Silly Santa's Adventurous Mystery Continues

Good afternoon, folks! We're up and running again. Now I can finish my story. Well...maybe it'll take a few more posts.

 

Anyway, I do believe I left off at that Hair Ball being put into confinement.

"When I get out of here, I'm coming for your squeakers!" Hair Ball said. "Mahawawawa!"

Lo and behold, we had some unexpected help.

Edwin Elf! 

And the fierce Snidley Snowman.

They let us know that they understood the in and outs of that beast. 

"Now listen," Edwin said. "He's not as smart as you all think he is."

"He'll be a piece of cake to take on," Snidely Snowman said.

"I'm sorry," Penelope Polar Bear said. "I just don't believe that. Once he's let loose he's coming for our squeakers. He said so himself."

 

"Where would we all be without Positive Penny, here." Penquin Phil gave her a scowl.

The elf tapped his chin. "I have a plan."

Not long after he said that, the Mummsy-lady came into the room and opened up the cage the hairy monster was in.

We all scattered. Edwin and Snidely ran toward a mountainous wall. 

"This way!" Snidely shouted, guiding us a with his hand.

"Hurry!" Edwin yelled, leaping up the wall.  

"Mahawawa!" Hair Ball charged at all of us. "When I'm done with them," he hollered to Edwin Elf, "I'm coming for your spindly legs. I love spaghetti!"

I ran straight toward Edwin and Snidely along with my friends.

"Use my legs," the elf said. "To pull yourselves up."

I pulled myself up with the Elf's legs as did my friends.

"I'm going to get you! You, traitor!" Hair Ball bared his teeth.

"Aaaaaaa!" Penelope screamed.

"Shut up or I'll slap you silly!" Penguin Phil reached for Edwin. "You seriously need some Zanax!"

A big roar came out of Snidley.

The beast backed off. But he paced back and forth. "I'm going to do to all of you what I did to Randy Reindeer. I know what I'm having for Christmas. And it will be a merry one. Mahawawawa!"

So it looks like my friends, the rescuers, and I will have to camp out here for Christmas. So I hope we survive and that you all have a Merry Christmas.

Silly Santa signing out for now!

To be continued...

Silly Santa and Freedom of Speech

Hello, folks! Silly Sant here. I've been unable to get our story out about Randy Riendeer. There have been some issues with Blogger. 

However, I'm of the opinion that this mongrel is the one behind the suppressing of my right to get the truth out there.

This fury fluff-ball isn't innocent. I believe he has conspired against myself and my Pets Mart friends.

But I will not be faint of heart. Some how, some way, I will prevail and exercise my right to Freedom of Speech!

Technical Difficulties

Currently, Silly Santa is having issues with Blogger. He's gotten an error message that his computer's browser is not supported by Blogger and is unable to download his pictures.

Hopefully, he'll be able to post everything within 24 hours.

Silly Santa's Mystery Adventure Continues

Monday, I left everyone hanging. Sorry about that. Now on with my story!

Like I said before, I stood fearless in front of the beast. "Let Lucky-Clucky go! You mongrel!"

In the blink of an eye, that Mummsy-lady scooped up Hair Ball. 'It's time for a bath," she said in a sing-song-sort-of-way. It reminded me of Mrs. Silly Santa. Her voice sounds the same way.

Anyway, the Mummsy-Lady whisked him away up some stairs, and we followed.

We had to leave a wounded Lucky-Clucky behind. I wasn't sure if he'd ever get his squeak back. I pondered it as we followed the Mummsy-Lady.

 

"We really should've stayed with Lucky-Clucky," Penelope Polar Bear wailed. "His squeaker is all gone. He lost his beak, too!" She went on and on all the way up the stairs.

 

"Shut-up! Will you!" Penguin Phil lost his patience. "Don't ever ask me ever again why you're still not married. Now I know why.

 

Penelope sobbed more.

 

"You're going to die an old maid, I tell ya!" Phil had an issue speaking his mind.

 

"Okay, you two. Enough," I said. "Our focus is to find Randy Reindeer and help Lucky-Clucky get his squeaker back."

We finally made it to the top of the stairs and made a right into a large, peculiar-looking room. It resembled a high tech torture room ... close to Gitmo. The beast was there tied to a red wire. 

My compadres and I hopped onto the torture pits ledge.

"Hey! Beast!" I yelled.

With his snout, that Hair Ball knocked me off my feet.

"You wanna fight, big man!" Penguin Phil did some fancy footwork and threw two punches at him. "I'll show you!"

The monster swung his giant head toward Phil, and sniffed.

"Let's go!" Penelope Polar Bear cried, visibly shaking. "We should get Lucky-Clucky while we can! He needs his squeaker back before he dies." She jumped off the ledge and hid in a corner.

The Mummsy-lady came into the room, leaned over us, and turned on a knob. Water poured out of a spicket.

Next, she began pouring cups of it over the beast.

Hair Ball let out a couple of yelps.

"We'll be able to get some answers now," Phil said, rubbing his hands together.

"Good old fashion water boarding," I said. And to the Mummsy lady, I said, "Thank you, ma'am. What would you like for Christmas?" 

She didn't respond and squirted blue stuff all over the hairy creature.

He squealed and quivered.

When she finished with the blue liquid, she roughed him up into a lather. Then, she left the room. 

It was my chance to question him.

"What did you do to our friend Rany Reindeer, beast?!"

"I'll tell you if you let me go."

"Don't trust him!" Penelope hollered up at me. "He's smarter than he looks!"

Before, I could get anything out of the mut, the Mummsy lady came back into the room. More water boarding began. But after, she wrapped him in a towel and picked him up. "You smell so much better. No more dirty sock stink." She spoke in baby-talk and dashed out of the room.

My compadres and I followed her down the stairs. There, she put him in confinement.

I glared into his scowled face and he said, "When I get out of here, I'm coming for you and your friends' squeakers! Mawahahahaha!"

To be continued next Monday...

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: Silly Santa Reports and Lucky-Clucky

It's Monday, folks. And I, Silly Santa along with my compadres: Lucky-Clucky, Penguin Phil, and Penelope Polar Bear had set out to search for Randy Riendeer and his whereabouts. But sometimes the best laid plans can go amuck.

So far, we have found absolutely nothing. However, we believe we found the suspect, Hair Ball's  food bowl.

So we searched out into the great unknown for more clues. This is when things began to heat up.

We encountered the suspect. He sniffed and then stared at our compadre, Lucky-Clucky. It made me a nervous-nilly.

"Lucky-Clucky," I said. "Whatever you do. Don't move."

My poor little friend shook, nodding his head. I know he was counting on me.

Everyone else froze.

Before our friend could even let out a cheep that beast knocked him over.

"Put 'em up! Put 'Em up!" Phil did a shadow box dance around the criminal, swinging his fists at him.

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" Penelope Polar Bear shouted.

Without notice, that Hair Ball grabbed up Lucky-Clucky.

His screams pierced my eardrums.

"Don't worry!" I hollered. "We'll save you!"

We climbed a nearby ledge, thinking we'd sneak attack him.

But the monster had Lucky-Clucky between his teeth. We couldn't tell if he was dead or alive. He had suddenly fell silent.

 

"He's dead. I just know it!" Penelope had a hard time being positive.

 

Phil crossed his arms. "Shut your pie hole up! Will you?" To me, he said, "Why in the world did you ever think bringing her would help?"

 

"We don't have time for this," I said. "Lucky-Clucky needs us!"

 

We were at a loss as to what to do. But we scurried down the ledge and followed Hair Ball into a strange room.   

We did our best to blend in with a bowl of fruit and come up with a plan.

"But I think he's dead," Penelope cried. Her fur cheeks were soaked. "Can't we just go home before we're next? I already know what happened to Randy Reindeer." The poor dear wailed herself into hysterics.

"I told you, we should've left her at Pets Mart." Phil gave me a scowl.

"But she's a fierce polar bear," I said. "She's our best chance."

"Ha! Look at her. She's a blubbering mess," Phil said. He was right. There was only one thing to do.

Hiding in the fruit bowl gave me some time to figure out what we were going to do. We decided since I was Silly Santa that I would be the one to confront the beast.

 

"Hey!" I stood tall and fearless before the wild beast.

To be continued on Wednesday...

What is a Drug Addict?

I wrote a poem of sorts the other day and posted it to my Facebook wall. So I'm sharing it here since it pretty much goes with my Thursday/Friday theme. Not to mention, I went south to visit my grandsons. And that seems to slap me in the face every time I go back. Memories suck sometimes. No to mention, daughters number 3 and 4 struggle with drug addiction. Its a constant battle.

So here it is:

What is a Drug Addict?

A daughter
A son
A wife
A husband
A mom
A dad
They expect everyone to cater to their needs
Pay their rent...
Buy their gas
Buy their food
While they invest in their habit
They're emotional thieves
Stealing their families love
Their trust
Their money
Always blaming everyone around them for the addiction they crave
No one matters
Nothing is good
Everyday is a bad day
It's always someone else's fault
Life dealt them a bad deck
They're skillful hunters
Seeking to use whatever weapon against their prey
Leaving their entire family bruised

Shelly Arkon 2014

 

Hugs and chocolate, everyone!

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: ISWG: A Silly Santa Mystery

Ho-Ho! They call me Silly Santa and I'm on a mission to find Randy Reindeer. He was last seen with a woman named, Mummsy. She brought him to her house in a Pet's Mart shopping bag sometime last year around this very same time.

Me and my friends,

Penelope Polar Bear

Lucky-clucky

 and Penguin Phil are here to help me in my search.

It's been rumored that someone named Hair Ball may have ravaged poor Randy Reindeer. Below is  the suspect's mugshot.

Don't let this creature fool you with those sappy-innocent-looking eyes. He's armed and dangerous with some sharp artillery. The best known to man, the fur, and feathered kind.

This was the last we heard of  Randy Reindeer. 

Has anyone seen him? 

We'll be back Monday with a full report on what we found.

This post was brought to you by Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Group, where writers cry and laugh together, whine and encourage each other.

I hope I got the last part right since I deliver toys for a living.

Cookies and milk to everyone!

Silly Santa

Vodka, Pills, and a Guardian Angel

Like I ended my last post, mom wasn't like other moms. My step-dad had no clue what he had gotten himself into. As for my real dad, it felt like an eternity when I got to see him again.

My mom made sure that our step-dad would become the father that I knew. Speaking of my real one became a taboo.

It didn't help that I resembled my dad and my sister missed him horribly. My step-dad did his best to fill his shoes. He really was wonderful to my sister and I.

He was the rock in our lives when our mom would go into her dark times.This happened   frequently. 

She would sleep a lot and keep every curtain in the house closed. She would cry and nothing would make her happy. Not even my step-dad. But he was patient.

This crazy part of her would last for weeks on end. Being a little girl it felt like an infinity. As I got older, I would stay home from school and take care of her. I even learned by the time was 8 to scramble eggs, make a mean grilled cheese, and how to heat up a can of Campbell's soup.

My step-dad was the best. He wore a badge of patience. And many times he came home at the right time. He was clearly our guardian angel.

"What are you doing?" My step-dad shook her one evening.

Mom just stared blankly ahead.

A booze bottle and some pills occupied the kitchen counter. Mom had been sitting on a stool staring into space for what seemed like hours. My 3 year-old sister and I tried many times to get her attention. But it was of no use. Our snack time didn't happen that day.

 My step-dad grabbed the booze bottle and the pills. He dumped the bottle and threw the pills away. After, he walked mom to their room and tucked her into bed. 

That night, my sister, step-dad, and I feasted at the Golden Arches.

To be continued...

Getting All Pretty for Thanksgiving

Good morning, nice people! 

As you can see, I'm stuck in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture. I don't understand why Mummsy even bothers anymore. I'm old and don't really care how I look or smell anymore. It would be nice if I could just sleep and eat. That's it! That's all I need.

If I were you, I'd stop complaining. Be thankful you're still with us. Besides, Grandpa is coming for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. We have to be at our best. Maybe if you didn't whiz and poo all over yourself, you wouldn't need tortured.

Hmmf! As always your stupid, stupid. Why can't you just agree with me for once!

Stop whining, pansy-boy! People don't like complainers. Count your blessings and help me wish all the nice people a Happy Thanksgiving.

We love your visits, the treats, and the belly rubs you all give!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lots of Licks and belly rubs!

Sir Poops and Hair Ball

Severed

People were yelling at each other in my kitchen. It sounded like mom and dad. So I dropped the doll that I was playing with, toddled out of my bedroom, and down the wooden staircase.

Their voices grew louder and angrier as I passed through the creme and turquoise colors of the living room.

I stopped dead in my tracks, shocked, and feeling helpless. A four-year-old can't protect themselves let a grown man like my dad.

Mom stood to the right of me, baring a pointed knife. Dad was to my left, arms spread wide, palms up. He was far enough away not to get stabbed.

I don't remember saying anything to either one of them. But they both went silent and both glanced down at me.

Mom dropped her weapon. 

It wasn't long after this event that my sister, mom, and I were on a plane to Florida.

Years later, my dad explained that the incident was over her obsession to strip and wax the floors throughout their house every other day, including the wooden staircase. Everyone in the house had slipped and hurt themselves on the later. 

He just couldn't deal with her obsessions anymore, the violence, or her wacky stories.

Mom wasn't like other moms or wives. I learned that early on.

To be continued...

Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

"A little white lie never hurt anyone." That was a line I heard most of my life from my mom. Her little white lies had a tendency to turn into whoppers.

After Christmas, birthdays, or major purchases, you could find her in any customer service line. Her favorite store was Wal Mart. At one time, they took any merchandise without a receipt and gave a cash refund. It was definitely a money making venture for her. And a rather embarrassing one for me.

To this day, I still remember the store clerk at Wal Mart telling her, "Sorry ma'am, but we have never carried this item in our store." The guy even cocked his brow at her and ended the conversation with, "Ever."

"But I just bought it from here."

"Where's you're receipt?"

"I must've thrown it away," she'd say.

"Sorry, ma'am. No receipt. No refund." The guy ran his scanner over the item. "And once again, we've never carried this item."

"Are you calling me a liar?!"

I waited for the guy to whip out a big bar of Dial soap or Tobbasco Sauce. Something she gave my sister, brother, and I when we told big ones or said a really bad word.

I really believe she's the reason why most stores give you a refund on a gift card nowadays.

More to come next week...

Personal Stuff

I thought I'd start a series of sorts on this blog about what it was like for me growing up. So...yeah, I'll be talking about my family. Some are real wonky.

The plan is to post these by Thursday or Friday each week. But then again, my schedule is crazy.

My first post will be about my mom. What she was like and what my sibs and I endured.

My thoughts on posting some personal stuff will be in hopes to inspire or help others. And how the people in a writer's life may affect our stories.

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend! I'll be with the Glowstick and visiting my Little-Pizza-Party-Boy having some fun. Love being a grandmother!

Hugs and chocolate!

Shelly

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: ISWG: Surviving the Mummsy Pandemic

I

Hey, nice people. It's me Hair Ball. I think Mummsy has lost her mind. She's been going nuts trying on special suits and funny looking masks-and not the Halloween kind.

Right now, she's pretty upset that there are no more special suits for me and my brother on Amazon. So she's fitting me into this black contraption just in case. I. HATE. IT!

Ever since Ebola touched land in the United States she's been stockpiling things, too.

She says she can't imagine her life without the following, if things go to a full blown pandemic:

Pens and pencils

Tablets

Books

Chocolate

Popcorn

Corn Chips

Tea bags

Water

Batteries

Candles

Vitamin C

Post-It Notes

Fur-peep treats and food

Food for her and Daddy-o

And I can't forget Sir Poops's diapers. It wouldn't be a good thing without them. I personally wouldn't want to be stuck in the house with poo piles. He's not known as Sir Poops for nothing. His name rings true, especially now that he's sick and old.

So I hope everyone is prepared for whatever could happen. I think all of our writer friends would go crazy without writerly things. I know Mummsy would.

This post was written on behalf of Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Group, with intentions to help and encourage. Not to scare anyone. Just saying.

Lots of licks and belly rubs,

Hair Ball and Sir Poops

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: ISWG: Self-Reflection

Hello, nice people! I know. I'm late posting for this group. I hope Mr. Alex will forgive me. We've been busy this week examining ourselves, our work, and how we live at my house. Yom Kippor is coming.

Mummsy's been letting Killer Stilettos sit while she contemplates it. In the meantime, she's drafting another piece.

She's also wondering if she should draft a few stories before publishing another one. Maybe if she drafts several then she could have a year where she polishes them and then publishes. She's learned what works for one writer doesn't work for another.

Mummsy gets overwhelmed with paperwork and business matters. So I guess for now she's just focusing on her writing projects until they're all complete.

But she will be publishing a short story before the end of the year. Samah Ronit.

Update on Sir Poops: my brother is still with us. He sleeps a lot though. It scares me when he struggles to breathe. Most nights Mummsy sleeps with him on the sofa because of it.

That's all I have for now. Hope everyone takes time this week and think about how they can become better people. I've been trying to share. This next year, I'm going to try even harder to do so. It's not been too hard to give up certain things to help my brother. Lately, I've been letting him lick my bowl.

Okay. Gotta go. See you, nice people next month.

Lots of licks and belly rubs,

Hair Ball

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: ISWG: When Things Go Awry

Good morning, nice people!

SPAL: I'm still here. Having my ups and downs. My legs wobble now when I stand and walk. But when I hear the word treat, I can't help but do my happy-foodie-dance.

HB: Yup. He's even making out outside when his pooper goes crazy.

SPAL: Well, I've learned a lot since I've been around Mummsy. Never give up when things go awry.

HB: Yeah. A lot of things have done that over the last several months. Her Killer Stilettos MS has more than writing issues with it. So she's working on other manuscripts.

SPAL: And last week, her computer screen was black for three days until Daddy-o fixed it.

HB: Yeah. Then Friday, she was home sick with a sinus and ear infection. 

SPAL: And a week before that, she had a  stye in her eye for three weeks. But Mummsy stayed determined to work on her writing even if it was at 10 and 15 minute intervals.

HB: Yeah. She's even got family issues again that have her driving back and forth     two counties away.

SPAL: I'm like my Mummsy. I keep going and doing no matter what has gone amuck. 

This post was written on behalf of Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Group.

We hope everyone gets lots of belly rubs and licks today! And we'll see you, nice people next month.

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: Hanging in There

Hello, nice people!

No. I'm not dead. Not yet anyway. I'm enjoying Mummsy's laundry. She went away for a few days.

She's been helping my sister, Summy-sum-a-lum. She had a little Tortino.

So I'm resting and pacing myself. I've been taking my time on many things. Eventually, I'll get everything completed. I'm done worrying about anything. It's just not worth it.

This post was written for Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Group.

Hopefully, Hair Ball will have a few interviews done soon.

Lots of licks and belly rubs!

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: Taking Time

Hello, nice people! Hair Ball, here.

Me and Sir Poops will only be posting for the ISWG, on the first Wednesday of the month.

I want to keep my brother around as long as possible. If anyone wants an interview or help revealing a cover email us at: authorshellyarkon@gmail.com. Mummsy will give us the message.

Also, we promised to interview Bish's spider. We have yet to do that and are hoping to have it ready by August 1st.

Me and Sir Poops give you lots of lovey-loves and belly rubs.

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: ISWG

Hello, nice people. Today, I thought I would do the post. A lot of you already know that my days are numbered.

Saturday, Mummsy rushed me to the vets. I was gasping to breathe. We found out I have enlarged heart and fluid in my lungs. Plus, colitis.

Right now, Mummsy is giving me a heart and lung medication to keep me comfortable.

So I want to say, never give up. Take time to smell everything and eat treats. Even when you're in pain stay happy. Give and receive lots of belly rubs and lovey-loves. Keep a sense of humor. Accidents and diapers are a part of life. And remember God is always with you no matter what stage of life you're in.

This post was written on behalf of Alex J. Cavanaugh's, Insecure Writer's Group.

Lots of licks and belly rubs,

Sir Poops

PS Mummsy will do her best to read blogs today.