Drabbles 21-25

Pause That Refreshes

Published 10/27/2006.


Prompt 21, Colas

He’d passed the shop on his way in, but the vending machine hadn’t caught his eye then. Returning, the pressure off, he noticed the friendly glow lighting the enticing picture.

Halting the DOMO, he got out, walking over, contemplating the machine and the choices it presented. Thinking of the long flight home ahead, his mouth suddenly felt dry. Now there was nothing he wanted more than a cold bottle from that device. He patted his uniform, realizing he was missing something important.

“Hey, Scott? Got any money?”

“Yeah, Virgil.” A pause. “Why?”

Sheepishly, he explained, “I, uh, want a Coke.”


The Devil Made Me Do It

Published 10/27/2006.


Prompt 22, Slushes

“Blech.” Gordon grimaced at the blue slush, griping, “This used to taste better.”

Alan and Tin-Tin walked ahead, Alan’s arm around her waist. Another glance at the slush, then at the oblivious couple, and the devil prankster within Gordon just couldn’t resist.

Which one? he mused. The devil whispered, “Both.”

Sneaking up behind them, he reached out, pulling Tin-Tin’s collar away, dumping half the blue ice down her back.

“Augh! Gordon!” Her piercing squeal was satisfying, a perfect reward.

He poured the rest on Alan’s head, laughing insanely at their incredulous, angry expressions. But he’d forgotten, they’d bought slushies, too.


Parisian Tradition

Author’s note: Scenelet from The Perils of Penelope, retold from Penny’s POV. Published 7/23/2006.


Prompt 23, Mixed drinks

The liquor was by Pernod, strong and anise flavored, prepared at her table in the traditional manner. Its milky, mint green color promised the drink was properly made.

Penelope smiled at Sir Jeremy, and began raising the glass to her pink tinted lips, eager to savor her Parisian tradition.

A gunshot cracked; the glass broke, spilling its contents on both gloves and frock. Affronted, she glanced toward her car, and her accomplice.

“Beg pardon, Milady, but the drink was drugged,” he informed her.

Thwarted in her pleasure, she sighed. “Oh dear, how tiresome. It looked such a pretty Pernod, too.”


Pick Me Up

Author’s note: There are several brands of this drink in the US that you could almost mistake for being beer if the only thing you saw was the bottle. I decided to count “pick-me-up” as three words instead of one as other sites do. Published 9/30/2006.


Prompt 24, Root Beer

Brains opened the dark brown bottle with a practiced hand. He poured the brown liquid into the frosted tankard, watching with satisfaction as the foamy head swelled, threatening to flow over the glass’s edge. He took a long pull, smacking his lips, then wiping the bubbly moustache away.

“Are you sure you should have that now?” Virgil asked skeptically. “You’re working on my ‘Bird.”

“I n-need a pick-me-up,” Brains stuttered. He handed the bottle over.

Virgil lifted it and tasted the dregs.

“Brains!” he cried, nearly spitting out the mouthful. “Why didn’t you tell me? That’s root beer!”


Her Daily Pleasures

Published 7/21/2006.


Prompt 25, Tea

Cucumber and salmon paste sandwiches. Jam tarts. Warm scones. Pats of butter, molded into tiny daisies. Thin, crisp biscuits. The small pitcher of cream. The sugar bowl, filled with lumps. The delicate china cups and saucers. Pink linen napkins, sugar tongs, silverware… and of course, the brewing pot of hot tea. Earl Grey blend, the best that money could buy. All her favorites. All her daily pleasures.

“It’s ready, Parker,” Lil says, slipping a pink rose into a tall, slim vase.

Parker nods, then pushes the cart carefully to the drawing room. Opening the door, he announces, “Your tea, milady.”

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