Purpling Everything – CCC#94 & dVerse

I knew kinda-sorta where I wanted to go with this Crispina’s challenge but didn’t know where to start. Then the dVerse challenge came in and helped me move.  Björn is hosting and decided we need to verb our nouns, so to speak.  We are to Meet the Bar, Verbing, he says, which has inspired me to do what I rarely do, which is to put two challenges together.

Purpling Everything

 

I need to chocolate, my muse is confused

Maybe wine instead, words stuck in my head

I will trellis my way till I find what to say

Or snake and wiggle, till I get a giggle

 

Then Crispina showed up and said

Why don’t you purple instead

it’s better for your health

not to mention your wealth

 

And I couldn’t help but smile

I see you’ve been purpling awhile

That I have indeed

from my fence to my head to this pretty weed

 

What Revenge? – Friday Fictioneers

Well now, here we are Wednesday and time for another Friday Fictioneers.  I normally do not read other stories before writing my own but since I did have a ping-back from a certain displaced Scot, well, I had no choice but to read his first. ‘Twould appear the gauntlet has been thrown by the Unintelligible Rogue with a Brogue.  And, despite this nasty cold that is keeping my head fuzzy and my throat raw, one full week in, I did feel the need to reply.  I did the best I could, in the circumstances.  And, by the way, I may be a Canuck, but I am definitely not a poutine-besmattered one!

This is all fun and games… You know we love you and you are our favourite Scot!

Thank you, Lizy for this macabre photo that would have prompted a different story had my hand not been forced 😉

Thank you, Rochelle, for both hosting this shindig and for being my partner-in-crime!

Geez… almost forgot the linkup for those who would like to read more stories or write their own!

liz-young

Word Count: 100 (oh I would have liked to have more!)

Genre:  What to call this?

What Revenge?

The ladies smiled at him… then at each other.

“Do those lips do more than talk gibberish?” asked the taller of the two, batting her lashes.

“Yeah, do tell us, Scot!  Actions speak louder than words,” the petite one flirted.

The Scottish rogue sauntered over with a lecherous smile, opened the gate and walked inside.

The ladies walked up to him the taller reaching around his neck, the smaller around his waist.

“Och, I’m a lucky man,” he grinned.

His grin disappeared when he found himself bound and gagged.

That should do it, eh?  Keep him quiet for a bit!