Category Archives: humour


How Alex hated that name, but it followed like a bad smell – Goldilocks, just because he had curly blond hair. Well now he would show them. He had finally left home. He had escaped and was going to make his own way in the world, and what a different world it would be.

The big city felt huge as he traversed the roads, pavements and freeways on his own, especially at this time of night. He had left his parents apartment at midnight, knowing that the whole family would be fast asleep and would regret their teasing when they found him gone in the morning. After all he was eighteen now and had had enough of it all.

Four hours after leaving his bed and wandering the streets with no real destination in mind he was feeling tired. He knew he should have slept more the day before but he had to make a few preparations before leaving. The urban sprawl had lessened by this point and the houses were single level dwellings and more sparse than the huge blocks of flats that he was used to. He decided to see if he could find somewhere to spend the rest of the night before moving on.

Almost all the houses were in darkness, but there was just one where there were lights still on. On the edge of the property there was a small sign that advertised the small cottage as a B&B. It looked like a nice enough place and had a beautiful colourful flag hanging from one of the windows. He decided to chance his luck, knock on the door and ask for a bed for the night.

As he walked up the short pathway he looked in the window, but could see no-one, but it did look homely and welcoming. As he knocked on the door it swung open slightly so he stepped in calling out to see if there was anyone to greet him. No reply came. Dropping his rucksack in the hall he ventured in further.

He guessed that the door to his right led to the kitchen as he could smell some tantalising aromas coming from that direction. As his tummy rumbled he realised it had been a while since he had eaten and that he was in fact just a bit hungry. Pushing the door he stepped into the kitchen. On the table were three covered plates of cakes and cookies. He tried one of the small biscuits from the first plate but found it too salty for his taste. Next he tried one of the little cakes from the second plate but that was way too sweet. Finally he took one of the strange scented brownies from the third plate and found it to taste like heaven on his tongue.  He took another and hungrily scoffed it down, wondering what special ingredient made it taste so good.

Having eaten three of the special-tasting brownies he left the kitchen and set off to see if he could find the manager of the B&B or at least someone who could tell him if he could stay the night there. He skipped up the corridor and knocking on the first door he came to opened it after getting no reply. Taking in the room’s surroundings he was slightly taken aback. It wasn’t like any room he’d seen before. The room was decorated in black and shades of gray. The bed was basic and on a metal frame with what looked like a leather bedspread. It  felt too cold and slightly alien, although intriguing, to Alex so he pulled the door closed and moved on to the next door.

Knocking at the next door he waited to see if there as any reply and when there wasn’t he pushed the door gently open. This room was way different. It was decorated in reds and had plush fittings. The walls were papered in a red velvety type material, and the bed looked like it was far too deep and soft. Spying a feather boa over the ornate bedhead and another around a full length mirror  he then spotted a pair of huge red high heeled shoes. He couldn’t help but giggle and returned to the corridor thinking that it was a very odd kind of B&B.

He was still giggling when he knocked on the next door he came to,although he couldn’t for the life of him remember what had been so funny. Once again he heard no reply, nor could he hear anyone else in the rest of  the building as far as he could tell. He pushed the door open and finding a room much more to his liking closed the door behind him. This room was much more to his taste. There was a huge double, or even king size bed in the middle of the room which looked inviting to the tired alex. On the walls were pictures of cowboys and sportsmen. The room was simply decorated and as Alex sat on the bed tiredness overwhelmed him. Lying back he kicked off his shoes and fell asleep.

Sometime later, Alex was wakened by a noise in the corridor. He sat up quickly and grabbed for his shoes as  the door opened. Three large men entered and loomed over him. They were all bearded with close-cut hair and they were all smiling down at him.

“Well what do we have here?” one of them boomed out.

“A handsome young twink in a state of disarray on our bed,” one of the others replied winking and rubbing his dark beard.

“By his eyes I would say he’s the one who has helped himself to our moon-cakes,” the third one added.

Although Alex was in possibly one of the strangest situations he had ever found himself in he didn’t feel threatened at all by these men. It was quite the opposite in fact. He felt strangely drawn to them. He liked the way they looked.

“Okay, Blondie, what gives?” the first one asked him.

“I,…I, just….” Alex stammered. “I just wanted somewhere to stay the night.”

“And our bed took your fancy” the second man replied.

“Well,” Alex smiled.

“Well indeed,” the third one said…..

And that ladies and gentlemen is the real story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. 


Thanks to Teri for the prompt to rewrite a fairy tale.

And yes the original ‘Three Bears’ were ‘bachelor bears’ sharing a house – Look it up! 


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Round Two

And on a slightly lighter note …  Round / around ….

06 - round1

Yep I love a pun.

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Something Yellow

Hot or cold, thick or runny

In a pie it’s considered funny

Crumbles and pies are better smothered

Trifle needs to be smoothly covered

More please mum, dad often begs

For this pud made with milk, sugar and eggs

Poured all over his spotted dick

Never too much to make him sick

Something I love and enjoy making

A tasty addition to sweet winter baking

02 -Something yellow

Thanks to  for the prompt


Filed under humour, Lyrical or poem


Another mini -saga ( a 50 word story)


‘Gourmet Meal’ the invitation said promising nine courses of edible delights.

Dan knew it would be perfect for him being such a gourmand.

Little did he realise the huge quantities involved and was full by course four.

Course nine was way too much as Dan violently exploded before the coffee.

21 -full

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My name is …

At Fifty three years old this was not where Rupert thought he would end up.  He looked round the room and wondered how his fellow sufferers had arrived here and just what their stories were. Of course his eyes alighted with glee on the redhead on the other side of the room. He’d always had a thing for redheads. For a moment he let his mind wander as he considered how he could get to talk to her.

“Rupert, for God’s sake. remember where you are and what you are doing here,” he whispered to himself. Still he stared at the redhead and when he caught her eye as she coquettishly twirled her hair he smiled and received a welcoming smile back.

For a moment he suddenly realised what possibilities a place like this held for him. They were all here for the same reason. It could be quite a candy store for his favourite kind of opportunity.

He continued to look around the room and calculate the possibilities until the guy at the front coughed loudly. For a moment Rupert thought he was staring straight at him, the game up, but then realised he was just being a little paranoid.

“Good evening everyone, my name is Alistair, for those of you who don’t already know.” Alistair, the guy at the front introduced himself. “And I can see we have quite a few new members this evening.”

Rupert was now sure Alistair was staring straight at him as he made eye contact and nodded in his direction. With his heart in his mouth Rupert stood up.

“Hi, My name is Rupert and I’m a sex addict,” he announced.

03- my name is




Filed under Adult, Contemporary, humour


I’d seen a painting I admired in a local art gallery so decided that today was the day I would pluck up the courage to drop in and see if I could buy it. I knew some about art from studies at school and college, but was no expert and frankly the art world and those within it still intimidated me. Nonetheless it was raining and I had little else to do to fill my evening so I pushed the door and went in. I still had an hour or so before I was to meet Alex for dinner, and buying the painting as an anniversary gift would be perfect.

Inside I found that the gallery wasn’t quite as I had imagined. I thought it would be all open spaces filled with light to show off the pictures, but it was in fact quite small and divided into even smaller spaces, each one dedicated to a specific artist or style, I was soon to find out.

I had been surprised to see this painting that I wanted in the gallery window a couple of days before and set about looking for it. I guessed I didn’t fit the specifications for the day to day gallery visitor in my jeans and  designer jacket. especially as by designer I mean ‘George at Asda’ which is incidentally my favourite jacket ever.

The gallery owner spotted me as I slipped through the door and made a bee-line for me.

“And how can we help sir this terrible evening?” she asked, nose in the air, giving off suspicion as she spoke. “Not great weather to get caught out in,” she added. She had no idea of my bank balance, or my art credentials and I found her implied suggestion that I was sheltering from the rain tantamount to snobbery.

“I saw a piece,” I started, thinking that by saying piece instead of painting or picture it would sound better. “in the window a couple of days ago and thought I’d drop in and take a closer look.”

“Aha, I think I know the one sir means,” She drawled moving into the gallery after having given me the once over and from the look on her face deciding that she didn’t approve of what she saw. Snooty as hell this one.

She moved towards one of the back rooms, right past the painting I wanted to see. I called her up short and stopped in front of the one I fancied. She took a few steps back towards me, nodded and started to tell me everything about the artist, their technique and why the painting was an excellent example of his style.

“Chiaroscuro,” the she droned on, “the blend of light and dark in this piece is exceptional. I am sure you will agree.” She clearly thought I had no idea of what she was talking about.

I was just about to explain my point of view, for I knew the artist well enough, when the bell above the entrance door rang violently and the light went out.

The gallery owner screamed and, from the sound of her heels on the floor, ran in the opposite  direction. I moved back against the wall as I felt someone else run past. I had no idea what was happening and didn’t want to get caught up in it either.

Less that five minutes later the light came back on, just as an alarm starting screaming from somewhere above me. I found myself staring at a bare wall in front of me. Alex’s finest piece of work had gone. I hoped the gallery had good insurance. I knew the value of Alex’s masterpiece and without proper insurance the gallery would find their bank balance a couple of hundred thousand pounds light!

26 - Light


Filed under Contemporary, humour, Intrigue


Meredith walked slowly down the corridor listening intently as she did so. She was sure she’d heard a noise from the kitchen, which was strange as she knew she was alone in the house until Josh got home and that would be at least two hours away.

Meredith was a pretty, petite redhead with freckles that she had hated when she was a child, but had now accepted as the delightful feature that they were. She was a year three school teacher and at work wore formal wear to accentuate her authority. At home she favoured casual clothes and on this night was wearing one of her husbands checked shirts over a pair of old jogging pants. She had been cutting up cloth for a school project she was preparing for the next day when she had been startled by the noise and had cut her hand. Blood dripped from it along the floor beside her footsteps. On her face there were more cuts leftover from some work she had taken on in the garden. These were were drying now, but added to her slightly forlorn look.

“Hello?” she called to see if anyone would answer, “Hello, is anyone there?”

Meredith and Josh were staying in the old Newman house while they waited for theirs to be renovated. They had moved in just a few days ago and still Meredith wasn’t used to it. To her it felt like it had a life of its own. She had heard stories about the house when she was a child. Stories that could make the hair on the back of your arm stand on end, but refused to give them any credence now she was an adult.

Even though she was walking slowly she soon arrived at the kitchen door. The opaque glass gave nothing away of what was on the other side. Meredith grabbed the handle ready to turn and push. All of a sudden there was an unearthly groan from the other side of the door. Meredith’s face changed just as suddenly from worry to abject fear. She pulled back from the door for a second and pressed herself against the wall in the dim light that filtered through the door.

She wasn’t sure why, but guessed it was the stress, as without warning a fit of the giggles grew within her bursting out of her mouth as she stood back to the wall.

“Cut….Cut,” Marcello shouted. “Janice you’re supposed to be in mortal danger, not giggling like a schoolgirl.”

“Sorry, Marcello,” Janice aka Meredith replied as she returned back to the other end of the corridor to shoot the scene one more time.

25 -cut

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