Mega Meme Monday! 08/26/2013

Not a lot of introduction this week as I am pressed for time now that school has started! This week’s winning Meme comes from a lass called Marie. She’s the lucky winner of a $5 gift certificate to Amazon and a copy of CAGED by Amber Lynn Natusch! Congrats, Marie! We’ll be in touch soon!

Next weeks Mega Meme will be based on the photo at the BOTTOM of this post and you can submit your stories via email to megamememonday@googlegroups.com or use the form below! (further fine print can be found in the caption of said photo) Winner will receive a $5 gift card to Amazon!

Here’s her winning entry to last week’s nerdy Mega Meme!

This week’s creative spurt was brought to you by this photo!

If there was one thing I learned from the six years of dressing in cosplay attire it was that some people believed that I may have had a mental disorder. When I first began my family kept my weekend entertainment all hush hush from the entire world. My father was thoroughly embarrassed and stopped talking to me five years ago. He demanded that I stop playing make-believe and search out honest work, but what he didn’t seem to understand was this wasn’t my job. It was my life. Cosplay is about expression of art, self and honoring those who blazed the path for fans such as myself. No matter what others believed I was proud that I belonged to such an open community that is costume play.

Today on my way to the Dragon con, I stopped off by the local bagel shop for my usual chicken salad on sesame seed wheat. I had on my Storm Troopers costume, a particular favorite of mine, and the lady behind the counter was a new hire. When I entered the store her face flushed and the almost immediately I watched as all the blood drained from it. I smirked, but with my helmet on there was no way for her to see it. I continued forward, sauntering my way toward the counter. Adjusting my fake gun on my shoulder, I discovered that it was hooked onto a piece of the costume that made it dig into my back and that was bothersome.

I snatched the gun once to free it, but it didn’t help. So I put all of my weight behind it in the second attempt. It worked however, when my finger slipped on the trigger the rapid fire sound of bullets sounded like an attack of galactic proportions.

The new clerk screamed, “Oh my god, please don’t kill me.”

She fell to the floor and scurried through the back storage door, shutting and locking it. I was thoroughly mortified. I stepped around the large glass deli counter and knocked on the door.

Her scream turned into a screech as I heard her yelling that she need the police and blurted out the address to the bagel shop. I assumed at this point she was on the phone with emergency dispatch alerting them to a robbery in progress.

“Shit!” I said under my breath and then through the bolted shut door I asked, “Miss, can you hear me?”

I realized after another screech from the almost neurotic woman locked in the small room beyond the doorway that I had my voice distorter engaged. The sound that came out was far from pleasant.

“The police are on their way. You stay the hell away from me!” She threatened.

Fear began to control every sane thought in my head. What was I supposed? If the police showed up they would believe that I was trying to rob her and arrest me. The local law enforcement in this neighborhood followed the beliefs of “Shoot first, ask questions later” so there was only once choice left for me.
I ran.
I turned around, retraced my path through the restaurant and the bolted out the front door.
Too late.
Apparently a patrol car was in the vicinity and responded quickly to the dispatched robbery in progress call.  They spotted me rushing out and yelled for me to stop. I couldn’t think straight and a voice inside my head urged me to get the hell out of there now.
I ran.
My adrenaline kicked in and I ran faster in that moment than I did back in high school when I was an all-star on the track team. Too bad I forgot they were in a patrol car. The policemen were upon me faster than I could believe.
The marked unit whipped around the intersection that lay before me, effectively cutting of my path. I sidestepped the front end of the vehicle and veered off down the adjacent alleyway.
“Stop you son of a bitch.” I heard a loud threatening male voice order, but I just could do as he instructed.
I continued down the dark alley that led straight through toward my freedom. I pushed myself harder and within ten feet of the opening I saw the flashing strobes of a second police unit.
“Dammit,” I mumbled through the heavy headgear.
“One more step and I will shoot your sorry ass.” The driver of the additional patrol car advised.
With no more options, there was nothing left for me to do except surrender. Like a small child asking the teacher for permission to use the restroom, I raised my hands high above my head.
“Follow my instructions carefully and you won’t get hurt.” The dominating male voice stated. Knowing that my voice distorter would only piss him off, I offered a slow nod acknowledging that I understood.

The officer continued, “Turn around, get on your knees and place both hands above your head.”
I obeyed and within a moment was forced down on the ground. Three large bodies immediately began pulling my arms behind my back, but the gear was too thick to get the handcuffs around my wrists. After cussing me for everything I was worth they ordered me to stand – slowly. After managing to hoist myself back up to a vertical position a second officer walked me toward the back of his patrol car.
“Place both hands on the back of the car and spread your feet.” He said and once again I nodded my response.
The first officer approached me and asked, “Why in the hell did you run?”
I shook my head knowing that he couldn’t understand me, but it only pissed him off. He repeated his question with a harsher tone. In order to keep from becoming a victim of police brutality I answered his question. The voice distorter did not provide him with the answer he wanted since it completely transformed my words into garbled noises.
Jerking me off the car, the officer shoved my shoulder, spinning me around and demanded that I answer him without the electronic voice. I nodded and pointed to the button at the side of the head gear.
He reached for it slowly and when it was disengaged he said, “Now, tell me what you thought you were doing back there.”
I said, “I was getting a bagel.”
His eyebrows lifted in shock and he crossed his large arms over his chest before he said, “Is that so. Then tell me this. If you were only getting a bagel,” He lifted his hands and air quoted with his fingers and sarcastically continued, “And you weren’t robbing the place then why in the hell did you run?”
I pondered the question and there really was only one explanation.
I said, “Because you were chasing me.”
I was spun around so quickly that I didn’t see the blow that knocked me out and subsequently kept me out for over an hour. Waking up in a general population jail cell with thirty other men staring at me was the low point of my life. I decided at that exact moment that the life I lived and loved was too dangerous and vowed instantly that it had no place in a world where “Pride in the Past. Progress in the future” did not include Storm Troopers.

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions are due by 11:59:59 PM MST on September 1st.
You can submit them using the form below or via email to megamememonday@googlegroups.com

 

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Mega Meme Monday! 8/19/2013

We’ve got a winner!!!

This week, we were giving away a $20 Kindle gift card to the best submission and, after hours of trans-continental debate between our top two, we finally settled on a winner! The little gem below came from a gal on the north west coast named Lisa.

For next week’s contest, we’ll start the pot back at $5 for the gift card AND, as a celebration of it’s recent climb up the Amazon Best Seller list, we’ll be throwing in a copy of Amber Lynne Natusch‘s Caged (book 1 of the Caged Series)!

All you have to do is write us a story about the circumstances surrounding the photo at the BOTTOM of this post. 100 to 1,500 words and you can submit it via email to megamememonday@googlegroups.com or by using the form below!

Without further ado, here’s our winner!

This week’s creative spurt was brought to you by this photo!

He stood at the front of a poorly lit room filled with about a dozen men, all wearing matching orange jump suits. This was the third day in county lock-up for Brian Weinrite, who only a few days ago had been known as The Muffin King of the Northwest. Now, he was just called Inmate.

“Hi, my name is Brian and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Brian”. The tired response to Brian’s essentially court ordered statement, made him roll his eyes in disgust.

Unlike the gangbangers, druggies and general losers that filled the room, Brian didn’t belong here. He had built his muffin wholesaler business from nothing to the largest muffin supplier in the Northwest in only 12 years. He had gone from the fat geek in the freshman dorms that everybody ignored to a powerful and respected man. He had gotten it all; the beautiful home on Lake Union, a Bentley Mulsanne, and the customary trophy wife. The trophy wife, Marie, was the reason Brian now stood in this room under buzzing florescent lights and facing a cluster of neck-tattooed gangbangers who looked like they wanted to shank him in the shower. Marie’s death was all on her. If she hadn’t wrecked his Bentley and shown up at the airport in a rental, he would not have been upset. He would not have had to drive an unfamiliar car to the factory. He would not have driven the car into the business sign which shook the giant muffin loose.

A quiet voice in the back of the room said, “Hey I know this guy. He’s the Muffin King. He killed his wife.”

Brian was searching the room for the voice when another rang out, “What did you do dough boy – get drunk and pass out on top of her?”. The room erupted in laughter and Brian was suddenly hit in the face with something that dropped into his lap. At that moment, the in prison AA meeting was brought to a close. Brian looked at what had fallen into his lap and slipped it into his pocket.

After lights out Brian laid in his bunk listening to the quiet snoring and distant whispers echoing off the walls in the dormitory style room. He silently pulled the chocolate bar from his pocket and stared at it in the dim light. He thought of his wife, he thought of what had been his career. After a few moments, he quietly tore open the wrapper. Just as he put the sweet chocolate to his mouth, he felt a hand on his back and heard a low whisper against his ear, “Hi muffin.”

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions are due by 11:59:59 PM MST on August 25th
You can submit them using the form below or via email to megamememonday@googlegroups.com

Congrats, Lisa!

As always, happy writing!
D

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Mega Meme Monday! 8/12/13

Well, we’re up to $20 this week!

That’s right! A $20 gift card to Amazon is up for grabs for as little as 100 words! All you have to do is write me a short story that tells us about the events that lead up to the photo at the BOTTOM of this post being taken. 100 words should take you 2 minutes, I think you can handle that! All I ask is that you keep the story under 1,500 words for the sake of those who will be reading it next week! Submission details can be found in the caption of the photo in question!

Without further ado, I bring you this week’s Mega Meme!

This week’s creative spurt was brought to you by this photo!

“This one says it’s a very unique piece of lake front property and it’s within our price range, should we go look at it?”

He leaned over my shoulder and continued reading the listing.

“You know what ‘MUST SEE!’ means in Realtor language, right?”

I huffed out a breath of air in an attempt to show my frustration with his negative attitude. Every house we had looked at had been personally chosen by him and every one of them had something  wrong with it that just didn’t meet his standards. I was getting sick of it.

“Can we just go look at this one because I like it? Even if it’s one that you end up hating everything about, like all the others, I will at least be able to feel like I have a little bit of a say in this whole process.”

He nudged me with his elbow, “You know you have a say. This is our life now.”

“Do I?”

The skepticism must have come through in my voice because he reached around me and took control of the laptop. He shot an email off to the Realtor listed as the contact containing our phone number and a brief message expressing interest in a showing.

Before the kiss he planted (roughly, I might add) on top of my head had stopped hurting, his cell started to vibrate on the table.

He picked it up and answered with a simple, “Hello?”

The one sided conversation that ensued had me curious.

“Really?”

Silence.

“Right now?”

Silence

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Silence.

“Awesome. See you in twenty minutes.”

I looked up at him expectantly.

“Clearly, this agent is either really bored, or really wants to get this house sold. Get your stuff and let’s go to the lake!”

I jumped up, my excitement nearing the point of immature, and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” I shouted as I dashed into the bedroom to grab my wallet and a pad of paper to take notes on.

I all but leaped out of the seat when we pulled up to the spot along the lake where the agent and told us to meet her. I spun around in a circle taking in all of the scenery and searching for the property we were about to view. The only thing I could see was a large house on what appeared to be an island about fifty yards into the lake.

A woman with gleaming white teeth approached us with her hand extended and greeted each of us by name.

“Now, you know what ‘must see’ means in Realtor talk, right?”

The love of my life cast a glance at me that all but screamed “I TOLD YOU SO!”, but I ignored it and said, “Well, if we must we must!”

The agent smiled and stepped to the side with a grandeur flourish of her arm and indicated we should get in the cute little boat she had pulled up on the shore.

Getting a little nervous, I let Mark climb in first.

Once we were settled, the agent gave the boat a little shove and hopped in at the back of the boat. The little outboard motor came to life and we began to move towards the island in the distance.

As it came into view, it was all I could do to keep myself from falling into the water as I leaned over the bow to get a closer look.

That was when I realized that the house wasn’t on an island at all.

It was built IN the water.

I just had to snap a photo as the agent maneuvered us through the water-level front door.

She docked the boat at the bottom of the huge spiral staircase and I jumped out and spun to beam a smile at Mark. I wasn’t the only one beaming.

After a quick tour, we had barely made it back into the boat before we both asked in tandem, “When can we make an offer?”

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions are due by 11:59:59 PM MST on August 17th
You can submit them using the form below or via email to megamememonday@googlegroups.com

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Mega Meme Monday! 8/5/13

First off, sorry it’s so late coming out today! We had a little bit of a snafu with the blog that has since been worked out. We had another no entry week and I’m just beginning to think you guys are waiting for the dollar amount to reach astronomical amounts. Either that or your submissions are getting eaten by the Google Fairy. Drop me some comments this week and let me know if you’ve submitted something in past weeks or even some changes you’d like to see to this giveaway that would make you more likely to participate. We’re up to a $15 Amazon gift card this week, so the 5 minutes it would take you to write us a pretty story is definitely worth it. 100-1,500 words. Let’s get down to business! Here’s our story this week!

The inspiration for this week’s Mega Meme!

The sound of my pounding heart hammered hard against my eardrums as the racing organ thumped out a spastic beat against my rib cage. The thought of my own heart breaking free from my chest to leave me empty and alone fought with the panic that was growing inside of me, leaving me temporarily frozen in place. Completely unable to control my muscles and force them to bend to my will, I held firmly to the only thing I seemed to be able to control. Aji’s face swam into my mind’s eye and I took a deep breath as I felt the tension ease from my body instantly.

Just keep calm and follow the plan, one step at a time.

I chanted this over and over in my head until my mother’s sharp voice shocked me back to reality and sent me scurrying for the ingredients to prepare breakfast. As I deftly made my way around the kitchen and prepared the same meal I had been cooking every morning since I was seven years old, my body took over and I was happy to let it. My mornings had become so routine that it was a matter of muscle memory.

Like a well trained servant, I laid the plates on the table in front of each one of my family members and removed myself to a corner until given further instructions. Normally, this was the part of my day where I fought an internal battle with my stomach as it tried to consume the surrounding organs. Not today though. Today, the thought of food was shoved out of my head by the anticipation of things to come.

The sharp snap of my father’s fingers had me moving to clear the scraps from the table. I piled the leftovers onto a small plate as usual and shuffled it into a rubbish bag. I muttered an excuse about putting out the rubbish and exited the room without acknowledgement.

I took careful note of the location of my rubbish bag and grappled with lame excuses for leaving the house for a longer period of time as I made my way pack into the house.

“We have no milk for father’s tea.” My father always drank an entire pot of tea after breakfast, so I knew that this would be a sure fire way to be sent away to the market.

As predicted, I received a customary tongue lashing before my mother dropped exact change into my open palm and ordered me to hurry or risk the wrath of my father when I returned.

I retrieved the rubbish bag and stuffed it in my baggy hoodie as I fought to control the excruciatingly slow steps that would assure my unnoticed departure. The pace had me winded by the time I reached the end of the street and broke into a sprint.

I had been awaiting this day for months and the realization that it had finally arrived, that the plan had gone so well, that I was almost free crashed through me like a tidal wave. The overwhelming sense of freedom brought a smile to my face that spread from ear to ear as my feet pounded in time with my soaring heart against the sidewalk.

Aji was waiting for me and I willed the several blocks remaining between us to close faster. Just like they had the day we met. The announcement of my betrothal was extremely sudden and completely unwelcome. I was distraught over being sold to the highest bidder and my father had beaten me when I expressed my discontent with the situation.

After finally regaining consciousness, my mother had immediately sent me to the river to clean myself up. As I scooped the dirty water in my hands and used it to gingerly wash the blood off of my arms and face, a voice came from behind me. His voice.

Even though he was a stranger, I couldn’t seem to stop the words that came pouring out of my mouth. As I broke down, he took over the job of cleaning me up and tenderly dabbed at the remaining spots of blood. He never let his anger manifest in a physical way, but I could see the fire in his eyes when I told him how my own father had done that to me.

It was that fire that made me agree to his plan.

My legs begged for mercy as I pushed them to eat up that last hundred yards between me and the life that Aji was about to give me.

I rounded the final bend and stopped dead in my tracks. An all too familiar voice was bellowing, unseen, from the center of a small crowd. My heart sank.

The crunch of boot against bone forced me into action. I dove into the swarm of people, pushing and shoving my way toward the thumps and muffled cries in the center.

I caught sight of him through a part in the crowd and every part of my being flung itself toward him.

I fell to the ground on top of him, ungraciously catching a large boot in my stomach in the process. The familiar whoosh of air leaving my lungs accompanied the sharp pain like a finely paired wine and I waited for the next blow to land.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… So sorry…” Aji kept muttering over and over again in my ear.

I clung to him with everything I had as strong hands started to pry us apart.

I heard a pop from somewhere inside his shoulder and winced as if it had been my own.

Huge fingers dug into my flesh and pulled in every direction, bruising me even further.

I felt nothing.

The only sensation that mattered to me was the sound of his voice.

“I’m so sorry…”

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions are due by 11:59:59 PM MST on July 10th
You can submit them using the form below or via email to megamememonday@googlegroups.com

As always, happy writing!
D

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Mega Meme Monday! 7/29/13

I have made a couple of executive decisions with this week in regards to this little hobby of mine! Since we had no submissions last week, the $5 gift card will be rolled over to this week and the winner who submits a story for this post will receive a $10 gift card! The second change I have made is the word count requirement (some of you may be excited about this!). The minimum has been dropped down to 100 words (maximum of 1,500 still applies… Ain’t nobody got time for that!) which means that you can bang out a quick story in around 5 minutes and, as long as it’s good, still win! Get crackin’! (stories are to be based on the photo at the BOTTOM of the post and are due by MIDNIGHT MST on August the 2nd. Submit posts to megamememonday@googlegroups.com OR using the form below the photo)

The inspiration for last week’s Mega Meme!

There is never a dull moment when you are vegan and live across the street from a slaughter house.

As the squeals and cries of the innocent ring out in the night, I am always forced to press my pillow so firmly against my head that I fear I might suffocate myself one night. Night after night I push myself to the brink of suffocation in an effort to drown out the squawks, squeals, snorts and moos that drift across the street to my window. Night after night I fight down vomit as the stench of death wafts through my drapes. Night after night I whisper into my pillow “Just wait until morning, little friends. Those cages are nothing compared to what awaits you.”

Night after endless night had been filled with the same routine.

Until the night that PETA called.

I leaped out of bed and covered myself from head to toe in black before sneaking out of my own back door and slinking along the side of my house before dashing across the street and heading to the gate where I had been instructed to meet them.

They showed up a couple of minutes later and we crept silently through the wooden portal and stepped straight into the bowels of hell. Everywhere we turned there was some kind of defenseless animal cooped up in a wire cage that looked ten sizes too small.

One by one, we began to open them.

One by one, the poor creatures limped, hopped, hobbled, flapped, ran and crawled away from the internment camp that had been forced upon them.

One by one, the five of us filed back through the gate and silently went our separate ways.

Moments before reaching my back door, a blood curdling squeal shattered the silence of the night and I spun in a full circle trying to see where the sound had come from. I saw it a moment too late. A giant pig came charging around the corner of my house and plowed into my legs, knocking me on my ass and causing one of the smaller bones in my arm to come shooting through my flesh.

The pig vanished without another sound as I sat cursing loud enough to wake the neighbors.

When I arrived home from the hospital the next morning, police officers had cordoned off a good portion of my neighborhood and animal control officers were darting in and out of yards in an effort to detain various forms of escaped barn animals. It really was quite comical.

And then I saw this. Like a nightmare come to life, the dark, beady eyes set into that furry, porky face stared at me. It was as if the damn thing knew me.

When I noticed the officer carry the hell spawn back to the slaughter house, I wasted no time in snapping this photo before grabbing my wallet and running over to be the first in line for a side of bacon. I always get my revenge when it comes to matters of pride.

I’ve just never had my revenge taste like bacon before.

In a sick way, it has never tasted so sweet.

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions need to be in by 11:59:59 PST on Friday, 2 August 2013.
Submit stories to megamememonday@googlegroups.com or use the form below

As always, happy writing!
D

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Mega Meme Monday! 7/22/13

It’s that time again! Mega Meme Monday is back for round two and this time, we’re upping the ante! Not only will you get all the goodies outlined in last week’s post, we’re also throwing in a $5.00 gift card for Amazon’s Kindle Store so you can look into Amber Lynn Natusch’s most recent installment in The Caged Series, or grab a copy of Samantha Towle’s The Mighty Storm before it’s sequel is released in August, or you can snag one of my personal favorites G.P. Ching’s The Soulkeepers Series. The choice is yours! All you have to do is write us a little story (500-1,500 words) about the photo at the bottom of this post and send it to megamememonday@googlegroups.com! We’ll pick a winner and you’ll be notified by email!

Without further ado, this week’s Mega Meme was written by Miss Simone Nicole! She’s a budding writer from somewhere in the south of Australia and she’s got a wicked sense of humor that comes across well in her writing. Feel free to show her some love by clicking on her name and liking her Facebook page!

This week’s Mega Meme was based on this photo!

 

Breaking news!

Jimmy Crocket slays great white with knockout punch.

The humiliated, three times world champ was rumored to have disappeared after his boxing career ended with a first round knockout landed by a relatively unknown rookie.

The rumor mill had gone crazy with all sorts of outlandish stories; some claimed that he had been admitted to a mental institution due to the punch scattering his few remaining brain cells, one tabloid claimed that he had fled to the Amazon to become one with his ape brethren and, by far the craziest, (and most popular) was that Jimmy became Jane. After 26 grueling surgeries Jimmy had been completely transformed into a woman. The fabricated images that circulated around every social media site out there paled in comparison to the actual story that we have uncovered.

Almost as preposterous as his becoming Jane, Jimmy had indeed fled the country and made his way across the broken seas to become a surfer in West Australia. Desperate to escape his infamy and shame, he had gone to the only place he wouldn’t be recognized to live his childhood dream. Sadly, that dream was short lived.

He may have stung like a butterfly and floated like a bee in the boxing world but on a surf board, he sank like his boxing career—instantly. The lightness of foot and catlike reflexes were clearly left on the mat with his pride. He refused to give up though. Having been offered a job as a life guard, his days were spent saving stray dogs, deranged grandmothers and drunken bums while his nights were spent trying not to break his surf board in two.

The monotone routine had lasted six whole months, until one ordinary Tuesday afternoon the school kids stopped playing beach football, the seagulls weren’t stealing chips and the deranged grandmothers had started to scream.

Having spent so many years training, it had become part of his daily workout to don his gloves and run a few miles along the beach. The screams become more and more clear the closer he got to the crowd that had started gathering. “Shark!” the all screamed, pointing in the general direction of the small fin sailing through the shallow seas.

Jimmy didn’t stop running.

He splashed into the surf, grabbing a board from a fleeing surfer and started paddling out, still gloved, toward the fin.

A single communal gasp hushed the chaos along the shoreline as he dove into the salty water mere feet from where the fin had just vanished beneath the swells.

No one knows exactly what transpired beneath the surface, but the crowd erupted into applause and cheers when Jimmy surfaced from the crashing waves a few minutes later. Somehow, he had debilitated the giant fish and flung it over his shoulder before setting foot on the hot sand.

Surrounded by the beaming, cheering crowd, he saw a single, scowling onlooker with the acronym PETA plastered across her shirt in large black letters.

He stared right at her and met her scowl with a smirk, “Sushi anyone?”

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions need to be in by 11:59:59 PST on Friday, 27 July 2013.
Submit stories to megamememonday@googlegroups.com

Good luck!

As always, happy writing!
D

 

Mega Meme Monday! 7/15/13

With the assistance of my new sidekick (more to come on her later!) I have come up with a new idea for my publicity stunt! Not only will this spur some creativity in you guys (I hope), but if successful, it will prove to be HIGHLY entertaining for me AND my readers! So, without further ado, I bring you MEGA MEME MONDAY!

Here’s how it will work:

Every Monday, starting today, you will see a post with two photos… The top one will be the inspiration for the accompanying Mega Meme and the bottom one will serve as the inspiration for the following week’s Mega Meme. I’m kicking it off this week with this lovely story about bad luck, bad decisions and bad rodeo clowns (see below)…

YOUR job is to make it through my story to the photo at the bottom of the post and let your fingers do the rest! All you have to do is write me a short story (between 500 and 1500 words) describing the events that lead up to the moment the photo was taken! Simple, right? You will then submit these short stories via email to megamememonday@googlegroups.com for review. Should my evil henchman and I (potentially more members as this takes off) decide that your submission is the best, it will be posted the following Monday as the featured Mega Meme! Naturally, this means you will want to submit your name, a blurb and links to your blog, book store, Facebook page, Twitter, LinkedIn, Google+, MySpace (WHA?!) or any other site you may or may not have so that I can include it in the post and get you some traffic (I’ll do up to 5 links per post)!

If you have any questions, comments or outbursts, PLEASE feel free to comment and/or email us and one of us will get back to you as soon as possible! Aaaaaaand GO!

As always, Happy Writing!
D

THIS week’s Mega Meme (below) was written by yours truly and my new lovely assistant (more to come on HER very soon)!

With the mother of all hangovers river-dancing its way through my head, I painstakingly cracked open one bleary eye. As expected, a searing pain shot through my skull and turned the dancers into flaming elves with hammers. Alas, nature was calling and refused to quit.

I slammed my lids down over my dry, sticky eyes and tried to prepare myself for the perilous trip to the bathroom. When I kicked at the tangled blankets to release the lower half of my body, that’s when I realized something just wasn’t right. The flaming elves—along with their mean little hammers—had relocated to a place between my ankle and my toes.

I forced my eyes open one last time and with a sense of sheer terror coursing through my being, searched for the source of the searing, throbbing pain.

At the sight of my blood-stained sheets, my stomach did a neat little flip-flop trick that kinda made me want to heave.

“Deep breath!” I said to myself as I gulped in air and held it for a few moments, “Now, wiggle your big toe.“

Worst idea ever.

“Holy mother of God!”

Clearly, all of my digits were still attached and functional so ever-so-slowly moved myself into an upright position. I grabbed the already-defiled sheet and started to gently wipe the sticky almost-dried blood off of the top of my foot.

As the swollen black lines began to peek through the smeared, gelatinous mess, so did the memories. They poured in slowly at first, like I was watching them through a fog, but the more of the ink I uncovered, the more I remembered of the night before.

Groaning, I hobbled my way into the bathroom, trying not to bend or move my ankle. I kicked my leg up, turned on the faucet as cold as I could get it, and held my stinging stump of a foot under the stream. As the rust-colored blood started to loosen up and wash away, my curiosity piqued.

I couldn’t even tell what the damn thing was supposed to be.

Just then, my mobile started ringing from somewhere amongst the pile of clothes that I had somehow managed to remove before I fell into my bed.

Hoping that it was someone with answers, left the faucet running and limped my way back into the bedroom to begin the search.

I found it right before it went to voicemail.

“Yeah?” the voice that came out of me was barely a whisper.

“You mad dog! How’s the foot?”

“Christ, Alex! Tone it down, woman!” I held the phone away from my head a little so that her voice didn’t split my skull in two. “It’s killing me. Whose bright idea was it to let me get a tattoo while I was so pissed? I can’t even believe the guy did the work with me so belligerent! The damn thing is still bleeding!”

The high pitched laugh that came through the speaker told me that she had not had nearly as much as me.

“You ran out screaming bloody murder! Confused the hell out of the poor guy! You really should get back in there and let him finish it off.”

“I don’t even know what the hell it’s supposed to be!”

“Probably a butterfly.”

More maniacal laughter.

“Real cute.” I grumble.

“Look, I’ll be there in twenty and get you back in there. They can fix you up in a jiffy!” after a pregnant pause she added, “Well, the foot at least!” before the line went dead.

“Yeah… Thanks.”

Thirty of the longest minutes of my life later, we were walking through the vaguely familiar front doors of the tattoo parlor. The satanic buzzing of the needles from the back of the shop seemed happy to keep time with the pounding in my skull and I felt the blood rush out of my head and pool in some useless extremity of my body. It was all I could do to keep upright and pray that nobody noticed me sway.

No such luck.

The face that I had convinced myself was a figment of my imagination appeared in the doorway and smiled a sardonic grin.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise? How’s the foot?”

Trying not to pass out and make a complete ass of myself, I laughed nervously, “I uh… Seem to have interrupted your work last night.”

“Yeah you did!” he laughed as he stepped into the lobby, “I think my ears are still ringing!” He glanced down at the bandage on my foot, “You’re not wanting me to finish that are you? If so,” he ran his hand over his short-cropped hair, “you’re shit out of luck. Can’t touch that again until it heals.”

The blood rushed back to my brain in a hurry as my temper flared. “Hell no I’m not getting it finished! You’re gonna take this shit out of my skin! I don’t care if you have to cut it out with a scalpel!”

“We actually let a laser do that part and it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch. You’re not all that good with pain if my memory serves me.” I could see him waging a battle with the mocking stare that kept trying to surface on his face. “Not to mention, you’re looking at at least six sessions before your ink is totally gone.”

“Just get it off me. This…” I pointed in the general direction of my foot, not sure what to call the piece of “art” that had begun to take shape.

“Midget rodeo clown?” he filled in.

Alex nearly dropped to the floor laughing and I stared at her in horror.

“Wait, that really happened? The little guy on the tricycle wasn’t a dream?”

Fuck.

Alex collapsed to the floor in a heap of bellowing laughter.

“Tattoo her. Now. I want it to say “enter at your own risk” just below her…”

She slammed her foot down on the top of my bandaged foot before I could finish my sentence.

As the obscenities flew from my mouth, I tried to stop myself from falling off of the foot that remained on the ground. I failed miserably.

My cart-wheeling fist met the tattoo guys nose with a sickening crunch and a spray of red and I crumpled to the floor at Alex’s feet.

The rest happened in slow motion.

As he stumbled backwards through the door, his hands came up to his face without him seeming to notice. He tripped over his own feet and went down like a felled tree.

A small device about the size of a tattoo gun tumbled off of the table next to him and I saw his eyes go wide when he saw it. The contraption hit the floor with a blinding flash before skittering into a storage closet and beginning its incarnation as a strobe light.

It didn’t take long for the smell of ammonia to reach my nose.

Moments later, a ball of flames shot out of the closet toward my face and time suddenly remembered that it had places to be.

Alex and I scrambled towards the door as the flames began to spread.

Once outside, we watch through the huge glass windows as everyone in the back room makes a mad dash for the rear exit.

After a minute or so of standing there in shock, the sirens in the distance pull us from our reverie. Alex looks over at me, back at the shop, then back at me, a smile slowly creeping into her eyes.

“There’s never a dull moment with you, is there?” she says, flashing her brilliant teeth in my face.

The only thing that seems to come to mind is the Chinese restaurant over her shoulder.

I grab her arm and drag her through the door, not caring if she was hungry.

“I’m starved. Dumplings?”

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