Tag Archives: crime

Escape [flash 261]

Kevin never had been good with rope, which is why he killed his lawyer with a nice clean punch to the throat.

Next, he stole the dead man’s clothes, swiftly switching his prison garb for the distinguished navy blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. Kevin slipped on the brown wingtips, not bothering with socks. He was in a hurry.

Kevin patted his new pockets, making sure he had the lawyer’s ID and car keys–some things, you couldn’t skimp on. Lastly, he removed the Rolex from the dead man’s wrist. It was a fine piece, but alas not for him. He passed it to the guard on his way out. That guy had some bad habits.

In the parking lot, Kevin discreetly beeped the e-key until a vehicle responded. Ah, a Lexus. Nice. His disposition was cheerful as he found his favorite radio station and exited the visitor’s gate. Stomping on the gas, he made a zigzag down the empty road as he continued his escape.

But suddenly blue lights flashed behind him at the next stop and Kevin was forced to pull over. Remembering he had the lawyer’s ID, he forced himself to stay calm as he showed the officer the registration from the glovebox and the driver’s license.

“What’s the problem, Officer?” Kevin asked calmly. “I’m late to a meeting.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The policeman looked at the license and then at Kevin. “But your tags are expired and you don’t look anything like this photo. When did you shave your head and get the cobra tattoo?”

~*~

M is for Married [A2Z]

Multiple bonus M’s manifest in today’s romantic comedy Married to the Mob. We have the stars Michelle Pfeiffer and Matthew Modine mixing it up with the Mob. Michelle is a Mafia wife married to a macho man who doesn’t believe in monogamy. When he is caught messing around with his boss’s mistress however, macho man is found murdered. That’s when Matthew moves in to solve the crime, and fall for mama Michelle.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets a bullet in the head. And heart.

If anyone has it in for the obnoxious Alec Baldwin, you’ll be happy to watch this flick. Even if not, Michelle P. is fun to see as a gum-snapping brunette.

The Neighborly Way [fiction 640]

Dear Lawrence:

I hope this missive finds you well. I apologize for interrupting your travels, but I am having a bit of an issue with your tenants. In your absence, your property has become quite… fragrant with the strong odors emitted by their various circus creatures, and I did speak to them once, but was treated rather rudely. My wife Zelda was with me and can attest that I was polite and moderate throughout the exchange. I do hope we can resolve this in the neighborly way, for it is never pleasant when things become intense between adjoining landowners, and besides that, I consider us friends.

Yours,

Edmund

***

Dear Edmund,

Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I regret I did not inform you before I left for my charity work abroad I had my property rezoned to care for animals that had been cruelly mistreated. Unfortunately, my tenants do not speak English well, which is probably why you thought they were being “rude.” They do however speak 12 other languages perfectly, though I realize you are familiar with only the one.

The foul odor you were complaining about was the death of a pregnant elephant. This was a terribly abused poor noble animal and her passing (along with the death of her unborn calf) has devastated us all. But the remains have been disposed of now, so I trust we are still on amicable terms?

Sincerely,

Lawrence

***

Larry,

Wow no need to insult my lack of language skills there buddy! While your daddy greased the way for you to go to fancy schools with his oil money I was working two jobs. Sorry I didn’t have time to fart around in language and poetry classes lah tee dah, mea culpa. J/k! Yes the stink is gone thank God, but now a weasel or some other rat type critter from next door has chewed through my cable and I missed the big game! Zelda left to visit her sister so I’m eating pizza every night and it’s getting old! What’s up with you?

Yours,

Eddie

PS: Sorru about any typos, Zelda isn’t here and I’ve had a lot of beer. Hey that rhymes!

***

Hello again Edmund,

Life is certainly an adventure, is it not? I was saddened to learn of your arrest for arson. I’ve heard very good things about the public defenders, so I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I had no idea your property had so many liens against it. Dear me, what a spot of bother. Luckily, I have very good insurance, so all my damages were taken care of, and most importantly my tenants are fine and no animals were harmed in the little blaze. I am sure that relieves your conscience, such as it is.

Quite sorry I missed your 17 calls asking for bail. Must have lost connectivity whilst in the French countryside. It’s so lovely here. I shall send you a postcard once you have a more erm permanent address.

Sincerely,

Lawrence

***

YOLO,

How goes it, my dude? I’m cool. Kind of a star here really. No one messes with me since I’ve been working out like a maniac. I really appreciate the postcards! Everyone loves looking at the lions and birdies and waterfalls and stuff. That one of the little French cafe was awesome too. My bunkie used to be a baker before they framed him for killing his wife. You wouldn’t believe how many innocent guys are in this place! Speaking of wives, I don’t understand what happened to Zelda. Not one phone call or visit. It’s so strange… she went off to visit her sister and then POOF!

Eh whatever. I guess it’ll just remain a mystery.

Thanks for staying in touch.

Yours,

Fireball Ed

***

Dear Fireball,

I’m with Lawrence now.

Here are the divorce papers.

Zelda

~*~

Genre Challenge 25: Epistolary

Three Things Challenge

Opposites Attract Challenge 24

Opposites Attract Challenge 25

Once Upon A Blog Crime ~ Game 4

A Guy Called Bloke aka Chief Rory alerted me to some nefarious shenanigans happening in our otherwise peaceful neighborhood. It is my sworn and solemn duty as Inspector Light (my secret identity) to investigate any such disruptions to our smooth and graceful waves of daily (and nightly) postings.

Chief R informed me that unfortunately we only had the skimpiest bits of clues at this time, but I must needs make haste to find out why things were awry, askew, crooked, and cattywampus. Naturally, in order to discover why things were cattywampus, I had to bring my partner, Mr. Gatsby. 😾

My report to Chief R:

Our first stop is at Ribana of Popsicle Society, and Mr. G commences examining the popsicle sticks on the living room table. I discover with my amazing powers of investigation (aka reading the “about” section) that Ribana is from Romania, and therefore already suspect as a vampire. I immediately search for a coffin, which I do find in the bedroom, but Ribana is not in it. Who is?

It’s Jay-lin! But wait. Everything here is not what it seems, my sharpened instincts from years on dating sites tell me. Swiftly, I whip out a mirror and hold it up to Jay-lin’s pretty face. Aha! No reflection. Ribana must have turned her into a vampire too.

I check my reflection in the compact and put on some lipstick because you never know when you might “cute meet” your dream man, and as I’m doing this Mr. G meows from the kitchen. I rush in there to find Sadje making a nice healthy lunch. Or she was making lunch, but now Sadje is collapsed on the floor with lettuce and tomatoes and mushrooms all over her. Mr. G is swatting the mushrooms under the refrigerator.

“Stop that!” I scold him. “Those are evidence.”

He doesn’t listen though; he never does. I try to move the refrigerator to collect the mushrooms for my evidence bag, but it’s too heavy, which makes me suspicious. I open the refrigerator door, and there, there in the refrigerator, is the cold corpse of none other than our very own…

Lisa of All About Life! (But sadly, not now.)

Well, Chief, I know a dead body when I see one, especially with a set of bite wounds in her neck, and Lisa is definitely dead. It occurs to me at that point to check if Sadje is dead too, thank my stellar reflexes again, since she’s just about to stab me with a steak knife. Quickly, I overpower her and secure her wrists behind her back with the zip ties in my purse.

“Why were you on the floor?” I ask.

“Low blood sugar,” she says. “Fainted.”

Now I remember that Richa of iScriblr is a ghost writer, and I run up the narrow staircase to the attic to find Richa indeed writing Ribana’s vampire life story as Ribana dictates it while Richa floats around in the air with her laptop. Jay-lin is awake and with them now too, hissing at me when she sees me in the doorway.

So, Chief, we now have all the questions properly answered:

Who is the victim? Lisa

Who is the murderer? Jay-lin

Who is the location? Ribana

Who is the murder weapon? Sadje

Who is the motive? Richa

Jay-lin, a vampire agent, reps vampires to publishers who sell first-person vampire stories. Jay-lin discovered that Ribana is a vampire and got her a big advance. She hired Richa, an actual ghost writer, to write the story that Ribana dictated. Sadje stayed downstairs as a housekeeper. When Lisa, another writer, came over looking for Richa because she wanted to hire her for a project, she asked too many questions and Sadje became upset. Lisa wouldn’t leave, so Sadje hit her over the head with a cutting board. Jay-lin arose from her coffin and finished the job with a bite to the neck, which also was dinner, conveniently. 😺

~*~

I hope everyone had fun with my story and no one took offense. 💖

A New You — Finish the Story Challenge

This challenge was started by Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith and then passed to Rory, A Guy Called Bloke. Rory passed the challenge on to Kristian, who passed it to me. [Note: I edited this paragraph to apply to me after Rory reblogged my post and noted that I’d kept Kristian’s wording.]

Here is Rory’s post:

Finish The Story 2019 – #8

and here is Teresa’s original post:

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/03/13/finish-the-story-2019-8/

store-984393_1920

Finish The Story 2019 – #8

Tailoring A New You

The small shop sat on the corner of Houston and Parker for more than a century. Any piece of clothing a person ever needed could be found there. They even sold hand stitched underwear. The Frederickson family owned the shop from the day it opened, and everyone loved the family.
It wasn’t just the customer service, low prices, and great quality that brought customers back for generations – it was the other things the Fredericksons offered. They say a new pair of clothes can change a person, and at A New You, they meant it. One had to be careful when requesting a custom suit – you didn’t want to get your specifications wrong. Why, even one misplaced check mark could have dire consequences on a person’s future.
Take Emilio for example, he …
***
Part 2 – Rory from A Guy Called Bloke

Take Emilio for example, he … had listened to his Father Fausto for years, since indeed when he had been kneehigh to a grasshopper crediting and hailing the Fredericksons or as his Father pronounced it the Frederickshons for their exquisitery and finery in being able to produce something absolutely remarkable from sometimes the most staidest of cloth and if not that then there was this magical element to the garments, you didn’t just wear the suit, the suit wore you!
Fausto, had been a young man when he had first ventured into the German tailors at the bequest of his own Father Gregorio, Emilio’s Grandfather only armed with the words – ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover Fausto, this family are from a long line of magickal tailors. They enthuse the garments with not just love and beauty, nor experience and wisdom but if l didn’t know better, l would say with their very souls and blood, indeed it is almost like wearing another person’s skin, but in suit form. For the best suit anywhere in this world, this is the only place to be”
“The moment you slip inside the fabric, it’s almost like you are a different person. My last bit of advice is you must know what you and who you want and where you want to be in life? Then the master tailor Gunther he will make you a masterpiece of craftsmanship. There will never be anything like it ever again, it will be your one and only suit from the time you start your professional life to the day you stop working, then you MUST take off that suit and return it to the family of the Frederickshons, so that they can destroy it, do you understand what l am saying to Fausto?”
“I think so Father, yes.” Fausto answered rather confusedly.
When Fausto had gone to the family tailors he had been made a suit so fine, so fitting that he never needed another suit ever again in his life, he had wanted to be rich and successful and within a very short time Fausto had become one of the cities most sought out grocers. No one had fruits or vegetables of the quality that Fausto had. No one could ever outsell him, outbid him, outsmart or outfool him. After 50 years he had built up an empire of grocery stalls that was the best in all of the Americas! Fausto had wanted his favourite and only Son Emilio to take on the family business, but Emilio needed his own power suit, his own successful three-piece so he could follow in his Father’s footsteps ………
.….except Fausto hadn’t actually asked his Son what and if he wanted to follow in his Father’s shadow, or if he wanted to lead his own life?
Of course the truth had he been asked was indeed different – Emilio wanted his Sister Alessandra to take on her Father’s business. His Sister had always been keenly astute on that side of the business, she was very taken with fruits and vegetables and herbs, she was a fabulous cook, who knew all the right ingredients to make each dish spectacular – she was in her own rights their families best chef! You see Emilio, well he had other interests, and they didn’t involve cucumbers, broccoli or marrows – he used to play with bananas and pretend they were guns …. and even more recently he had made friends with Alphonse who had even bigger dreams. Alphonse had at one time been a Five Points Gang member and was shrewd, he was also closely associated with the notorious Johnny Torrio. Alphonse himself was a right ‘snorky’, and also used the Frederickshons for his own suits, but he had many made and needed more than one, for his many shades of personality and success. Snorky was the terms for ‘sharp dresser’ and Emilio wanted to be like Alphonse too!
The year was 1923, the location was Chicago and Emilio and Alphonse walked into the Frederickshons Tailors where Gunther upon seeing them, greeting them both, “Emilio, your Papa Fausto said you would be stopping by with your new friend, but l never knew, this was the type of suit you wanted!” Turning to Alphonse, “Mr Capone it is so good to see you again, a new suit is it?”
” Gunther, not at all, l want you to outfit my new boy here, Emilio, tell the man what you want?”
Emilio, smiled a big proud toothy grin and said …..

Part 3 – Kristian’s Addition

“I want to look drop dead gorgeous” Emilio said. He liked the ladies, but so far in his life, they seemed to realise he was a low life scumbag who liked gangs and violence and so stayed well away.

Unfortunately the Magical Tailor, Gunther, was become a trifle deaf. He was coming up to two hundred years old and was way past retirement age. Being slightly deaf, he failed to hear Emilio’s last word. You would have thought that it would have occurred to him that Emilio’s request was rather strange and therefore he must have misheard, but senility was creeping in, so he crafted the suit according to the very request he had heard.

Within a week of wearing it, Emilio had dropped dead.

The consequences of Gunther’s auditory and mental deterioration were even more drastically displayed when poor Tristram Van De Gould went in for a fitting.

He asked for a waistcoat that would make him appear slimmer, what he ended up with was a straightjacket that prevented him from eating at all. He died of an emptystomach.

If you thought things couldn’t get any worse, you were wrong because next……..

 

Part 4 ~ Paula’s Part

The taxicab stopped in front of the shop and a disparate group of Americans piled out. “Hey!” yelled the driver. “Someone needs to pay me!”

“Someone pay the poor guy, for Pete’s sake,” Bernie said. “What’s the matter with you people?” And he walked into the shop, bumping his head on the door. “Owww.”

“I’d love to pay him,” Kamala said, “but I gave all my money to that sweet little girl at the airport who said she was homeless.” She went into the shop too. Amy and Beto and Liz ran after her. “Wait for us!” they shouted.

Joe rolled his eyes. “Geez, I’ll pay him. I always get stuck with the check when I go out with those guys,” he said to the cabbie. “It’s just the weirdest thing!”

“I sympathize, buddy,” the cabbie said. “My in-laws are exactly the same. Have fun shopping.”

Trailing after the others into the shop, Joe found them already arguing with the suit maker, who was nearly deaf, apparently. Everyone was yelling. “CALM DOWN!” Joe shouted.

“I was here first,” Bernie insisted. “I should get to order my suit first.”

“Fine.” Amy plopped down in a chair. “I’ll just sit here and have some of their free juice. Can I drink it out of one of these shoes, Gunther?”

The ancient tailor heard his name and turned in her direction. “Ehh, no one here named Sue, honey. We have a Lucy, but she’s off today.”

“‘Scuse me!” Beto said. “But we don’t call women honey anymore. I got in trouble for making some jokes earlier, so now I intend to be an annoying sourpuss wherever I go. I think my suit should reflect my new personality of a serious man who has meditated deeply upon–”

Bernie waggled a finger in his face. “MY TURN MY TURN MY TURN!”

“Ahem,” Kamala said. “This is a perfect example of why we need a woman in charge. Men just feel so entitled to everything. It’s definitely time for women to show how things can be done in a more orderly and peaceful manner.”

“You hussy!” Liz cried. “You winked at my husband at the rally last month.”

“What are you talking about?” Kamala said. “Have you gone off the reservation again?”

“LOL!” Amy laughed, coughing on her shoe juice.

Beto tried so hard not to laugh he waved his arms around madly and knocked over a rack of ties. Joe picked them all up.

Liz showed Kamala a video on her phone. “See? There you are winking at my sweetie.”

“I was crying,” Kamala told her. “I have hay fever. I had to take a Benadryl.”

Gunther hobbled over and said, “Alrighty then, dearies. Who’s next? I’ve measured the men.”

Kamala went next. Liz said to Amy, “I don’t even know why we’re here. It seems so silly, but I didn’t want to be at a disadvantage when you all said you were getting these special suits made.”

“I know, right?” Amy shrugged. “They’re supposed to be magical, or something.”

“Hillary had a suit made here,” Joe said. “But then she didn’t wear it. I’m not sure why. I’d ask her, but she won’t talk to me anymore. Who can even understand women, am I right?”

They just glared at him. “Oopsy,” Beto said. “Uncle Joe needs to go for retraining. Perhaps some yoga.”

“What?” Joe looked around, bewildered. “What did I do?”

“This shop needs to unionize,” Bernie announced. “Who’s with me on that?”

Liz frowned. “I don’t see any employees, Bern. Plus, it’s another country. They don’t need your help.”

“Everyone needs my help!” Bernie waggled his finger at her.

Gunther finished up with Liz and Kamala, and now all six Americans had been measured and fitted for their custom suits. They had told Gunther exactly what their hopes were for the coming year and he would take that into account when designing their apparel. He tallied up the final bill and brought it back out to the front.

“All the suits should be ready in three weeks,” he said to the group. “I can have them air mailed for an additional fee, since I know everyone has to zip back across the pond to his and her busy lives. Now did you want separate cheques?”

Everyone looked at Joe. He sighed and took out his Amex. “No, I’ll put it on my card for the travel points. We’ll settle up later.”

“Thanks, Joe!” everyone said. “You’re the best! We’ll PayPal you!”

The suits did arrive three weeks later, as promised. But…

 

And here I pass the story on to….

Fandango, of course!

Rules–
Copy the story below as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
Tag only 1 person
If you choose to not participate or finish the story, please comment/tag this post so that I know.

Sorry Sorry Sorry!

I’m tired of useless, BS apologies. Haven’t we heard enough of them already? All these phony baloney pretensions of being contrite when everyone knows that the only thing the [celeb, politician, spouse, etc.] is sorry about is the fact that they got caught doing whatever thing. 🙄

I expect that in the coming weeks we’ll be treated to a parade of sorries from the criminals caught up in the college cheating scandal. You know they’re unrepentant. You know they haven’t suddenly found a moral compass. They’re just sorry they got caught.

I would love to see real justice served up to these uber wealthy who believe they can sail through life flinging money at every obstacle until it disappears, but I’ve been told that is unlikely. Money is power after all. These superrich celebs know another scandal will be along soon, and theirs will thaw in the public mind until it melts from view.

It was a relief to read that Faux News creep announcing how he refused to apologize for his nasty comments about women and girls. He knows he’s a jerk. He knows we know ~ and he doesn’t give a crap. No one has to pretend to accept his fake apology because he isn’t giving one. Win win!

On the other hand, when someone is forced to apologize for saying something nasty or doing a bad, and you know they don’t mean it, our cultural norms dictate that you give them a second chance even when you know in your heart they’re insincere. That’s really annoying. 😡

Then what happens? All too predictably, they go and do the same thing again. We’ve all seen it, haven’t we? Both in our personal lives and with public figures. I used to buy into the second chance garbage, especially with romance ~ I can’t tell you how many plots are built around the concept of the “second chance romance,” and it seeps into your mindset that you should be forgiving. Well, that’s crapadoo.

We should be more judgmental is what. If your instincts say someone is a lying jerk, and they’ve hurt you once, then why accept an apology? Why give a second chance? Eff all that. Pffft. 😛

Yeah, if time has passed and someone has demonstrably changed their behavior, that’s a different thing. Then their apology isn’t just a giant bowl of moldy word salad.

*

Speaking of misogyny. This is in no way a defense of the Faux News creep, but we are sure weird about bodies, especially female ones. I mean, we have “pageants” where women (or girls even, gah) are supposed to glorify their physical looks in bikinis and glittery gowns, with loads of makeup on their faces and their hair styled all sexy, etc., but men are not supposed to be attracted to them, and if they are, they must not express their attraction in any sort of inappropriate language. What is the right way for a man to say that Miss Maine is appealing to him without sounding degrading or demeaning? “Gosh, I would love to discuss poetry with her over a nice cup of tea?” 🌹

There are men who haven’t been present at teen beauty pageants, ever. I would wager most men have not. So, we don’t know what most adult men would say to their friends about these girls. Maybe adult men shouldn’t be at these pageants. Maybe we shouldn’t have contests where teen girls are judged by adult men on how they look in bikinis. Just some thought noodles…

*

WordPress apparently did not want to be left out of the #failloop of Gmail and Facebook, which both went kerflooey this week, Gmail on Tuesday and FB yesterday. (I only know about FB from everyone’s moaning ~ happily, I do not have any FB products myself.) So, last night I was yet again treated to a 12+ hour gap in posts in my newsfeed. If you’re wondering why you’re missing my hearts and cheery comments, this is the reason. 😢

I did search for the prompts however, and to my delight lots of them could be applied (with a wrench) to this very post I had saved in drafts, hurrah! Of course, I needed to write a zillion more words, but when does that stop me? (Hint: never.) I hope everyone has read to the bitter end looking for the prize!

Erm, there isn’t one.

So very sincerely sorry that you read all these words for nothing. 😂😂😂

~*~

Opposites Attract: Challenge 9

Opposites Attract: Challenge 11

[yes, I skipped 10 ~ even my wrench could not make it fit]

One-Liner Wednesday [rants in my pants]

I’m disgusted by the news from yesterday. And this time it doesn’t have anything to do with our horrible POTUS or one of his sycophants. I’m talking about the college admission scandal. Sure, people will roll their eyes and say it’s nothing new that the uber wealthy will pave the way for their children (we all try to help our children the best we can), but to me there’s a big diff in alumni daddy making a donation so his not so bright son can get a spot with less than stellar creds and these desperate celebs paying criminals to cheat for them. Paying a shill to take their kid’s SAT, or a proctor to change the answers, bribing a coach to say their kid is on a team when she’s not, sending in photoshopped fake pics of their kid playing a sport, on and on.

But to me the most awful thing is that these spoiled brat celeb kids don’t even give a crap about the value of these prestigious schools. They aren’t there to get a degree in order to make connections and start a career. Nope. Not at all. They already have connections and careers, thanks to their parents and their good looks. They have contracts as models and influencers. All they need the college for is to be able to add it as a hashtag.

It’s utterly nauseating. I hope the colleges throw every celeb kid out and give those spots to people who actually want to be there and have legit credentials.

~*~

One-Liner Wednesday

V4L Challenge 7

10 Different Ways

[The above is a quote from Marshall McLuhan. The following is fiction.]

1. I love… knowing you are the one.

2. I love… watching you from afar, sending you notes, following your car.

3. I love… destroying my rival and making her believe you don’t want her any longer.

4. I love… setting everything on fire so you will scream my name in the flames.

5. I love… that you pretend not to know me; yes, it’s safer that way.

6. I love… my public defender… he really understands everything I have gone through.

7. I love… this jury of my peers… I feel the compassion in their souls.

8. I love… my prison assignment… it’s nice and warm in the laundry.

9. I love… my parole officer… she’s my very best friend.

10. I love… my darling new little puppy… I don’t know why I used to be so obsessed with men.

Making the Eight

Who knows this Game of Thrones reference? 😀

I’ve been tagged by Jim to answer these 8 questions and so I shall.

1. Name a moment in your life when you felt you were most courageous.

– When I chased the car that hit me in 2016, off the freeway, down deserted streets, after midnight, like a freaking idiot. Thank God he lost me. What in hell did I think I was gonna do if he stopped? He was probably armed!

2. If you had to choose only one breakfast cereal for the rest of your life, which one would it be?

– Instant Quaker oatmeal, maple flavor.

3. When have you felt the most scared?

– See no. 1.

4. If you could sing like any musical artist, who would you choose?

– Rosanne Cash.

5. Do you collect anything?

– Not now, no space.

6. If you could live inside a TV show or movie, what would it be?

You’ve Got Mail.

7. Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? If so, what was it?

– I used to dream for years about drowning, near- drowning, houses flooding so I’d have to escape to the roof, warning people that water was coming up to the windows and no one would listen, etc. My ex-husband said these dreams were because my mother was so hovering, but they stopped the day he left, so idk.

8. What’s your Zodiac sign?

♉️

My Dream House

When I first saw Melanie’s question, I thought of a condo. I’m not really a “yard person,” and why would I want to bother with paying someone to maintain gardens if I’m not gonna sit out there and enjoy ’em? But condos have HOA’s with loads of rules and busybodies and freaking neighbors in your face telling you what color toilet paper to use. Annoying! 😡

So, forget the condo. I’ll take a house in Huntington Beach. Not a big monster house, but something modest where I can have a few cats and a quiet life. Today I’m only supposed to describe the outside of it because we’re doing the inside in another post. Why? Idk! Ask Melanie.

There are a lot of cute houses in HB, but I don’t want one too close to the beach because tsunamis, hello. Or too close to a school, shopping center, busy street, or anything noisy and irritating. The reason I like HB is because it’s an okay commute to my job in Irvine, and it has all the stores and doctors. How’s that for sounding like an old? Of course if we’re really dreaming, I’m independently wealthy and no longer have to work. Maybe then we’ll scootch my dream house on up to Santa Barbara.

[search]

Welp, I can’t find any photos of my house on Zillow. Probably it won’t be in HB after all… the cute houses are all smushed up next to each other and the ones with more lot space are mega mansions. I just want an 1800 square footer with some yard around the sides for privacy. Then I’ll have nice trees and pretty flowers and a patio in the back with striped furniture I won’t use. Gotta be striped though. And a table with an umbrella! No pool… meh. They fill up with frogs and salamanders and who needs that?

I want a catio ~ a patio for my cats where they can play safely in a large enclosed outdoor area but not run away or get hurt. Actually I’ll sit out there too and write while my cats scamper around. That’ll be fun! So maybe I don’t need the umbrella table then? Or do people have a catio and a patio? That seems rather indulgent. Anyway, my catio will need a heat lamp like a restaurant… and a cute waiter to turn it on. He can double as my massage guy. (Really wish I hadn’t google image searched that. You get the catio, sorry.)

Even though my house isn’t super duper deluxe, I want a really nice front door cuz I’ve never had one, with everything on the outside painted turquoise and white… and a sweet curved walk and driveway paved with butterflies. I made that up, but it turns out this exists, as does everything you can think of.

That’s all. Here’s an approximation of my dream house. Imagine it in turquoise…

Hmm, these colors are growing on me. Like coffee ice cream with chocolate trim and a turquoise accent door. I can live with that, and maybe it’s better to keep my wacky tastes on the downlow so burglars won’t think to steal all my stuffs when I pop out to Target like they would if I went with my first impulse of purples and turquoise. 😂