Lonnie Returns for #SampleSunday

Lonnie Returns — doesn’t that just send shivers of dread down your spine? If it doesn’t, you don’t know Lonnie.

Lonnie Carter is a character in two of my short stories. The first one, “Lonnie, Me and the Hound of Hell,” is the title story in one of my 99-cent collections. The second one, “Lonnie, Me and the Battle of St. Crispin’s Day,” is in the Southern Indiana Writers’ anthology, HOLIDAY BIZARRE.

Here’s a sample from the second Lonnie story.

Lonnie Returns To The Scenes Of His Youth

excerpt from “Lonnie, Me and the Battle of St. Crispin’s Day” by Marian Allen

Leona opened the back door before I knocked. When I asked her where Lonnie was, she grinned like a polecat and pointed toward the living room.

And there he sat, holding some kind of little something in his long skinny knobby hand and poking at it with one finger, looking as serious as if he was working.

“Hey, buddy,” I said.

He jumped so hard, the thing flew up out of his hands and tumbled through the air. He snatched at it but missed and the thing landed plump on the couch cushion beside him.

“Dang it, Tiny!” He grabbed the thing and rubbernecked between inspecting it for damage and glaring up at me. “I coulda broke my smart phone!”

I would have thought giving Lonnie Carter a smart phone was about like giving a banana to a cat, but he sat me down and showed it off and seemed to know how to work it.

“And you know,” he said, “you and me has had some laughs about this Facebook thing, but Leona got me onto it and who do you think friended me?”

“Lady Goo-ga.”

Leona came in with a cup of coffee for each of us, said, “Lady Goo-ga?” and went back into the kitchen.

I gave up. “Well, who was it?”

“Daniel Halloran.”

“Daniel…. Daniel….” The name was ringing a bell, somewhere in there. “Danny Halloran? Dime-Store Danny? King of the Five-Finger Discount?”

“That’s the one! And guess what he’s doing?”

“Ten to twenty for grand larceny?”

“No, he’s a priest! Father Dan is what they call him. And guess where he’s priesting?”

Lonnie r’ared back on the couch and bobbed his head in encouragement, but I was all done guessing for the day. “I don’t know, Lonnie. Tell me.”

“Saints Crispin and Crispinian. And guess what day it’s getting to be.”

It was a day I hadn’t thought of for over twenty years, but Lonnie had harked me back, and I knew right away what he meant.

“St. Crispin’s Day,” I said.

If you have a Catholic church in your neighborhood–at least, if you had one when Lonnie and me were growing up–and if it was named after a saint, you had a festival on or around that saint’s day every year. Saints Crispin and Crispinian, being twins, had the same feast day, but everybody just called it St. Crispin’s Day for short.

“And Danny invited us back.”

“Say what?”

“St. Crispin’s Day, Tiny. October 25. The festival’s this Saturday.”

Lonnie Returns

Psst! Wanna have a good time? Sometimes special days are a little TOO special. Spend a year with Southern Indiana Writers in their Holiday Bizarre.

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A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Write about a character returning to a childhood place and celebration.


MomGoth’s Clementine #Caturday

Sweetie PieSweetie Pie Turner here.

MomGoth got so lonely for a furbaby, she ordered one over the internet — or, as I call them, the catertubes. She named her Clementine, and calls her Tiny for short.

MomGoth’s Clementine

Clementine awake(I’m posting today in sepia in honor of my new doggie friends, Livvie, Kessie, and Twinkie, who explore Sepia Saturday every week.)
She runs on batteries. The cat, I mean, not MomGoth. MomGoth runs on chocolate and milk stout.

When MomGoth pushes a button, Clementine wags her rear end, closes and opens her eyes, and mews. After doing this a few times, she closes her eyes and purrs a few times and goes to sleep.Clementine sleepingMomGoth brought her down to meet me, but I didn’t like her. Still, if she helps MomGoth deal with not having a cat to live with, I guess she’s all right.

But this — this — is a cat. Am I right?not ClementineA WRITING PROMPT FOR ANIMALS: What would you do if your human brought in a mechanical brother or sister for you?


A Blog Or Three To You From Me

That was a little poem up there in the subject line, as a tribute to Ogden Nash and the blog — named, as The Master would have approved, Blogden Nash — run by Nash aficionado “John.” Lovely blog, and welcome catalog of Nash poems. I’ve honored The Master, myself, in this poem about a Christmas tradition my husband swears is imaginary but is not.

If you haven’t trailed new commenter Dan Antion back to his lair, you’re missing a treat. No Facilities is a must-not-miss, especially this post about two kinds of people. Dan, there are two kinds of people: the kind who finish what they start.

I have a new obsession: the art of Abigail Larson. She warms the cockles of this MomGoth’s heart. I’m especially charmed by this Scary Kid illo.

Oh–one more thing: Come to my church tonight, if you’re in the neighborhood, to hear some stories from Philip Gulley, Quaker preacher and storyteller. $15 a pop, and cheap at the price. There will be snacks.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Pick a “two-kinds-of-people” joke and write a story about them.


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