DWP No. 008


Welcome to WEEK TWO!

Congrats to Craven, Evan and Donnie (and a small whisper for Mary), for submitting a post for each day of the first week and being so participatory! Obviously it has been difficult for me to keep track of exactly who has participated every day, from the beginning, so please, keep a tally for yourself on the honor system, and correct me if I’m wrong.

Let’s keep this thing going strong for another week! (just breathe; take it a day at a time)


Each prompt this week will have instructions as to the genre in which you ought to attempt to write. Please also remember to comment, thoughtfully and intelligently, to others’ writings.

Oh, geez.

genre: FICTION





  1. Oh Geez, competition will most definitely have me sharpening my pencil. Oh how I hate not to be a winner! I dream about that casting call when I am shuffled out on stage- draped with a satin sash and displayed for all the people “that matter” to clap and look upon me with new eyes. Me, finally, a rare diamond they have just unearthed from the rubble.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. In an ironic sense, the reader could also “Oh, geez” the protagonist with an accompanying eye roll. This effectively paints an entertaining picture in my mind.


  2. “Are those leftovers?” The raggedy man with the fingerless gloves said, pointing.
    “Yeah,” Pam said, “it’s just from my work. Are you hungry?” She held the container out to him.
    “Yes, thanks. I don’t care where it’s from. You know…homeless,” the man said.
    There wasn’t much in the box, barely enough to warrant taking home. Truth is, she mostly took it because she felt guilty throwing it away. Inside were two small pieces of steak snatched from a catering table at the wedding she just werked. It wasn’t enough for a meal, she had just thought. She had just come up with a plan to eat it with some eggs and potatoes in the morning. That would stretch it out into a meal.

    The next morning she thought about how good the steak would have been as she prepared her eggs. Then she laughed, called the boss and said she wasn’t coming in. From her closet, she pulled the old coat she used to change her oil, a camera and a pair of fingerless gloves. Just on the other side of the door she remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth.
    Aw, geez.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. “Oh, geez.”

    She stands and wipes at her brow. Sticky, a dark black substance dabs off on her fingertips. What. The. Hell, she thinks curiously to herself. She turns and checks the rest of her physical state. Disheveled, a foot not shod reveals the wiggle of her toes. That. Is. Good, she decides confusedly to herself. She looks beyond the self belonging to her own. Survivor, a scene of chaos unfolds before her as the ground lay strewn with bloodied bodies. What. The. Fuck, she gasps horrified with herself. She sees and reaches for the sword at her feet. Champion, a heavily raised arm reaches high into the sky as fireworks blaze in the name of her glory. Yes. I. Did, she shouts victoriously to herself.

    TK Camas

    Liked by 3 people

  4. She slipped the pink and white gingham, grease-stained oven mitts onto her fragile, wrinkled hands. She was the kind of woman who would obsessively clean her hands with rubbing alcohol and moisturize immediately after to remedy the abrasive chemicals that dried her skin. Those hands are the smoothest I’ve ever felt, cupping my face to look into my eyes as if greeting me when I entered her home was the most important thing she had done all day.

    “Oh geez, honey. I knew that girl was an asshole. You always knew how to pick ‘em.”

    Her back curved seamlessly into her neck, making her 2 inches shorter than she was in her youth. She bent down further to open the oven and pulled out the casserole in the dish with the soft pink flowers etched into the side. Setting the casserole abruptly on the top of the stove, she waved a mitt in front of her face to ward off the heat, knocking the cascading vine of leaves that hung just over the sink. Her house was covered in plants. She liked to call them her babies.

    “Uh!” I gasped in mocking offense, knowing full well I have a broken picker, “Whatever do you mean?”

    “Oh hush, girlie. You know exactly what I’m talkin’ bout,” she said in her thick Louisiana drawl.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I want to know more about this “I” in this piece, so intriguing.

      Also, Welcome to Writing Practitioners. I believe I found you on Meetup. Sorry if you were unable to “Pledge,” but this month is a bit of a free-for-all. I’m glad you’re here! Thanks for sharing your writing with us.


  5. “Ooooooooh. Geez! Like the word ‘geez’. Like gosh or dammit.”
    “Well I thought you were talkin’ about O.G.’s. Like gangstas.”
    “Why would I be-”
    “I dunno. I thought it was weird you said it, too.”
    “But I didn’t say it.”
    “Well, we’ll see about tha-”
    Captain Gummigold raised a pudgy finger to the greasy touchpad and pressed off the monitor, silencing the pair of new-hire geniuses and effectively sparing everyone else in the control room the sacrifice of brain cells necessary to follow that worthless rabbit-hole of a conversation. Rotating in the orbit of his own monstrosity, Gummigold turned to face the two cowering underlings before him and make a show of his bubbling displeasure. They were new. They hadn’t yet become acquainted with his particular brand of discipline. And it had been quite some time since there was any fresh meat on the ship, so the doling out of reparations due to oversight or human error had actually become quite rare. In a not insignificant way, tonight would be a very healthy experience for the crew as a whole. For them, they would share in the pain and loss of innocence these two boys were about to receive, a critical bonding experience for positive psychological relationships on their frequent long hauls between star systems. And for Captain Gummigold, it would be a much needed physical release valve from the stress, pent-up energy, and the vigilant maintenance of complex networks of intellectual architecture that he had been solely and critically responsible for during this decade-long tour of duty. Quite contrary to his repulsive physical appearance, his mind was an expertly tuned instrument and fit enough to withstand the culling of the sixth generation. Even these boys’ absentmindedness somehow appeared to be just another series of events chugging along on some master script Gummigold had already written, read, edited and just about become bored with, ad infinitum. But, given the recent eventlessness in combination with how well improved Gummigold’s performance will be moving forward, a little part of everyone there was a little relieved and little better off for it when the Captain smirked a little smirk and started to stretch his fingers.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Oh, geez. She did it again. She needed to check to make sure that the stove was off and that there was nothing underneath the dishwasher and the outlets were totally free and clear and oh geez she she didn’t do that along with not checking to make sure that the extension cord was not touching any part of the woodwork and all the furniture and that the bedroom door upstairs was exactly one and a half inches open and no more. Oh and oh geez, she didn’t make sure that the dogs beds were away from the outlets and that the microwave was totally off and that the top of the stove was perfectly and now, dang it she wears late and she was supposed to be The Profesdional. Professional what? Perky wondered.what was she going to do now it was 950 and she was going to be late for work. Oh geez could she tell them again about the horrible Seattle traffic? Could she try out the old excuse about the 18 wheelers on I-5 and that people were cutting her off and she had to use your four-way hazard flashers even though she wasn’t having a hazard. Oh geez she was worried now about some of the outlets and whether or not they were perfectly clear oh geez what was she going to do in the morning if she hadn’t checked them before bed and made sure,I mean really made sure, that the stove was off and there was nothing underneath the dishwasher and that the outlets were clear and that she could finally tell the truth. Those arrogant bastards.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Great voice! The rhythm here really enhances each “Oh, geez” moment of stress (or OCD?). The piece itself exudes stress as you read, and honestly, I couldn’t help but feel a bit stressed out myself.


  7. Detective Stone had a drawn, withered face which generally had people aging him 20 years in their minds. They’d approach him thinking he was frail and be shocked when a robust man popped out in front of them. It wasn’t that he had had an especially hard life, but, by no means had it been pleasant.
    He was born into one of those faded blue collar families. They, his parents had been raised without hope and they were making sure their kid got the same treatment. If it was good enough for them…

    He and his friends pretty much got the same treatment. Some of them beat harder and more often for less, but pretty much the same. It was like all of their parents wanted to slap their kids down for dreaming and wanting more. Maybe they just wanted to slap their own kids down before others did. Of course, Johnnie’s mom was nuts. She was always telling Johnnie he’d go to college and he could be anything. Oh geez, we all knew that wasn’t happening

    Liked by 2 people

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