10 word challenge
Words:Acrobat, grocery store, ceiling fan, dandelion, bumble bee, alabaster, scissors, chartreuse, strenuously, cube.
Amy loved her kitten! It was a beautiful chartreuse given to her by, her now erstwhile French paramour, Antoine. Actually the cat was the only useful thing to come out of the affair, it kept her better company at night that was for sure! Now as much as she loved Kitty, especially when she did her little acrobat routine of chasing bumble bees through the dandelions in the backyard, Kitty could be very unruly (much like Antoine!). Last week she jumped on the sideboard and knocked over the alabaster vase that held Amy's gran's ashes, sending Grams flying in every which direction. Her mother nearly had a fit of apoplexy when she heard the news! Kitty couldn't be trusted on her own for a minute, even a 5 minute trip to the grocery store meant lugging Kitty along to forestall catastrophe. Three days ago Kitty discovered the joy of shredding and reduced Amy's favorite silk blouse to tatters more effectively and efficiently than a pair of maliciously handled scissors. As Amy sat on the veranda of her little cube of a house that the housing agent tried passing off as a charming cottage, while soaking the breeze from the ceiling fan, she calculated the best way to subdue Kitty's natural precociousness during the strenuously tasking 2 day drive she was about to embark on to see her mother!
Words:iPod, poison ivy, computer, interpreter, optometrist.
"I really need to see an optometrist" wailed Sandy to herself over the music throbbing from her rather battered iPod. Her once loved friend...now nemesis, the computer monitor appeared to wink maliciously at her, as if savoring the pleasure of her dilemma. She'd been in front of the screen 14 long hours trying to put finishing touches to her play titled 'Poison Ivy and the Interpreter' that was to play in 8 weeks, but she found the ending to be too much of an anticlimax.
Brigadier General Mustard sat in the gazebo now devoid of the shade once provided by his beloved birch trees, the hummingbird family twittering away unseen in an obscure branch in someone else's tree, sipping morosely on a glass of Chartreuse, the ice cube choked lemonade on the raffia table a tad too tame for his palate and thoughts. His attention was divided! He was currently trying to decide whether to focus on the little bumble bee playing acrobat amongst the dandelion clusters in the lawn (Michaels always seemed to overlook the weeds while taking care of the garden), or the simply concentrate on the oscillating ceiling fan in the gazebo that was working strenuously...and fighting a losing battle in the General's opinion... in a valiant attempt to cut the heat to an endurable level. Carrie had gone to the grocery store, or so she said, to stock up for his birthday party scheduled for the next night.
What the General really wanted to do was to take the spare keys from the alabaster vase in his study and check Carrie's room for any clues that might exclude her from the suspect list...or invariably link her to the arson!
He loved his daughter but...she'd always run with a bad crowd and had disappeared from his life for 12 years, before surfacing 6 months ago with brood in tow and very few answers.
He finally gave up the fight, grabbed the keys, and ambled to her room. The room looked very much like it had been hit with a rocket launcher...or a hurricane! Maybe it had been...Hurricane Carrie!!! She was always pristine and well put together, but she was an absolute pig when it came to housekeeping. On the bed he even spied a pair of scissors peeking through the mayhem on the bed.
A cursory recon of the room showed little to pique his curiosity. He walked over to her computer table and noted nothing of interest other than an appointment card for the optometrist and tickets for a play titled 'Poison Ivy and the Interpreter' by a playwright called Sandra Fullerton. He began to feel rather foolish and very guilty for even suspecting Carrie and headed to the door while cursing himself for being a nosey old fuddy duddy, when he noticed an iPod peeking out from under the bed. Now the Brigadier was one of those people who was best described as a gadget freak (for lack of a better word), a throwback from his 10 year stint in counterintelligence no doubt, and knew his way around technology better than the average Joe. He scrolled through the menu and saw a track with no name but the date clearly showed it was recorded the day of the fire! He pressed 'PLAY' and the first voice he heard sent a chill though his spine!
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