There's a Vampire in the Laundry Room, v.3, no wait, it's a Pirate?

This is the third and final writing exercise prompted by "there's a vampire in the laundry room."  Except that I was tired of the vampires, weren't you?  So I decided it should be a pirate instead.  I wrote the first two vignettes a long time ago, and used them as an editing exercise this week.  This pirate version is fresh out of the pen yesterday.  I like it, but I wonder what I would change if I slept on it for a while?  

Oh, and the next time someone complains that I don't update the blog often enough - ahem - know that you're likely to be tortured with silly writing exercises.  

Etude: There's a Vampire Pirate in the Laundry Room

The woman standing in my laundry room at 5:30 a.m. was tall and wrapped in an old, stained, coarse bed sheet.  She clutched the fabric to her chest with one hand and a wad of clothes and boots with the other.  Her curly dark hair was dripping onto her bare brown shoulders. 

“What are you doing in my laundry room?” I screamed.  I grabbed the almost full bottle of laundry detergent as my defense.

“My laundry.  What are you doing up so early?” she whispered. “And keep your voice down or you’ll wake everyone.  I didn’t even get to finish my shower.”

I was stunned.  “Your shower.”

“Yes, you know, I usually have plenty of time to do a load of wash and have a proper hot shower before you wake up.  You’re very predictable.”  She put her clothes onto the folding table.  “Or at least you were.”

“Predictable.”

“Yes. Up no earlier than 6:30 every morning.  Often later.”

“You are frequently in my house?”  My voice sounded thin to me.

“Once a fortnight or so. Whenever I’m in port.”  She rubbed drips from her shoulders with a corner of the sheet. 

“In port.”

She looked a little annoyed.  “You keep repeating me.”

“You’re using my house?”

She rolled her eyes. “Only when you’re not using it.  You’re asleep.”

I slammed the detergent bottle back onto the dryer.  “You can’t just waltz in here and use my house whenever you want, without my permission.”

“I don’t waltz.”  She dropped the sheet, revealing a muscular naked body.  She was covered in tattoos and deep scars.  I turned away, embarrassed at her exposure, I suppose.

“Well, pirates don’t typically wait for permission, do we?”  She extracted a tissuey white blouse from the pile of clothes and slid it over her head. 

“Pirates?”  I glanced back at her.

“Never seen a naked pirate before?”  She smirked and raised an eyebrow.  She was pulling on a pair of brown pants that laced up the front.

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t.  Especially not in my laundry room!”  I raised my voice again. 

“Shh.”  She buttoned a tight leather vest over the shirt.  Her fingers moved quickly over the buttons.  Faster than I would have imagined since there were so many tiny buttons. “Yeah, I got that.  I’ll be out of here before anyone else wakes, if you’ll just be quiet.”  She sat on the floor to pull on the knee-high black leather boots.  A sapphire blue silk scarf tied around her head finished the pile of clothes. 

“How did you get in here?”

She smiled again, a suggestive leer, and reached behind the ironing board to pull out a leather belt and scabbard.  A scabbard for a very long sword. The word scimitar flashed through my brain.  She pulled the sword from its sheath and took a step toward me.  I stumbled back into the washer, wishing I still had the detergent bottle in my hand.  Not that it would do any good against the deadly-looking sword. 

“Like this.”  She raised the sword over her head and slashed downward in an arc.  I might have screamed.  I did close my eyes. 

When I wasn’t dead a moment later, I opened my eyes to see a glowing green line hovering in the middle of the room.  I was fine.  The pirate rested the tip of her sword on the floor. 

“That’ll never get old,” she chuckled to herself. 

She stepped through the glowing slash, disappearing as if through a doorway.  She leaned back into the room.  “Hope I don’t see you next time, but can you get that strawberry shampoo again?  I really like that one.  Oh, and that oxi stuff is great for the tar on my breeches.” 

The slash of light disappeared after her with a small pop.

There's a Vampire (?) in the Laundry Room, v. 2

Here's the second vignette prompted by "there's a vampire in the laundry room."  I don't like this one as well as yesterday's.  This one feels stilted.  And I like the big, dumb, cockroach-eating vampire more than the smoldering one.  Do you prefer one or the other or neither?

I did one pass of edits and cut out a section that included fingertips brushing bra lace, a nipple rolling between fingers, some gasping, and sharp teeth on an earlobe.  You'll just have to imagine those bits.

Etude: There's a Vampire in the Laundry Room, v. 2

I was dressed to clean the house.  A t-shirt, a pair of overalls, and canvas sneakers that had been washed too many times.  My hair was pulled back into a ponytail.  The dog and I returned from walking the kids to school.  I flipped on the stereo, turned the music up too loud, and refilled the dog’s water bowl.  I stepped into the laundry room to swap loads of wash.  I’d been up since six, and one load was already dry, waiting to be folded.  

I dropped a handful of wet clothes into the dryer, then screamed when I turned back to the washer.  Jason was standing right next to me, smiling.  I hadn’t heard him come in, didn’t know why he was here.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, grabbing at my chest to stifle the heart attack I was sure I was having and hoping I hadn’t wet my pants.  

He leaned in close to me.  “Standing inappropriately close to you and smoldering.”

My stomach was fluttering in my throat somewhere.  He looked at me like I was dinner.  “Smoldering, huh.  Very cute.”  My voice sounded much tougher than I felt.  My heart and breath were still racing.  I paused, trying to slow down my insides.  I’d only met him a twice, both times in Mort’s office.  The boss vouched for him, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust him yet.  Heck, I wasn’t even sure what he was.  His sneak- and smolder-routine wasn’t reassuring.

“What were you thinking?  I could have shot you.”  I was trying for angry.

“About cupcakes.”  A smile crept up at the corners of his mouth.  “Those devil’s food ones with the sweet creamy centers.”  Ok, maybe not dinner.  Maybe I was dessert.  “And you can’t shoot me because you’re unarmed.”

Panic was about to overtake me, and my attempts to calm myself were failing.  I stopped.  I had to maintain control of the situation.  I needed to be direct.

“Are you a vampire?”  I put my hand on my hip in my favorite pissed-off-mom gesture, hoping that I looked intimidating.  Hey, it worked on my kids most of the time. 

He threw back his head and laughed warmly.  Then, smiling, he ran one finger under the strap of my overalls.  “I think the slaying thing might be getting to you if you’re missing the sexual objectification here.”  He leaned in closer. 

I tried to step back but he had me up against the washer.  Both of his hands were now curled into my overall straps.  He kissed me.  I yelped, but he was insistent.  His mouth was soft and warm.  When his tongue touched mine, my heart stopped.  He pressed his body against me, moving one of his hands into my hair, which had fallen loose from the ponytail.  His body was warm and hard and he smelled good.  He unclicked one side of my overalls and was sliding his hand under my shirt.  His skin was hot.

“Not. Unarmed,” I said, pressing the point of the stake against his chest.

There's a Vampire in the Laundry Room

Because someone doesn’t think I post here often enough… ahem.  

This is one of three little vignettes I wrote a few years ago from the prompt “There’s a Vampire In the Laundry Room,” with one pass of edits.  I have no way to confirm this, but I’d bet money that I was reading Janet Evanovich when I wrote this one.  My tea- and tequila-swilling, bunny-vitamin eating, laundry-mom has an air of Stephanie Plum about her.  

Are there any vampires in YOUR laundry room???

Etude: There’s a Vampire in the Laundry Room

I brewed myself a cup of strong black tea and splashed milk in it to cool it off.  I took a swig to wash down two Advil and a Bugs Bunny vitamin.  I thought about taking a slug of tequila from the bottle stashed in the cupboard behind the chocolate chip cookies, but decided tequila and Bugs Bunny would clash.  I ate two cookies instead.  

It’s been a very weird day around here.  

I dreamt Matthew McConaughey drove me to the library in a limousine (alright, alright, alright).  My husband bought me flowers.  My kids all got ready without a fuss, so they were early for school.  And I’m pretty sure there’s a vampire in the laundry room.  

So there’s a good chance that in the two hours I’ve been awake today, I’ve encountered zombies, aliens, and bloodsuckers.  No werewolves yet, but the day is still new.

I knew I’d have to take care of the vampire if I was going to get any laundry done, but since the sun was up he probably wasn’t going anywhere for a while.  They’re always attracted by the new roach traps.  I was pretty sure this one was sitting on top of the dryer hoping I wouldn’t notice him while he scoped out the trap.  I caught a glimpse of him when he ran across the kitchen floor in the dark early this morning.  Six feet tall and he thought I wouldn’t notice him perched on my appliances?  They’re dumb like that.

I finished my tea and rummaged through the kitchen drawers looking for a wooden chopstick.  In the first couple of drawers I managed to find three plastic ones.  I finally found a wooden one in a cupboard under a bag of dog food.  We needed to order in some Lo Mein so I could replenish my chopstick supply.   Either that or I’d have to resort to using my knitting needles.  I didn’t want to have to go there.

I clutched the chopstick in my right hand and opened the laundry room door with my left.   The small room was pitch black, but I didn’t turn on the light. No sense in startling the poor sap, especially if he was in the middle of eating a roach.  The roaches here on the coast are scary.  Some of them as big as cats.  There was no need for the vigilance though.  The vampire had fallen asleep across the top of the washer and dryer.  He had an insect leg sticking out of the corner of his mouth and he was drooling.  Disgusting.  But on the bright side, he’d be taking some roaches away with him.

When I rammed the chopstick into his chest he ppphstzed into a billion shiny little particles of dust.  Sucking up the vampire glitter with the ShopVac, I made a mental note to stake only outside.  I started a load of wash and went back for the tequila.

10 Things: Cheese (Bonus Thing!)

I’ve scraped an old 10 Things out of the notebook.  So you could say that today’s 10 Things is aged, moldy even.  I reproduce it here unedited, AS IS, with only one word corrected for spelling.  

If you’re new to 10 Things, here’s how it works.  I’ll give you a PROMPT, then you’ll write the first 10 THINGS that arrive in the forefront of your mind when you contemplate that prompt.  You can do it quickly or you can SAVOR the contemplation and take your time.  Either way, put YOUR 10 Things down there in the comments and then read what I came up with back in May.  I’ll leave a little no-spoiler space here, so that you aren’t accidentally influenced by MY 10 things.  

Why do I do this?  To stimulate the writing brain cells.  Call me a Fairy Inspiration-mother, but only if you mean it in a nice way.  

Ready for the PROMPT?

CHEESE!!  Go go go.

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1. Mouse, mousetrap, cheese, and peanut butter.

2. Pizza with stringy, melted mozzarella.

3.  String-cheese sticks. Is that even really cheese?  Seriously.  

4. Cheese and crackers!! (as a snack AND an exclamation)

5. Cheesy. As in campy or groan worthy.

6. Cheesy.  As in seedy, seamy, holey, or of low quality.

7. A child hamming it up for the camera, so much that it’s not just ham, but ham AND cheese.

8. Say cheese for the camera.  Or parrot.  That creepy school photographer trying to get you to smile.

9. Cheese, it’s what’s for dinner.  No, wait, that’s for Beef.  Ah. Behold! The power of cheese!

10. The man in the moon.

11. (Bonus Cheese!) “Do my hands smell like cheese?” A line from a forgotten sitcom with that actress, what’s her name, from Moonlighting? Oh yes, Cybill Shepherd.  

Your turn.  Spill your cheese!

Work from there

I’m a little behind on my Friday Night Lights viewing.  A few weeks ago I watched the first couple of episodes of the most recent season.  One story line has former Panther QB Matt Saracen (why is he still part of the story again?) doing an internship with a local artist.  When prompted to give his opinion of Matt’s work, the crusty old jerk (love him) flips roughly through Matt’s portfolio, chooses one drawing, rips it to shreds and hands Matt a scrap of paper.  I think it was a drawing of a hand.  “This part right here doesn’t make me want to throw up.  Work from there.”  

If you rip through your writing, throw out all the cliches, and get to the heart of it, which is the part that doesn’t make you want to throw up?  Write from there.  

A close-up shot of my computer, complete with mustache, inspirational quote, small pictures of the kids, and desk detritus