Scarecrow and Mrs. King Challenge Stories
The Challenge: Write a story that includes the words: SILK, KISS, PULSE, RIBBON, CURLS. And to add to the challenge, the story takes place during the THIRD SEASON.
This one-shot takes place during "All The World's A Stage."
"Interruptions"
Amanda King sat at her partner’s desk typing up a report that was due to Billy in less than half an hour. Her fingers on the keys stilled as she stopped to replace the typewriter ribbon. Opening the drawers in search for a new ribbon, she let her mind wander, contemplating the events that had unfolded the last few months between her and Lee.
If anything, Lee Stetson was a walking contradiction. Amanda was confused about this complex puzzle of a man. A date to the opera, roses in the Q-Bureau, dinner at his apartment with no ‘shop talk’, a near kiss in the swamp only to be followed by the ‘just two people seeking a little warmth’ speech. She gave herself a mental shake. Yes, a walking contradiction was right.
Yet, they both seemed to be seeking more than just friendship, but what she was not sure.
Daydreaming, she wondered what it would be like to feel his warm embrace, to kiss him, to feel his fingers running through her curls, to breathe in the scent of his aftershave, the feel on her arms wrapped around his neck, to run her hands through his hair. She had no doubt his hair would feel like silk.
Just the thought of those things made her pulse quicken.
Fingering the heart pendant on her necklace, she gave her head a shake and wondered if they were ever going to get it right. Whether it was Peter Sacker’s men shooting at them, her mother coming home too soon, or Francine walking in on them; except for that sweet little peck at the backdoor a couple of weeks ago, they never seemed to be able to catch a break.
Yes, she and Lee had a lot to talk about. She was tired of the interruptions and if he did not do something soon, she had made up her mind, she would.
This one-shot takes place during "All The World's A Stage."
"Interruptions"
Amanda King sat at her partner’s desk typing up a report that was due to Billy in less than half an hour. Her fingers on the keys stilled as she stopped to replace the typewriter ribbon. Opening the drawers in search for a new ribbon, she let her mind wander, contemplating the events that had unfolded the last few months between her and Lee.
If anything, Lee Stetson was a walking contradiction. Amanda was confused about this complex puzzle of a man. A date to the opera, roses in the Q-Bureau, dinner at his apartment with no ‘shop talk’, a near kiss in the swamp only to be followed by the ‘just two people seeking a little warmth’ speech. She gave herself a mental shake. Yes, a walking contradiction was right.
Yet, they both seemed to be seeking more than just friendship, but what she was not sure.
Daydreaming, she wondered what it would be like to feel his warm embrace, to kiss him, to feel his fingers running through her curls, to breathe in the scent of his aftershave, the feel on her arms wrapped around his neck, to run her hands through his hair. She had no doubt his hair would feel like silk.
Just the thought of those things made her pulse quicken.
Fingering the heart pendant on her necklace, she gave her head a shake and wondered if they were ever going to get it right. Whether it was Peter Sacker’s men shooting at them, her mother coming home too soon, or Francine walking in on them; except for that sweet little peck at the backdoor a couple of weeks ago, they never seemed to be able to catch a break.
Yes, she and Lee had a lot to talk about. She was tired of the interruptions and if he did not do something soon, she had made up her mind, she would.
The Challenge: Write a story that includes the words: MONUMENT, FREEZE, METRO, CLIMAX, WORK. And to add to the challenge, you must also include the following scenario: Your story must include at least one scene that takes place within the Agency.
"New Beginnings"
The cool, crisp late October day brought promise of freezing temperatures to the greater Washington, D.C. metro and surrounding areas. While on a park bench, near the Jefferson Memorial, a couple sat huddled together watching their young son throw rocks into the Tidal Basin. The wind blew cold and steady.
A young, handsome, well-dressed man approached them, sticking out his gloved hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Stetson, thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”
“What can we help you with Harry?” The man asked, returning the handshake.
“Always straight to the point, Stetson. I like that in an agent.”
“Harry, as you well know, my wife and I are no longer agents.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets trying to keep them warm.
“Harry—” He exhaled; his breath hung in the cold air.
“Hear me out, Matt.”
Matthew looked over to his wife Jennie, who shrugged her shoulders while continuing to keep a watchful eye on their son. “Okay, Harry.”
“I would like to open a new counterintelligence organization, a kind of ultra-secret government agency to stop the spread of communism and protect our interests here and abroad.”
“Lee, Sweetheart, you’re getting too close to the water's edge,” Jennie called out, before turning her attention back to Harry.
“I’m still looking for Congressional approval to start building the Agency. That’s what we’re going to call it. I was wondering if you could accompany me on a short drive to Georgetown?”
Matthew looked over to his wife.
In a soft British accent, she replied, “It’s starting to get too cold out here for Lee anyway.”
“Okay, Harry,” Matthew relented. “Lead the way, we’ll follow you.”
*****
Climbing out of their 1953 Chevrolet Bel-Air sedan, the Stetsons followed Harry up the pathway to a large brick building.
“Welcome to IFF.” Harry opened the door, and waited for the Stetsons to cross the threshold, before joining them. “It’s a government surplus building. I know it’s not much to look at, but the price was right.”
“IFF?” Matthew asked curiously, as he surveyed the sparse room. The floor was cluttered with old newspapers and other bits of paper.
“That’s the cover for the Agency. I know it’s somewhat anti-climactic. The acronym stands for International Film Fed. To the general public we make documentary films for the government.”
Lee let go of his mom’s hand and climbed the stairs, clumping his boots as loud as he could against the hardwood planks.
“Can you be a little quieter going up those stairs, Son? Mummy and Daddy need to talk to Harry.”
Halfheartedly, Lee nodded his head. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Here are the plans for the building.” Harry took the plans out of a round cylinder tube and placed them on a desk in the center of the room. “There will be offices upstairs, but my plan is to build a state-of-the-art underground facility, eleven floors with top-of-the-line security systems, the whole nine-yards. I know it will need a lot of work. It’s going to be a few years before everything is set, but I want the best facility money can buy. I also plan to hire the best agents I can find from the FBI, CIA, State Department, Army Intelligence, and MI-6. I want the best of the best. That’s why I’m asking you to come out of retirement. I want both of you on my team.”
Matthew and Jennie exchanged glances, before Matthew asked, “Harry can we have a moment to discuss this in private?”
“Of course. There are offices upstairs. You are welcome to use one of them. I’ll keep an eye on Lee.”
They went up the stairs. Lee was standing at the top of the landing, staring at the banister.
“Lee,” Matthew said in a stern voice. “I know what you are thinking, and the answer is no. I don’t think that banister is sturdy enough for you to slide down. Your mummy and I are going to go talk for a moment, so you stay here with Harry. We’ll be right down.”
Lee gave a small nod, and then came down the stairs, walking over to Harry. “Bang!” he shouted. “You’re dead.”
Harry played along, grabbing his chest. “Ohhhh, you got me. That’s quite the weapon you got there, Son. What is it?”
“It’s a Tombstone Fanner." He twirled his trusty gun around his trigger finger, before placing it in his belt holster. "I got it for Christmas last year, but you know what I’m going to ask Santa for this year?”
“No, Lee. What?”
“A puppy.” Deep dimples appeared on his cheeks.
“A puppy. What a grand idea.” Harry put his hand on Lee’s shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah, but I also wouldn’t mind a little brother or sister neither.”
Harry chuckled, amused by the young lad.
After Matthew and Jennie came back down the stairs, Matthew picked up Lee and held him in his arms. “Harry, we have made up our minds. Yes, we will work for you, but only if we can work together.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Harry affirmed.
“So, us being married will not be an issue?” Matthew asked him.
"No, Matt. As long as I’m Head of the Agency married couples can be partners, as long as they remain effective partners.”
Matthew gave a sideways glance to Jennie, who gave a slight nod of her head. "Okay, Harry you have yourself a deal.” He grasped Harry’s hand, shaking it firmly. Then Matthew hugged Lee tight, and with his free hand, he put his arm around Jennie leading his family out of the building.
"New Beginnings"
The cool, crisp late October day brought promise of freezing temperatures to the greater Washington, D.C. metro and surrounding areas. While on a park bench, near the Jefferson Memorial, a couple sat huddled together watching their young son throw rocks into the Tidal Basin. The wind blew cold and steady.
A young, handsome, well-dressed man approached them, sticking out his gloved hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Stetson, thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”
“What can we help you with Harry?” The man asked, returning the handshake.
“Always straight to the point, Stetson. I like that in an agent.”
“Harry, as you well know, my wife and I are no longer agents.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets trying to keep them warm.
“Harry—” He exhaled; his breath hung in the cold air.
“Hear me out, Matt.”
Matthew looked over to his wife Jennie, who shrugged her shoulders while continuing to keep a watchful eye on their son. “Okay, Harry.”
“I would like to open a new counterintelligence organization, a kind of ultra-secret government agency to stop the spread of communism and protect our interests here and abroad.”
“Lee, Sweetheart, you’re getting too close to the water's edge,” Jennie called out, before turning her attention back to Harry.
“I’m still looking for Congressional approval to start building the Agency. That’s what we’re going to call it. I was wondering if you could accompany me on a short drive to Georgetown?”
Matthew looked over to his wife.
In a soft British accent, she replied, “It’s starting to get too cold out here for Lee anyway.”
“Okay, Harry,” Matthew relented. “Lead the way, we’ll follow you.”
*****
Climbing out of their 1953 Chevrolet Bel-Air sedan, the Stetsons followed Harry up the pathway to a large brick building.
“Welcome to IFF.” Harry opened the door, and waited for the Stetsons to cross the threshold, before joining them. “It’s a government surplus building. I know it’s not much to look at, but the price was right.”
“IFF?” Matthew asked curiously, as he surveyed the sparse room. The floor was cluttered with old newspapers and other bits of paper.
“That’s the cover for the Agency. I know it’s somewhat anti-climactic. The acronym stands for International Film Fed. To the general public we make documentary films for the government.”
Lee let go of his mom’s hand and climbed the stairs, clumping his boots as loud as he could against the hardwood planks.
“Can you be a little quieter going up those stairs, Son? Mummy and Daddy need to talk to Harry.”
Halfheartedly, Lee nodded his head. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Here are the plans for the building.” Harry took the plans out of a round cylinder tube and placed them on a desk in the center of the room. “There will be offices upstairs, but my plan is to build a state-of-the-art underground facility, eleven floors with top-of-the-line security systems, the whole nine-yards. I know it will need a lot of work. It’s going to be a few years before everything is set, but I want the best facility money can buy. I also plan to hire the best agents I can find from the FBI, CIA, State Department, Army Intelligence, and MI-6. I want the best of the best. That’s why I’m asking you to come out of retirement. I want both of you on my team.”
Matthew and Jennie exchanged glances, before Matthew asked, “Harry can we have a moment to discuss this in private?”
“Of course. There are offices upstairs. You are welcome to use one of them. I’ll keep an eye on Lee.”
They went up the stairs. Lee was standing at the top of the landing, staring at the banister.
“Lee,” Matthew said in a stern voice. “I know what you are thinking, and the answer is no. I don’t think that banister is sturdy enough for you to slide down. Your mummy and I are going to go talk for a moment, so you stay here with Harry. We’ll be right down.”
Lee gave a small nod, and then came down the stairs, walking over to Harry. “Bang!” he shouted. “You’re dead.”
Harry played along, grabbing his chest. “Ohhhh, you got me. That’s quite the weapon you got there, Son. What is it?”
“It’s a Tombstone Fanner." He twirled his trusty gun around his trigger finger, before placing it in his belt holster. "I got it for Christmas last year, but you know what I’m going to ask Santa for this year?”
“No, Lee. What?”
“A puppy.” Deep dimples appeared on his cheeks.
“A puppy. What a grand idea.” Harry put his hand on Lee’s shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah, but I also wouldn’t mind a little brother or sister neither.”
Harry chuckled, amused by the young lad.
After Matthew and Jennie came back down the stairs, Matthew picked up Lee and held him in his arms. “Harry, we have made up our minds. Yes, we will work for you, but only if we can work together.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Harry affirmed.
“So, us being married will not be an issue?” Matthew asked him.
"No, Matt. As long as I’m Head of the Agency married couples can be partners, as long as they remain effective partners.”
Matthew gave a sideways glance to Jennie, who gave a slight nod of her head. "Okay, Harry you have yourself a deal.” He grasped Harry’s hand, shaking it firmly. Then Matthew hugged Lee tight, and with his free hand, he put his arm around Jennie leading his family out of the building.
The Challenge: Write a story that includes the words: MONUMENT, FREEZE, METRO, CLIMAX, WORK. And to add to the challenge, you must also include the following scenario: Your story must include at least one scene that takes place within the Agency.
Thanks A LOT (tongue in cheek) to Sue—who suggested Lee experiencing Déjà vu the first time he climbed the Agency stairs. Dang her! Second challenge response.
"Echoes From the Past"
Lee Stetson parked his 1963 Porsche 9350 in front of 1565 Constitution Avenue NW in Georgetown. He took notice of the gold-colored plaque out front, reading International Film Fed, and knew he had the correct place. Climbing out of his car, he walked down the pathway, opened the door and entered the large brick building.
Entering the foyer, the first thing he observed was a middle-aged woman, wearing glasses, with her hair up in a twisted top bun, sitting at a desk in the center of the room. “Good morning,” she greeted him warmly. "May I help you?”
“Yes, my name is Lee Stetson. I have an appointment with Harry V. Thornton.”
”Just a moment Mr. Stetson. I will inform Mr. Thornton you are here. Please have a seat.” She picked up the receiver of a phone and dialed a number.
Lee sat down in one of the wooden chairs leaning against the far wall. He glanced around the sparse office, running his hand through his hair. On the wall were various paintings; George Washington crossing the Delaware, a painting of the Washington Monument, and even a portrait of President Richard Nixon. In the corner, was a fake ficus plant, while white lace curtains covered the windows. A moment later a stout, well-dressed man, with a touch of gray in his hair, came out of what Lee had thought was the coat closet. Lee raised a curious eyebrow.
The man walked over to Lee, extending his hand. “Mr. Stetson. Harry V. Thornton, so glad you could make it. Shall we go upstairs?”
“Yes, Sir.” Lee replied, still confused by what was going on.
Harry went up the stairs and Lee followed behind him. Lee’s dress shoes clicked on the hardwood steps. Halfway up the stairs, Lee looked over at the banister and stopped suddenly. 'I know what you are thinking, and the answer is no. I don’t think that banister is sturdy enough for you to slide down,' Lee heard a voice echo in his mind.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Did you say something?” Lee asked perplexed.
Harry turned around to face him. “No Lee, I didn’t say anything. But if I was thirty-years younger I bet that banister would be fun to slide down.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, I bet that would be a great banister to slide down.”
“I guess.” Lee shook his head, trying to shake the cobwebs out.
They walked down the hallway past a room labeled "Film Library" and entered the following room on the left.
Inside the room was a small conference table and four wooden chairs. “Please take a seat, Lee.”
“Thank you.” Lee sat down after Harry took his seat. “I’m sorry, Sir, but you seem familiar to me. Have we met?”
“Please, Lee, it's Harry. No need to stand on formalities here.”
“Okay, Sir—I mean Harry.”
“We’ve been observing you for quite some time.”
Lee looked over at Harry, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. He squirmed in his seat.
Harry opened a dossier, scanning the information inside. “I see your father was Military Intelligence.”
“That is correct, Sir.”
Harry continued, “Raised by your uncle, who is now a Colonel for the U.S. Air Force. Spent some time in Cherbourg, Guam, and the Sahara, and I understand you’re fluent in French.”
Squaring his shoulders, Lee then gave a firm nod. "Dutch, too."
“Several impressive colleges here, Lee. I see you finally graduated from George Washington. Majored in Political Science. Good.”
Lee nodded his head again.
“Two tours of duty in Vietnam, the distinguished Medal of Honor. Yes, quite the impressive service record.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I really don’t like talking about my past. I did my duty for God and my country, and I like to keep the past behind me where it belongs. This interview will continue when hell freezes over,” Lee said, agitated. Pushing back from his chair, he stood up, getting ready to leave.
“Lee, wait just one moment. I promise I will answer all your questions. Now, please sit down.”
Lee stood at the edge of the table, crossing his arms in front of his chest, defensively. “No, first I would like to know how the hell you know all of this about me if you are just a film company, which I seriously doubt you are.”
“You are correct. You have good observation skills. This is not a film company. IFF is a front for what we really do. To the general public we make documentary films, but in reality, we are a counterintelligence organization known as the Agency.”
Lee’s eyes grew large, as he slowly sat back down. “Are you telling me you’re a spy?”
“We don’t use the word spy; we prefer intelligence operative. But yes, I am a spy. Here at the Agency, we gather intelligence for the purpose of national security and defense. The Cold War continues to build tension between NATO and the Eastern bloc countries until one day it will all reach a shattering climax. We are the eyes and ears of the intelligence community and I would like you to be a part of my team. I want the—”
“. . . best of the best,” Lee finished the sentence.
“Yes. I believe you have the skills necessary to become a good agent. You are hardworking, patriotic, intelligent, and I believe you would be a great asset to our organization. So, what kind of weapon are you carrying today, Lee?”
Bang! — Tombstone Fanner, Lee thought. What the hell!? 'Why did that cross my mind?' Bewildered, he shook his head again. “I carry a Beretta. I have a permit for it.”
“Good sidearm.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Well Lee, I think I know everything I need to know about you and I like what I see. Do you have any questions for me?” He closed the file and placed his hands on the desk in front of him.
Lee stood up, pacing the room back and forth. He then stopped and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Would I be working here in D.C.?”
“Yes, most of your assignments would revolve around the greater D.C. metro area, but you could be called away on an assignment overseas occasionally.”
He rocked back on his heels and then nodded, firmly.
“Good. Then the next step is special training at Station One, which I have no doubt you will pass with flying colors. There are courses in hand-to hand combat, physical endurance, weapons training, driving skills, and then finally Dodge City. I would like you to report to Station One next Monday. Welcome aboard, Son.” Harry vigorously shook Lee’s hand.
A moment later, Lee walked out the door of the film library and down the stairs.
Watching Lee leave through the Georgetown entrance, Harry was reminded of the last time he had seen Lee in the arms of his father. “You would be proud of him, Matt. He turned out to be a fine man.” Harry smiled contentedly. “And I have a feeling he’s going to be a hell of a good agent. Yes, a hell of a good agent.”
Thanks A LOT (tongue in cheek) to Sue—who suggested Lee experiencing Déjà vu the first time he climbed the Agency stairs. Dang her! Second challenge response.
"Echoes From the Past"
Lee Stetson parked his 1963 Porsche 9350 in front of 1565 Constitution Avenue NW in Georgetown. He took notice of the gold-colored plaque out front, reading International Film Fed, and knew he had the correct place. Climbing out of his car, he walked down the pathway, opened the door and entered the large brick building.
Entering the foyer, the first thing he observed was a middle-aged woman, wearing glasses, with her hair up in a twisted top bun, sitting at a desk in the center of the room. “Good morning,” she greeted him warmly. "May I help you?”
“Yes, my name is Lee Stetson. I have an appointment with Harry V. Thornton.”
”Just a moment Mr. Stetson. I will inform Mr. Thornton you are here. Please have a seat.” She picked up the receiver of a phone and dialed a number.
Lee sat down in one of the wooden chairs leaning against the far wall. He glanced around the sparse office, running his hand through his hair. On the wall were various paintings; George Washington crossing the Delaware, a painting of the Washington Monument, and even a portrait of President Richard Nixon. In the corner, was a fake ficus plant, while white lace curtains covered the windows. A moment later a stout, well-dressed man, with a touch of gray in his hair, came out of what Lee had thought was the coat closet. Lee raised a curious eyebrow.
The man walked over to Lee, extending his hand. “Mr. Stetson. Harry V. Thornton, so glad you could make it. Shall we go upstairs?”
“Yes, Sir.” Lee replied, still confused by what was going on.
Harry went up the stairs and Lee followed behind him. Lee’s dress shoes clicked on the hardwood steps. Halfway up the stairs, Lee looked over at the banister and stopped suddenly. 'I know what you are thinking, and the answer is no. I don’t think that banister is sturdy enough for you to slide down,' Lee heard a voice echo in his mind.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Did you say something?” Lee asked perplexed.
Harry turned around to face him. “No Lee, I didn’t say anything. But if I was thirty-years younger I bet that banister would be fun to slide down.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, I bet that would be a great banister to slide down.”
“I guess.” Lee shook his head, trying to shake the cobwebs out.
They walked down the hallway past a room labeled "Film Library" and entered the following room on the left.
Inside the room was a small conference table and four wooden chairs. “Please take a seat, Lee.”
“Thank you.” Lee sat down after Harry took his seat. “I’m sorry, Sir, but you seem familiar to me. Have we met?”
“Please, Lee, it's Harry. No need to stand on formalities here.”
“Okay, Sir—I mean Harry.”
“We’ve been observing you for quite some time.”
Lee looked over at Harry, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. He squirmed in his seat.
Harry opened a dossier, scanning the information inside. “I see your father was Military Intelligence.”
“That is correct, Sir.”
Harry continued, “Raised by your uncle, who is now a Colonel for the U.S. Air Force. Spent some time in Cherbourg, Guam, and the Sahara, and I understand you’re fluent in French.”
Squaring his shoulders, Lee then gave a firm nod. "Dutch, too."
“Several impressive colleges here, Lee. I see you finally graduated from George Washington. Majored in Political Science. Good.”
Lee nodded his head again.
“Two tours of duty in Vietnam, the distinguished Medal of Honor. Yes, quite the impressive service record.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I really don’t like talking about my past. I did my duty for God and my country, and I like to keep the past behind me where it belongs. This interview will continue when hell freezes over,” Lee said, agitated. Pushing back from his chair, he stood up, getting ready to leave.
“Lee, wait just one moment. I promise I will answer all your questions. Now, please sit down.”
Lee stood at the edge of the table, crossing his arms in front of his chest, defensively. “No, first I would like to know how the hell you know all of this about me if you are just a film company, which I seriously doubt you are.”
“You are correct. You have good observation skills. This is not a film company. IFF is a front for what we really do. To the general public we make documentary films, but in reality, we are a counterintelligence organization known as the Agency.”
Lee’s eyes grew large, as he slowly sat back down. “Are you telling me you’re a spy?”
“We don’t use the word spy; we prefer intelligence operative. But yes, I am a spy. Here at the Agency, we gather intelligence for the purpose of national security and defense. The Cold War continues to build tension between NATO and the Eastern bloc countries until one day it will all reach a shattering climax. We are the eyes and ears of the intelligence community and I would like you to be a part of my team. I want the—”
“. . . best of the best,” Lee finished the sentence.
“Yes. I believe you have the skills necessary to become a good agent. You are hardworking, patriotic, intelligent, and I believe you would be a great asset to our organization. So, what kind of weapon are you carrying today, Lee?”
Bang! — Tombstone Fanner, Lee thought. What the hell!? 'Why did that cross my mind?' Bewildered, he shook his head again. “I carry a Beretta. I have a permit for it.”
“Good sidearm.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Well Lee, I think I know everything I need to know about you and I like what I see. Do you have any questions for me?” He closed the file and placed his hands on the desk in front of him.
Lee stood up, pacing the room back and forth. He then stopped and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Would I be working here in D.C.?”
“Yes, most of your assignments would revolve around the greater D.C. metro area, but you could be called away on an assignment overseas occasionally.”
He rocked back on his heels and then nodded, firmly.
“Good. Then the next step is special training at Station One, which I have no doubt you will pass with flying colors. There are courses in hand-to hand combat, physical endurance, weapons training, driving skills, and then finally Dodge City. I would like you to report to Station One next Monday. Welcome aboard, Son.” Harry vigorously shook Lee’s hand.
A moment later, Lee walked out the door of the film library and down the stairs.
Watching Lee leave through the Georgetown entrance, Harry was reminded of the last time he had seen Lee in the arms of his father. “You would be proud of him, Matt. He turned out to be a fine man.” Harry smiled contentedly. “And I have a feeling he’s going to be a hell of a good agent. Yes, a hell of a good agent.”
The Challenge: Write a story that includes the words: CASTLE, HORSE, AWARD, PHOTOGRAPH, SNOW.
A little tag extension for "The Legend of Das Geisterschloss."
Lee slid into the seat next to Amanda. He sat there for a moment with his hands firmly clasped behind his head. Then slightly turning his head, he saw Amanda smiling back at him.
“It’s really nice of you doing this for me, Lee,” she gushed as her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.
“Hey, no problem.”
“No, really Lee, I know I've already said this, but thank you for taking me on this tour.”
He shrugged lightly. “What are friends for?”
“You know I love The Sound of Music. I’ve seen it. . .”
“. . . seven times. Yes, Amanda, you’ve told me.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, Lee. You know it's my absolute favorite movie, and I’d just never forgive myself if I left Salzburg without seeing some of the filming locations,” she rambled excitedly. “Have you ever done this tour before?”
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I can honestly say no.”
“You’re going to love it. I was reading the brochure back at the hotel; we’ll be seeing the Nonnberg Abbey, Leopoldskron castle, the lake district, the wedding church in Mondsee, and the snow-covered Alps where they filmed the opening sequence of the movie.”
“Yes Amanda, I know," he answered dryly.
“Lee. . . "
He turned his body more toward her, putting his arms down to his side. Then watched her place her hand on his arm.
"Thank you,” she repeated. They both looked at where she has placed her hand. Quickly she removed her hand, before turning away. She felt her cheeks burn red, as she stared out the side window, watching a horse drawn carriage pass by the bus.
Lee cleared his throat. “Actually, Amanda, it’s me who should be thanking you. You figured out the clue’s Emily left in her drawings.”
“Really it was nothing," Amanda remarked with a shrug.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at him. “No, Amanda, you’re wrong. You were a big help on this case and you figured out a way for us to get out of the room before that bomb went off.”
“I like Mrs. Farnsworth and I was glad to be able to help you on this case.”
Lee shook his head and chuckled, amused.
“Did you know The Sound of Music won the Academy award for best picture?”
“Ohhh, Amanda,” he groaned, as he rolled his eyes.
“Sorry, I know. . . you know.” She sighed as the tour bus pulled away from the plaza. “Salzburg is such a beautiful city. I hope at least one photograph turns out.”
“If not, you can always go home with postcards.” He smiled knowingly at Amanda.
She shook her head; her eyes laughing back at him.
A little tag extension for "The Legend of Das Geisterschloss."
Lee slid into the seat next to Amanda. He sat there for a moment with his hands firmly clasped behind his head. Then slightly turning his head, he saw Amanda smiling back at him.
“It’s really nice of you doing this for me, Lee,” she gushed as her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.
“Hey, no problem.”
“No, really Lee, I know I've already said this, but thank you for taking me on this tour.”
He shrugged lightly. “What are friends for?”
“You know I love The Sound of Music. I’ve seen it. . .”
“. . . seven times. Yes, Amanda, you’ve told me.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, Lee. You know it's my absolute favorite movie, and I’d just never forgive myself if I left Salzburg without seeing some of the filming locations,” she rambled excitedly. “Have you ever done this tour before?”
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I can honestly say no.”
“You’re going to love it. I was reading the brochure back at the hotel; we’ll be seeing the Nonnberg Abbey, Leopoldskron castle, the lake district, the wedding church in Mondsee, and the snow-covered Alps where they filmed the opening sequence of the movie.”
“Yes Amanda, I know," he answered dryly.
“Lee. . . "
He turned his body more toward her, putting his arms down to his side. Then watched her place her hand on his arm.
"Thank you,” she repeated. They both looked at where she has placed her hand. Quickly she removed her hand, before turning away. She felt her cheeks burn red, as she stared out the side window, watching a horse drawn carriage pass by the bus.
Lee cleared his throat. “Actually, Amanda, it’s me who should be thanking you. You figured out the clue’s Emily left in her drawings.”
“Really it was nothing," Amanda remarked with a shrug.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at him. “No, Amanda, you’re wrong. You were a big help on this case and you figured out a way for us to get out of the room before that bomb went off.”
“I like Mrs. Farnsworth and I was glad to be able to help you on this case.”
Lee shook his head and chuckled, amused.
“Did you know The Sound of Music won the Academy award for best picture?”
“Ohhh, Amanda,” he groaned, as he rolled his eyes.
“Sorry, I know. . . you know.” She sighed as the tour bus pulled away from the plaza. “Salzburg is such a beautiful city. I hope at least one photograph turns out.”
“If not, you can always go home with postcards.” He smiled knowingly at Amanda.
She shook her head; her eyes laughing back at him.
The Challenge: Write a story that includes the words: TREE, JEANS, BATHROBE, CANDLE, DIMPLES.
"Christmas Present"
4247 Maplewood Drive
Thursday, Dec 20, 1990
7:00 AM
“Morning, T.P. What are you doing over here this early?” Lee asked the man standing at his front door. Then tightening the sash on his bathrobe, he opened the door further, inviting him to come in.
“Lee, my boy, just coming by with some gifts for the family.” TP shook snow off his shoulders, as he stepped inside and then held up the bright colored packages in his arms. “I’m headed off to attend the annual Victorian Country Christmas Festival and I wanted to stop by and drop these off before I left.”
“T.P. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, Lee. But I consider you and Amanda family. Speaking of Amanda, is she up? I would like to say ‘hello’ to her, too.”
“She’s upstairs getting Emily dressed.”
“Ah, and how is my grandniece?” T.P. queried, cheerfully.
“Growing like a weed.” Lee answered with a growing smile. “She’s already pulling herself up and taking little baby steps while holding onto the furniture.” He beamed, then gestured toward the family room. “Why don’t you come into the family room and put the gifts under the tree. Give me a moment to change and be right down with Amanda.” After leading him into the room, Lee went back upstairs.
T.P. placed the gifts under the seven-foot-tall Christmas tree. The Blue Noble Fir tree was decorated with shiny ornaments and white holiday lights that twinkled on and off. T.P. walked over the fireplace mantel, which was covered in Christmas garland and bright red candles. After taking off his hat and gloves, he placed them inside his coat pocket, and then picked up a silver frame containing a photo of Lee and Amanda’s public wedding. He smiled warmly, remembering that day fondly.
Lee came back down the stairs dressed in jeans and a wool cable sweater. Amanda came down a second later holding a squirming nine-month-old baby on her hip. “T.P.,” she said kissing him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Stetson.” T.P. grinned in delight. “I put the presents under your lovely tree, but I wanted our boy to open his a little early.” He handed Lee a package.
“Wow, this is heavy.” Lee ripped into the wrapping paper and opened the lip to the box. He then pulled out a large chunk of concrete. Lee looked at it perplexed.
Noticing Lee’s confusion, T.P. explained, “I have a distant cousin who lives in Berlin and I asked him to mail that to me. Do you know what that is?”
Lee shook his head and responded with a puzzled, "No."
“Think back—you were there about a year ago, witnessing history. I thought you would like a souvenir of that occasion. It’s a piece of the Berlin Wall.”
“Wow!” Lee exclaimed, shaking the older man's hand firmly. “Thanks!”
“T.P., would you like to stay for breakfast?” Amanda asked the Antiquarian, shifting the weight of the baby on her hip.
“Thanks for the offer, Amanda, but I really must dash. Goodbye, Lee and Amanda, and have a Merry Christmas.”
They both walked T.P. to the front door. “Drive safe and Merry Christmas,” Amanda added affectingly.
“Oh, and Amanda, continue to keep this one,” he said, pointing to Lee, “out of trouble.” He managed a grin, as he pulled on his hat and gloves.
Lee smiled back, his dimples deepening. T.P. then saw his friend put one arm around his wife's shoulder. “Merry Christmas, T.P. and again, thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Lee.” Then adjusting his scarf around his neck, he pulled his long, wool coat more snugly around him, as he walked back toward his car.
"Christmas Present"
4247 Maplewood Drive
Thursday, Dec 20, 1990
7:00 AM
“Morning, T.P. What are you doing over here this early?” Lee asked the man standing at his front door. Then tightening the sash on his bathrobe, he opened the door further, inviting him to come in.
“Lee, my boy, just coming by with some gifts for the family.” TP shook snow off his shoulders, as he stepped inside and then held up the bright colored packages in his arms. “I’m headed off to attend the annual Victorian Country Christmas Festival and I wanted to stop by and drop these off before I left.”
“T.P. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, Lee. But I consider you and Amanda family. Speaking of Amanda, is she up? I would like to say ‘hello’ to her, too.”
“She’s upstairs getting Emily dressed.”
“Ah, and how is my grandniece?” T.P. queried, cheerfully.
“Growing like a weed.” Lee answered with a growing smile. “She’s already pulling herself up and taking little baby steps while holding onto the furniture.” He beamed, then gestured toward the family room. “Why don’t you come into the family room and put the gifts under the tree. Give me a moment to change and be right down with Amanda.” After leading him into the room, Lee went back upstairs.
T.P. placed the gifts under the seven-foot-tall Christmas tree. The Blue Noble Fir tree was decorated with shiny ornaments and white holiday lights that twinkled on and off. T.P. walked over the fireplace mantel, which was covered in Christmas garland and bright red candles. After taking off his hat and gloves, he placed them inside his coat pocket, and then picked up a silver frame containing a photo of Lee and Amanda’s public wedding. He smiled warmly, remembering that day fondly.
Lee came back down the stairs dressed in jeans and a wool cable sweater. Amanda came down a second later holding a squirming nine-month-old baby on her hip. “T.P.,” she said kissing him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Stetson.” T.P. grinned in delight. “I put the presents under your lovely tree, but I wanted our boy to open his a little early.” He handed Lee a package.
“Wow, this is heavy.” Lee ripped into the wrapping paper and opened the lip to the box. He then pulled out a large chunk of concrete. Lee looked at it perplexed.
Noticing Lee’s confusion, T.P. explained, “I have a distant cousin who lives in Berlin and I asked him to mail that to me. Do you know what that is?”
Lee shook his head and responded with a puzzled, "No."
“Think back—you were there about a year ago, witnessing history. I thought you would like a souvenir of that occasion. It’s a piece of the Berlin Wall.”
“Wow!” Lee exclaimed, shaking the older man's hand firmly. “Thanks!”
“T.P., would you like to stay for breakfast?” Amanda asked the Antiquarian, shifting the weight of the baby on her hip.
“Thanks for the offer, Amanda, but I really must dash. Goodbye, Lee and Amanda, and have a Merry Christmas.”
They both walked T.P. to the front door. “Drive safe and Merry Christmas,” Amanda added affectingly.
“Oh, and Amanda, continue to keep this one,” he said, pointing to Lee, “out of trouble.” He managed a grin, as he pulled on his hat and gloves.
Lee smiled back, his dimples deepening. T.P. then saw his friend put one arm around his wife's shoulder. “Merry Christmas, T.P. and again, thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Lee.” Then adjusting his scarf around his neck, he pulled his long, wool coat more snugly around him, as he walked back toward his car.
An unpublished challenge story that included the line; “Whatever were you thinking?”
"Whatever Were You Thinking"
Amanda stood over the kitchen island preparing a garden salad to compliment the Thanksgiving meal the Stetson-King family would later share, when Phillip came through the kitchen door, carrying a football. He slammed the door shut. Jamie opened the door a moment later.
“Thanks a lot. You knew I was right behind you,” snapped Jamie, closing the door behind him, unaware it had not latched properly.
“Shut up. Shut up. SHUT up!”
“Fellas, what’s going on?” Amanda asked, trying to take control of the situation. She continued to mix the lettuce greens, tomatoes, and cucumbers with salad utensils.
“It’s not my fault he’s stupid.”
“Jamie, do not call your brother stupid. Okay, what’s going on between you two?” She placed the utensils down on the counter and looked sternly at them both.
“I mean it—SHUT UP, JERK!”
“Boys!” Amanda exclaimed. She rolled her eyes heavenward and silently counted to ten. “Why are you fighting?”
“Because they’re brothers,” Dotty said. She grabbed a pair of oven mitts, opened the oven door, and removed an apple and pumpkin pie, placing them on the cooling rack.
“Mother. You should talk. You and Aunt Lillian have been at each other’s throats ever since she arrived.”
“Well, that’s different. That woman can be so exasperating.”
“MOTHER!”
Dotty threw her hands up. “Well, she is.” She touched Amanda’s shoulders and gently squeezed them. “I’m sorry, Dear. I’m not helping the situation, am I?”
“Okay, Fellas, Mother, family meeting in the family room.”
Phillip shoved Jamie as they both fought for the sofa. Jamie punched his brother in the arm.
“No hitting your brother.” She pointed a finger at Jamie and then to Phillip. “Now, what’s this all about?”
Phillip looked at his grandmother and then his mother, and took in a deep breath. “I’m supposed to have you sign my last math test.”
Amanda nodded her head. “Okay.”
“I got a ‘D’ and Mr. Grant wants you to sign the test paper—so he knows you saw it,” he admitted, ashamedly.
Amanda looked at her mother and they both shook their heads in disbelief.
“Phillip,” Amanda sighed heavily. “Go get the test.”
Phillip walked over to the coat closet, took out his backpack, unzipped the zipper, and removed the test paper from his math book. Then he brought the sheet back to his mom.
Amanda studied the test for a few moments. “Did you think you were going to hide this from me?” Amanda asked him.
Lee had come down the stairs and leaning against the banister, he watched the scene before him.
“No.” Phillip studied the floor, shuffling his feet. “I was going to have Lee sign it.”
“Mm-huh.” She turned and exchanged a glance with Lee who shrugged. "Phillip Joseph King. Whatever were you thinking? Did you study? Do you need extra help? You can’t bring home grades like this—you’re going to be a senior next year and colleges want to see good grades. Well, it’s a good thing we have the extended weekend to work on this. You are going to correct all the problems you missed and bring the test back to your teacher on Monday. Okay?” She folded the test and tapped it on his chest.
Phillip reluctantly agreed. “Yes.”
“And Jamie. . .” Amanda started to say when they were interrupted by a loud crash in the kitchen.
“What the—” Lee questioned, heading toward the kitchen.
Dotty, Amanda, and the two boys came in behind him. There in the middle of the kitchen floor was the Ferguson’s St. Bernard, Nero, lapping up the pies. The contents had splashed all the floor and pumpkin filling spread over his face. He happily wagged his tail.
“My pies!” Dotty cried in horror.
“No, no, NO!” Amanda yelled at the dog. Nero looked up and licked his chops, then went back to gobbling up the pies. Lee grabbed the dog by the collar and shoved him out the door.
Turning around, he was surprised to see Dotty and Amanda laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know—but if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry and I’d rather laugh,” Amanda giggled, holding her sides. “But I’m going to need you to run to Zippy Mart and buy some pies. There’s not enough time to make another one.”
“Be right back,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. He grabbed his car keys off the key rack and headed out the door.
“Phillip and Jamie,” Dotty said, wiping the tears from her face. “Please, clean up this mess.”
“Why do I—” Phillip stopped mid-sentence, noticing the stern look on his grandmother’s face, he grabbed the mop.
Dotty touched Amanda slightly rounded abdomen, “Let’s hope this little one is a girl. Although, you were quite the precocious child yourself.”
“Mo-ther.” Amanda rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"Whatever Were You Thinking"
Amanda stood over the kitchen island preparing a garden salad to compliment the Thanksgiving meal the Stetson-King family would later share, when Phillip came through the kitchen door, carrying a football. He slammed the door shut. Jamie opened the door a moment later.
“Thanks a lot. You knew I was right behind you,” snapped Jamie, closing the door behind him, unaware it had not latched properly.
“Shut up. Shut up. SHUT up!”
“Fellas, what’s going on?” Amanda asked, trying to take control of the situation. She continued to mix the lettuce greens, tomatoes, and cucumbers with salad utensils.
“It’s not my fault he’s stupid.”
“Jamie, do not call your brother stupid. Okay, what’s going on between you two?” She placed the utensils down on the counter and looked sternly at them both.
“I mean it—SHUT UP, JERK!”
“Boys!” Amanda exclaimed. She rolled her eyes heavenward and silently counted to ten. “Why are you fighting?”
“Because they’re brothers,” Dotty said. She grabbed a pair of oven mitts, opened the oven door, and removed an apple and pumpkin pie, placing them on the cooling rack.
“Mother. You should talk. You and Aunt Lillian have been at each other’s throats ever since she arrived.”
“Well, that’s different. That woman can be so exasperating.”
“MOTHER!”
Dotty threw her hands up. “Well, she is.” She touched Amanda’s shoulders and gently squeezed them. “I’m sorry, Dear. I’m not helping the situation, am I?”
“Okay, Fellas, Mother, family meeting in the family room.”
Phillip shoved Jamie as they both fought for the sofa. Jamie punched his brother in the arm.
“No hitting your brother.” She pointed a finger at Jamie and then to Phillip. “Now, what’s this all about?”
Phillip looked at his grandmother and then his mother, and took in a deep breath. “I’m supposed to have you sign my last math test.”
Amanda nodded her head. “Okay.”
“I got a ‘D’ and Mr. Grant wants you to sign the test paper—so he knows you saw it,” he admitted, ashamedly.
Amanda looked at her mother and they both shook their heads in disbelief.
“Phillip,” Amanda sighed heavily. “Go get the test.”
Phillip walked over to the coat closet, took out his backpack, unzipped the zipper, and removed the test paper from his math book. Then he brought the sheet back to his mom.
Amanda studied the test for a few moments. “Did you think you were going to hide this from me?” Amanda asked him.
Lee had come down the stairs and leaning against the banister, he watched the scene before him.
“No.” Phillip studied the floor, shuffling his feet. “I was going to have Lee sign it.”
“Mm-huh.” She turned and exchanged a glance with Lee who shrugged. "Phillip Joseph King. Whatever were you thinking? Did you study? Do you need extra help? You can’t bring home grades like this—you’re going to be a senior next year and colleges want to see good grades. Well, it’s a good thing we have the extended weekend to work on this. You are going to correct all the problems you missed and bring the test back to your teacher on Monday. Okay?” She folded the test and tapped it on his chest.
Phillip reluctantly agreed. “Yes.”
“And Jamie. . .” Amanda started to say when they were interrupted by a loud crash in the kitchen.
“What the—” Lee questioned, heading toward the kitchen.
Dotty, Amanda, and the two boys came in behind him. There in the middle of the kitchen floor was the Ferguson’s St. Bernard, Nero, lapping up the pies. The contents had splashed all the floor and pumpkin filling spread over his face. He happily wagged his tail.
“My pies!” Dotty cried in horror.
“No, no, NO!” Amanda yelled at the dog. Nero looked up and licked his chops, then went back to gobbling up the pies. Lee grabbed the dog by the collar and shoved him out the door.
Turning around, he was surprised to see Dotty and Amanda laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know—but if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry and I’d rather laugh,” Amanda giggled, holding her sides. “But I’m going to need you to run to Zippy Mart and buy some pies. There’s not enough time to make another one.”
“Be right back,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. He grabbed his car keys off the key rack and headed out the door.
“Phillip and Jamie,” Dotty said, wiping the tears from her face. “Please, clean up this mess.”
“Why do I—” Phillip stopped mid-sentence, noticing the stern look on his grandmother’s face, he grabbed the mop.
Dotty touched Amanda slightly rounded abdomen, “Let’s hope this little one is a girl. Although, you were quite the precocious child yourself.”
“Mo-ther.” Amanda rolled her eyes and shook her head.
The Challenge: Write a story, which includes the words: NIGHTGOWN, GOOEY, SPOOKY, FAIR, CARDS.
A little tag extension to "Our Man in Tegernsee."
"Reflections"
Feeling the plane level off at cruising altitude, Lee Stetson unfolded his large frame as he tried to recline back in his seat, hoping to get comfortable for the long flight back to D.C. and maybe if he were lucky, he'd be able to catch a few winks.
He then leaned his head back, reflecting on the events of the past few days. Amanda had been on a simple courier assignment in Germany. All she had to do was deliver an envelope. He chuckled thinking what had unfolded instead. Only she could get herself arrested for passing counterfeit twenties. Never in recorded history had that happened before.
He shook his head, wondering how a simple housewife had gotten under his skin. It was downright spooky how one fateful October morning his life was changed by a woman wearing a nightgown. Amanda confused him, yet intrigued him too. She was like saltwater taffy—the more he pushed and pulled—the bigger, sticky-gooey mess she became. Yet, she was loyal and faithful to him. He thought about them walking down the streets in Tegernsee; she had shown more concern for his career and reputation then her plight, telling him, “It's just not fair.”
"Hey, whoever promised you fair?" he'd asked her.
"Nobody. I just keep expecting it," she'd mumbled.
Yes, that was his Amanda, always looking for the silver lining. She really was something. Once again, she proved to be invaluable and helped break-up the counterfeiting ring, fingering Harry.
Lee raked his hand through his hair and blew out his breath. Shaking his head again, he thought maybe one day he would figure her out, but for now he had other plans, and if he played his cards right next weekend he would be in the Poconos.
A little tag extension to "Our Man in Tegernsee."
"Reflections"
Feeling the plane level off at cruising altitude, Lee Stetson unfolded his large frame as he tried to recline back in his seat, hoping to get comfortable for the long flight back to D.C. and maybe if he were lucky, he'd be able to catch a few winks.
He then leaned his head back, reflecting on the events of the past few days. Amanda had been on a simple courier assignment in Germany. All she had to do was deliver an envelope. He chuckled thinking what had unfolded instead. Only she could get herself arrested for passing counterfeit twenties. Never in recorded history had that happened before.
He shook his head, wondering how a simple housewife had gotten under his skin. It was downright spooky how one fateful October morning his life was changed by a woman wearing a nightgown. Amanda confused him, yet intrigued him too. She was like saltwater taffy—the more he pushed and pulled—the bigger, sticky-gooey mess she became. Yet, she was loyal and faithful to him. He thought about them walking down the streets in Tegernsee; she had shown more concern for his career and reputation then her plight, telling him, “It's just not fair.”
"Hey, whoever promised you fair?" he'd asked her.
"Nobody. I just keep expecting it," she'd mumbled.
Yes, that was his Amanda, always looking for the silver lining. She really was something. Once again, she proved to be invaluable and helped break-up the counterfeiting ring, fingering Harry.
Lee raked his hand through his hair and blew out his breath. Shaking his head again, he thought maybe one day he would figure her out, but for now he had other plans, and if he played his cards right next weekend he would be in the Poconos.
The Challenge: Write a story, which includes the words: FINGERS, AUSTRALIA, SENSUOUS, MASSAGE OIL, BRAZILIAN WAX.
A little tag extension for "Sudden Death"
"Sudden Death" was written by Del Reisman & Tom Sawyer which aired on December 5, 1983.. The excerpts from the episode belong to them.
“You know, Amanda, sometimes you puzzle me,” Amanda heard her mother, Dotty West say. She whirled around and observed her mother taking a bowl of ice out of the freezer. “I mean this only in the most loving way,” her mother continued. “But last night, you didn't get home until morning. Then, Dear—you do get these rather odd phone calls, after which you go rushing out of the house. I mean—I'm sure it is perfectly innocent.”
“It is, Mother.” Amanda answered with a sigh.
“Bless you.” Dotty sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter, and then using her fingers, she tied a handkerchief around her eyes. “It's just that I get jittery because I—I’m thinking about my Uncle Iggy.”
Lee who stopped by Amanda's kitchen window with a bottle of champagne to celebrate the end of his 'illustrious football career' and had ducked when he first heard Dotty approach, now cautiously poked his head above the windowsill. He looked over at Dotty and noticed she was blindfolded and couldn’t observe them; slowly stood up with a flute in his hand.
“Uncle Iggy?” Amanda turned her head sideways to look at Lee.
“He was a brush salesman in Topeka. One day they found out he had joined a cult—he was becoming a wizard,” Dotty explained.
Amanda turned all the way to face Lee and grinned and he smiled back at her.
”Amanda, you're not Uncle Iggy. Imagine, you, leading a double life.” Dotty laughed out loud.
Lee tilted his glass towards Amanda and silently they clinked their glasses, then they each took a sip of champagne.
“Imagine, you!” Dotty continued. “I mean, that is a silly thought—Amanda? Amanda?”
“Yes, Mother," Amanda answered with a growing grin.
Lee winked at her. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of Dotty’s last statement.
“What’s Uncle Iggy up to now?” He heard Amanda ask her Mother.
“Oh, last I heard he opened a new shop in Australia.”
“A wizard shop?” Her brown eyes widened in surprise.
“No, can you imagine he opened a salon—in the Outback of all places. I mean, how many Bushmen do you know that are going to go in for sensuous massage oil rubs or Brazilian wax jobs?’ Dotty shook her head in disbelief. “Whatever was he thinking?”
Amanda shrugged her shoulders and smirked. “I don’t know, Mother.”
Well." Dotty pushed back from the counter and stood up. "I think I'm going to go back to my room and try to get some sleep. You be sure to turn out the lights and check the doors before you come upstairs," Dotty said, stumbling towards the stairs. She then added, “Goodnight, Dear.”
"I will. Goodnight, Mother."
Amanda shared another smile with Lee, as they continued to sip their champagne.
A little tag extension for "Sudden Death"
"Sudden Death" was written by Del Reisman & Tom Sawyer which aired on December 5, 1983.. The excerpts from the episode belong to them.
“You know, Amanda, sometimes you puzzle me,” Amanda heard her mother, Dotty West say. She whirled around and observed her mother taking a bowl of ice out of the freezer. “I mean this only in the most loving way,” her mother continued. “But last night, you didn't get home until morning. Then, Dear—you do get these rather odd phone calls, after which you go rushing out of the house. I mean—I'm sure it is perfectly innocent.”
“It is, Mother.” Amanda answered with a sigh.
“Bless you.” Dotty sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter, and then using her fingers, she tied a handkerchief around her eyes. “It's just that I get jittery because I—I’m thinking about my Uncle Iggy.”
Lee who stopped by Amanda's kitchen window with a bottle of champagne to celebrate the end of his 'illustrious football career' and had ducked when he first heard Dotty approach, now cautiously poked his head above the windowsill. He looked over at Dotty and noticed she was blindfolded and couldn’t observe them; slowly stood up with a flute in his hand.
“Uncle Iggy?” Amanda turned her head sideways to look at Lee.
“He was a brush salesman in Topeka. One day they found out he had joined a cult—he was becoming a wizard,” Dotty explained.
Amanda turned all the way to face Lee and grinned and he smiled back at her.
”Amanda, you're not Uncle Iggy. Imagine, you, leading a double life.” Dotty laughed out loud.
Lee tilted his glass towards Amanda and silently they clinked their glasses, then they each took a sip of champagne.
“Imagine, you!” Dotty continued. “I mean, that is a silly thought—Amanda? Amanda?”
“Yes, Mother," Amanda answered with a growing grin.
Lee winked at her. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of Dotty’s last statement.
“What’s Uncle Iggy up to now?” He heard Amanda ask her Mother.
“Oh, last I heard he opened a new shop in Australia.”
“A wizard shop?” Her brown eyes widened in surprise.
“No, can you imagine he opened a salon—in the Outback of all places. I mean, how many Bushmen do you know that are going to go in for sensuous massage oil rubs or Brazilian wax jobs?’ Dotty shook her head in disbelief. “Whatever was he thinking?”
Amanda shrugged her shoulders and smirked. “I don’t know, Mother.”
Well." Dotty pushed back from the counter and stood up. "I think I'm going to go back to my room and try to get some sleep. You be sure to turn out the lights and check the doors before you come upstairs," Dotty said, stumbling towards the stairs. She then added, “Goodnight, Dear.”
"I will. Goodnight, Mother."
Amanda shared another smile with Lee, as they continued to sip their champagne.
(Not a challenge story, but my very first attempt at fanfiction)
"Pinto"
Twelve-year-old Amanda Jean West loved her dog. He was always there for her and seemed to know the right time to wag his tail or give wet doggy kisses; he was her world and her best friend. The small brown and white speckled beagle was named Pinto. Amanda’s mother had named him that, because he looked like a small pinto bean. Pinto would stand at the dining room window overlooking the driveway, paws on the windowsill and would howl whenever Amanda left for school. The only thing that would stop his howling was blueberry pancakes. Her mother would make them as a special treat on Saturday morning and would give the leftovers to Pinto throughout the rest of the week. He would then take his pancakes and bury them in the backyard under an old oak tree.
Amanda was growing up. No longer a child, she was too old for dolls; but not quite a teenager either. She certainly wasn’t old enough for boys or makeup, and she no longer told her secrets to her rag doll, Lois Ann. Now, all her fantasies about dragons and secret agents were told to Pinto.
She also knew that Pinto was getting older. His muzzle, once brown, was turning grey. He had a hard time jumping onto her bed at night. She would pick him up and place him on her bed after she finished saying her prayers. Pinto was going blind, too. Just last week he had chased a cat and when the cat stopped, only inches from his face, he looked around wondering where the cat had disappeared. He was also going deaf and started to wander away from home. Those times when he disappeared Amanda worried he wouldn’t return home. She would fret and silently pray that Pinto was safe. On these nights, Amanda would wait for her dad to come home so he could help her locate her beloved Beagle. The two of them would walk the Arlington neighborhood hand in hand, calling, “Pinto, here Pinto.” Then Dad would whistle for him to come.
It was not uncommon for a kind neighbor to find Pinto and bring him inside their home, giving him a little water and sometimes some food. These nice neighbors would then call the number on his tag. Dotty would thank them and let her husband and Amanda know which neighbor had him, and soon Amanda would be reunited with her best friend again.
Then one cool, crisp November morning, Amanda came down the stairs only to find Pinto not waiting for her by the front door to be let out. “Mother, where’s Pinto?” she asked, concerned. Her mother did not reply, but gave her a large plate of waffles with strawberries and whipped cream and a tall glass of milk. After Amanda had finished eating her breakfast, her mother took Amanda’s hand and patted it gently, she said, “Panda, you know Pinto has gotten old and can no longer do the things he could do as a puppy.” Her mother tried to continue, but looking into her daughter’s trusting big brown eyes, she took a deep breath and replied, “Daddy took Pinto to your Uncle Chester’s farm in Vermont. Pinto needs room to run and there’s plenty of room to romp and play out in the country.”
Amanda played along. She knew her mother wanted to say and was trying to spare her from the pain and hurt and didn’t want her to worry. 'Yes,' she thought, 'growing up was hard.'
"Pinto"
Twelve-year-old Amanda Jean West loved her dog. He was always there for her and seemed to know the right time to wag his tail or give wet doggy kisses; he was her world and her best friend. The small brown and white speckled beagle was named Pinto. Amanda’s mother had named him that, because he looked like a small pinto bean. Pinto would stand at the dining room window overlooking the driveway, paws on the windowsill and would howl whenever Amanda left for school. The only thing that would stop his howling was blueberry pancakes. Her mother would make them as a special treat on Saturday morning and would give the leftovers to Pinto throughout the rest of the week. He would then take his pancakes and bury them in the backyard under an old oak tree.
Amanda was growing up. No longer a child, she was too old for dolls; but not quite a teenager either. She certainly wasn’t old enough for boys or makeup, and she no longer told her secrets to her rag doll, Lois Ann. Now, all her fantasies about dragons and secret agents were told to Pinto.
She also knew that Pinto was getting older. His muzzle, once brown, was turning grey. He had a hard time jumping onto her bed at night. She would pick him up and place him on her bed after she finished saying her prayers. Pinto was going blind, too. Just last week he had chased a cat and when the cat stopped, only inches from his face, he looked around wondering where the cat had disappeared. He was also going deaf and started to wander away from home. Those times when he disappeared Amanda worried he wouldn’t return home. She would fret and silently pray that Pinto was safe. On these nights, Amanda would wait for her dad to come home so he could help her locate her beloved Beagle. The two of them would walk the Arlington neighborhood hand in hand, calling, “Pinto, here Pinto.” Then Dad would whistle for him to come.
It was not uncommon for a kind neighbor to find Pinto and bring him inside their home, giving him a little water and sometimes some food. These nice neighbors would then call the number on his tag. Dotty would thank them and let her husband and Amanda know which neighbor had him, and soon Amanda would be reunited with her best friend again.
Then one cool, crisp November morning, Amanda came down the stairs only to find Pinto not waiting for her by the front door to be let out. “Mother, where’s Pinto?” she asked, concerned. Her mother did not reply, but gave her a large plate of waffles with strawberries and whipped cream and a tall glass of milk. After Amanda had finished eating her breakfast, her mother took Amanda’s hand and patted it gently, she said, “Panda, you know Pinto has gotten old and can no longer do the things he could do as a puppy.” Her mother tried to continue, but looking into her daughter’s trusting big brown eyes, she took a deep breath and replied, “Daddy took Pinto to your Uncle Chester’s farm in Vermont. Pinto needs room to run and there’s plenty of room to romp and play out in the country.”
Amanda played along. She knew her mother wanted to say and was trying to spare her from the pain and hurt and didn’t want her to worry. 'Yes,' she thought, 'growing up was hard.'
