes are famous.

I was confused. ” Famous for what?”

” From what we’ve tasted, it’s true.” Rasmus went back to the table and picked up his slice of cake.

He plunged his fork into this partially eaten slice and took another bite.

I winced.

” It so sweet it touches your soul. It overwhelms your senses…” he sang out.

I stopped him before he went over the edge and lost his sanity.

” Thank you. I took the plate from him and sat it down on the little table. ” But I don’t cater events. I don’t  bake for other people.”

” We can’t persuade you?” Britta asked. ” Are you sure? Money is no object and we are having a very important party. Your cake, it would be the highlight of the evening.”

” Very sure. I’m sorry. But my answer is no.” I said.

” I’ve never tasted anything so fine. It touched my soul Miss Venka. Truly. It’s the finest cake I have ever tasted.”

I thanked my guests and saw them out.

Then I went to the kitchen, which is light green and empty all but for a set of knives hanging from the wall and a single chair in the middle of the room.

I walked to the back of the kitchen and opened the door that led down into the basement.

” That was my favorite cake!” I yelled down into the darkness.

The door pulled itself out of my hand and slammed shut with a bang.

I walked back into my sitting room, which was dark now and a little chilly.

There were two new soulfully delicious cakes sitting next to my beautiful cake which fully restored to its uncut state.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes in relief.

I wondered when Mr and Mrs Rundstrom would be back, begging for more cake. I wondered if they would ever figure out why they, like the others would say they’d be willing to give up their souls to the Devil himself for another bite.

And my Father who lives in my basement would take them up on that deal.

He collects souls the way other people collect stamps.

Of course. I don’t collect souls.

I dabbed a little frosting from one of the new cakes on the tip of my finger and touched it to my tongue.

I closed my eyes and swooned a little.

I put them to better use than that.


Helping Hand

Life Line

You’re on a long flight, and a palm reader sitting next to you insists she reads your palm. You hesitate, but agree. What does she tell you?


” So you can look at my hand and see my future?”

Her name was Aminda Rava and she assured me she could do just that.

” All of these little lines mean something?”

Miss Rava said with a bright smile, “Among other things.”

” Go ahead.” I offered up my left hand.

” Is that your dominant hand?”

” My what?”

“Is that the hand you write with?”

” No.”

” I need to read your right hand then.”

I kept my smile carefully arranged on my face.

It was too late to back out.

I gave her my right hand.

Miss Rava looked at my hand, she read what was there and she looked slowly up into my face.

” Did it tell you anything?” I asked.

The Palm Reader shook her head. ” Not a word.”

” Are  you sure.” I grabbed her hand and held it tight. ” Not a word?”

” Nothing.” She insisted.

I offered her my left hand.

” Read this one.”

” I think. I think that wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

” Why on Earth not.”

” Your hand. Your hand.  It’s…

I leaned close and whispered into Aminda Rava’s ear- which was pieced six or seven times. “It says it’s not my hand.”

She looked confused.

I held my right  hand up. ” Blabbermouth.” I told it.

” I’d chop this one off too but do you know how hard it is to find a good fit?” I asked Miss Rava

I looked down at Aminda’s hand and when I looked up into her eyes…

I was smiling.

She was not.

” It’s almost impossible”

Wish I May Wish I Might….

Nothin’ But A Good Time
Imagine that tomorrow, all of your duties and obligations evaporate for the day. You get the day all to yourself, to do anything you please. What types of fun activities would make your day?


I love it when people tell me about their nightmares.

I love having them myself and when I have boring dreams where my brain is sorting out the junk that’s been piling up in there I wake up and think, ” that was boring, what a waste of REM sleep. “

So if I had a day to do exactly what I wanted, I would spend my day crawling into people’s skulls and give them the best nightmares EVER.

I would hold nothing back, I’d fill peoples dreams with murderous Aliens from Venus, diseases where your body parts drop off and you spend your dream trying to glue them back on again before  you’re late to class.

I’d make sure to hand out those dreams where the people you know look like and sound and act like  your kid or spouse but then they look at you and smile and you try to scream yourself awake and you think you’re awake but of course you’re not.

Oh and those dreams where something is chasing you?

I’d hand those out like candy, but I’d make sure you get to see what it is that is after you. And I’ll make it super unpleasant. I promise.

Is there anything else I’d like to do on my special day?

Hmmm. No, not really

Oh wait there is one thing.

I’d spend the entire time eating cupcakes.

Pretty ones lavender flavored ones with sprinkles and topped with tons of frosting