Short post and a blog award

Busy . . . typing . . . busy . . . writing . . . busy

Yes, I'm busy write, er, right now. This makes it the perfect day to post about an award I received.

Angie from "Notes from the Writing Chair" gave me this Heartfelt award. Thank you so much, Angie! Please go visit her and give much blog love. Since there were no rules about this award, I'm allowing anyone who wants it to take it.

Okay! I'm off.

typing . . . writing . . . busy . . . typing . . . writing . . . busy . . .

Oh, all right. I guess I could come up with something!
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Jack versus Jill: The crime rhyme of the century

Jack and Jill
went up the hill
to fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down
and broke his crown,
and Jill came tumbling after . . .

Was it an attempted rape or murder/suicide? This is what the jury must decide.

The small suburb of Goosentooth was shaken up by the dismal events that had transpired a mere week ago. Jack Thimble was found at the bottom of Sutter’s Hill bleeding profusely from his crown. Jill Moore was found unconscious near his body.

Paramedics rushed both to Mercy Hospital where the doctors discovered Jack had multiple skull fractures. After undergoing four straight hours of intensive surgery, the doctors finally had him in stable condition. Jill suffered minor bruises and was released.

When questioned, Jill Moore seemed tense with her responses.

Jill: Well, me and Jack went out back. We ate our fries and Big Mac. We got thirsty and saw the pail. That’s when Jack said, “What the hell, why don’t we go up to Sutter’s well? We’ll get a drink from the Hill, and then maybe you and I can have a little thrill? You have a fine-looking ass. We can roll around on that grass.”

Once we got up there, Jack started getting rough - acting all macho and tough. I told him I didn’t want any more. He called me a dirty little whore. We pushed each other and tumbled down. That’s when Jack broke his crown.
***
Unfortunately, when Jack Thimble regained consciousness, he had a different story to tell and it didn’t cast Jill Moore in the best of lights . . .

Jack: I received a text message on my cell. Jill said to meet her at Sutter’s well. I hadn’t seen that chick in ages. I dropped her off my address book pages. I already had a girl I plan on marrying. How could I have known Jill had a torch for me she was still carrying?

I went up that hill as she snuck around back. That girl was doped up on some serious crack. She threw herself down at my feet, saying my love makes her heart do mighty beats. I started walking away. She went insane and tackled me on that day. Next thing I knew, I woke up in this hospital bed. The doctors wrapped all these bandages around my head. Look at this long stitch! I plan to sue that crazy BITCH!
***
When questioning Jill Moore’s parents, they had a somber tale concerning their daughter.

Jill’s father: Her Ma and I tried doing everything for that girl, but her mind was in some depressed whirl. Back in high school, Jill and Jack had dated. But a life together was never fated. They broke up and Jill took off after that. We had no idea where she was at. How could we have known her heart was so forlorn . . . she would start stripping in movies for porn?

When she got too many rejections from the talent scout, she began tricking her body out. For every John driving her way, she spread her legs for their cheap pay. Yet she still loved the boy Jack, which is why to Goosentooth she headed on back. Unfortunately, she saw Jack walking around with his new tart, and this was like a knife stab in my daughter’s heart. She got into some heavy drinking, and started doing some serious thinking. Later she left her room, mumbling about seeking someone’s doom. The last words we heard from Jill on that terrible day. “I’ll make Jack mine or in death we will both lay.”
***
Although these dismal circumstances would convince most people that Jack Thimble’s rendition of the events was true, we received a disturbing account from Jack’s fiance, Miss Amy Muffet.

Amy: Jack hasn’t been all right. It began during these past couple of nights. He had heard of an old girlfriend returning here. And Jack’s face had this awful leer. I found movies hidden in the cupboard where I kept my dishes. I didn’t know my future husband had such strange sex fetishes. Women performed those nasty things, hanging from rafters while wrapped in bondage rings. What I found disturbing when watching the girl doing her lustful spiel, was that all the movies featured the bimbo named Jill.

When I confronted Jack about this, he became majorly pissed. He warned, “I’ll do anything I damn well please, even if it’s going to look at this girl doing her striptease. She satisfies me in ways you can’t. So I don’t want to hear any of your bitchy rants. She’s my thrill - my lusty hoe named Jill.”

Then Jack got into his car. I figured he was going out to the bar. Then I heard the news story about an accident on Sutter’s Hill. I knew it had to involve my Jack and that poor girl Jill.
***
So the trial will commence featuring Jack Thimble and Jill Moore. Who is telling the truth? Was it a deranged man wanting to experience a naughty sex scene in a movie? Or was it a depressed woman’s attempt to rekindle a love not there as she sought to be forever with him in death?

An attempted rape or a murder/suicide? This is what my readers must decide . . .