Before you get too impressed, I should point out that NWR is a blog, and not a hard-hitting news magazine on a major TV network. Still, when someone offers you a job, even a free one with no health benefits, it’s just hard to say no. This is particularly true when that someone is the mysterious and talented wise-ass known to many as Blogdramedy.
She and I have collaborated in the past on the infamous “paint-color names” and “answering life’s difficult questions” posts. I’ve also participated in a couple of her challenges, including the recent Dog Days of Summer as well as the Reindeer Hunger Games back around the holidays. She recruited me to sign onto this new venture for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was my apparent inability to say to “no” to hot blonds in cool shades.
I can take solace in the fact that I’m not the only blogger who can’t refuse this siren of the blogosphere. I’m joined by some incredible writers who will be taking turns posting their own warped views each Saturday morning.
The first Saturday morning I was assigned was the one at the start of a major 3-day holiday weekend. Strategically, this works to my advantage, since many people are too busy trying to squeeze the last drops out of summer and won’t be sitting at their laptops sipping coffee. This way when my numbers look bad, I can blame the holiday and not my mediocre post.
Hey, what’s she gonna do anyway? Fire me?
So in addition to following me blindly here, I’ll be posting over there one Saturday every month. I’ll try to remind you. You can always reach The Nudge Wink Report by clicking on the icon for it on the right border of this very blog. Okay, back to your regularly scheduled barbeque.
This is day one of Blogdramedy’s BlogShorts, a short-story writing challenge. It spans ten days, includes ten short stories, each a mere 110 words. This year’s theme: The Dog Days of Summer. Today’s subject is none other than Stephen King’s loveable scamp, Cujo.
Books don’t tell the whole story.
Lotta people thought it was a bite from a rabid raccoon, maybe a fox. I’ll be honest, it wasn’t rabies. Rabies is just a cop out, like PMS for the ladies, know what I mean?
It seems trivial looking back, but at the time, it was maddening. The collar wasn’t too bad, fit okay, but the license! That shitty little piece of tin hung there, jingling against the ring on the collar if I so much as blinked my eye. I couldn’t cut a fart without that fucker making a sound.
One day, I heard that sound one time too many and I snapped.
The following blogs have also vowed to participate. Time will tell if they actually run with the big dogs, or stay on their porches.
This blog will be commandeered over the coming days by the Reindeer of the Icelandic Antler Club – or RIAC as they are known. There will be 9 posts over the course of 9 days, each focusing on a different member of the club. Each post will be short – no more than 243 words – but hard-hitting nonetheless. This unprecedented hijacking of my blog is part of Blogdramedy’s Blogfestivus Torturama.
While I’m fairly certain that most everyone reading this is already sick to death of the holiday season, please note, the interviews with these seasonal flyers will be no-holds-barred, gritty, perhaps shocking expose’s – not the Bah-bwa Wah-wah powder puff pieces you’re used to seeing on TV.
You may find that your preconceived notions of these characters are shattered. It’s time the facts came out. Be warned, these reindeer will be pulling no punches when it comes to pulling a sleigh. The mittens will be off and the truth will not be sugar-plum-coated.
You’ve been warned. When the reindeer posts are complete, I’ll try to pick up the pieces and move this blog forward. With any luck, no one will order a hit on me for messing with tradition.
(For you English majors out there, at no point will the non-word “reindeers” be used)