I am MOJITO!

I have to thank my husband for a lot of things. He's one of my biggest cheerleaders, especially when it comes to writing, and he's inspired me in a multitude of artistic endeavors. So when I told him about the 300 word Master Writing Challenge, he got excited, but for both of us. He loves to write as well, but he doesn't get as much time to play with words as he'd like. This was the perfect short project he could play around with to get his creative juices flowing.

Now the idea to go with a pseudonym was mostly his - he worries a bit that his outspoken wife will get backlash. So I decided if I was going to go with a pseudonym, pretty much everyone mentioned on my blog (who doesn't have a public persona they aren't comfortable using) would get one too. I thought of ones for two of my closest friends right away - Absinthe and Oolong.

"I want to keep up a beverage theme and those kind of go with their personalities," I told him.

"So what about me?" he asks, pretty excited. "What's my name?"

"Maneshevitz, Manny for short," I quip.

He wasn't at all crazy about that. After making some jokes about wanting to be named after something I like to drink (I can hear the snickering of all the dirty minded folks as I type this), I realized, this is hard. Is there a good drink that sums up a guy who is a weird blend of Oz from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Joscelin Verruil from Kushiel's Dart and Ron Stoppable from Kim Possible? He is lobbying hard for Mojito (I think not) though PG-Ice (Peach Green Tea, Iced) has an interesting ring to it .

So I'll leave you all with a song that always makes me think of him and his take on the 300 word challenge. It's funny - I actually called the book and the genre he used before I even saw it.

Rough day?" The bartender asked, glancing at his six shooter.   

Jessie eyed him briefly touching the dried blood on the side of his head.  "Whiskey" Jessie said motioning towards the glass.  

"You know where I can find a man called Travers?"  

The bartender just shrugged nodding his head towards a card game going on in the far corner.  "Oh and if you see a man with a red sash on his leg let me know, I owe him".

Thirty minutes later Jessie and a man with long black hair were the last ones at the table.  Jessie licked his lips and eyed his cards.  Something caught his eye outside the swinging bar doors.  A red sash on a man's leg.  Jumping up as he turned he felt a hand grab his shoulder.  

"You can't walk away", his opponent said.  

Jessie pulled away barking out "We'll settle this at noon, outside".  

The man seemed satisfied and let go.  As Jessie went through the doors he collided with a man entering.   The man sprawled backwards and in to the street.    Jessie looked frantically for the sash.  

"Slap leather yellow-belly!"  the muddy man said as he went for his pistol.  

Jessie, raised his hand and started to move off.  

"12:15 PM sir outside the bar, we'll settle it then".  

With that Jessie raced down the street, drawing his pistol.  Turning a corner he stepped in a large mud puddle which splattered on a couple standing to the side.  They were dressed in the finery of city folk.  The man's cane swung up and stopped his momentum.  

"You will apologize, trash" the man said disdainfully.  Jessie, pushed the cane aside with his gun.  He had no time for this.  

"We'll settle this at 12:30 PM outside the bar" and with that he was off.

                      

Word Master Challenge

My main reason for starting this blog was entering a contest, the Word Master Challenge, proposed by Misha Gericke in her My First Book blog  The challenge was to recreate a scene from a favorite famous book in a completely different genre. Try to recapture the feeling of the story and scene as best you can without trying to slavishly reproduce exact details. Oh yes, and do it in under 300 words!

So here's my entry. Can you guess what story it's from originally?

A Police Story

“Didn’t need to be so hard on her,” I said.

Red grunted. I don’t know what smelled worse, him or the old warehouse we were making our way through. His wino cover sure smelled like the real deal.

Min had to be here somewhere. The chief would lose it if she found out we were here after the order to pull out. But it was kinda our fault she doubled back this way, with no way of knowing there was a junkie, armed with a bomb, in here. We had a good idea which way she went though, and figured we’d be in and out before the chief knew.

“She doesn’t need to talk about what hot shit she was at the academy 24-7,” he muttered. “If I wanted to I could…”

A scream came from a bathroom on the right. Red kicked the door in and we charged through. I could just make out Min pinned on her stomach by the junkie, who was gnawing on her head. Her gun lay a few feet away. The junkie raised his head when he saw us, mouth filled with Min’s wig. She was a mess, but still alive.

Red leveled his gun. “Back off asshole.”

The junkie looked up, glassy eyed. His jaw slackened, dropping the wig. For a second I thought he’d come quietly. Then screaming “Las Culebras!” he ran towards us.

I swung out with my right, but he caught my arm. My free fist connected with his nose while Red pistol whipped the back of his head. He was down.

“The bomb!” Red yelled. “Where the fuck is it?”

Min pointed, “You mean that?”

A jumble of trash held by duct tape sat in a puddle.

“A diversion,” Min said.

“For what?”

“Something the Culebras want,” I said.