He kept running farther away from the pigs, but he was quickly developing a splitting pain in his side. He doubled over, tripping himself in the process and falling flat on his long, pointy face. He self-consciously looked around to ensure no one was able to witness his sorry ass. He was such a failure. As he sat there contemplating his languorousness, he heard an extremely irritating, high-pitched sound coming toward him. Was that…singing? He didn’t have time to sit and decipher it, so he quickly (well, as quickly as he could) darted behind a tree to hide. His olfactory sense perked up as the smell of human flesh wafted through the air and into his nostrils. Mmm, young flesh. Female flesh. His mouth began to water and his golden eyes glazed over as he realized how hungry he was.

The high-pitched sound drifted closer, and the Wolf peeked out from behind the tree. Standing directly in front of him was a little girl of about twelve, dressed in a pretty white laced dress with ruffles on the bottom and a bright red hooded cape. Seriously? Who still wears capes these days besides Superman? Plus, that cape was so bright and so red, this kid was asking for it. Begging, even. The Wolf began to wonder if this may be a trap. Was she poison like that apple the witch had given to that Snowdrift girl? She sure was the same color.

The girl began skipping again in the direction of the witch’s house deep in the woods. Was she crazy? Didn’t she know what had happened to those other two kids that showed up at the witch’s house a few weeks ago? What were their names again? Harry and Gretchen? Something like that. Obviously, this girl either didn’t know about the witch or didn’t care, because she just kept skipping along, that ridiculous red hood flopping up and down behind her, swinging her wicker basket and singing You are My Sunshine. Was this kid for real? She was so cheesy and cliché, like something out of a fairy tale, which made the Wolf want to eat her even more.

The Wolf continued following the young girl all the way to the witch’s house, where she stopped to ring the doorbell. He watched from a nearby bush as she stood there waiting, smiling like an idiot and bobbing her head up and down to the tune of her song. When five minutes had passed by and still no one had answered, the girl knocked on the window, putting her hand up as a shield and peering through, and yelled, “Grandma? Grandma, are you in there?”

GRANDMA!?!?!? The witch was a GRANDMA? Oh, this was too good. This was WAY too good. He couldn’t wait to tell his father about this!

“Grandma! It’s me! I’m here with your lunch!” the girl yelled again, but still no one came to the door. The Wolf continued sniggering as the girl turned around on a heel and started in the direction of Rapunzel’s tower. He heard her mumble to herself, “I guess I’ll visit sister first” as she skipped past him, starting to swing that basket again and humming O, Happy Day this time. Okay, this girl just had to go.

The Wolf watched as she skipped away, and as soon as she was out of sight, he headed toward the witch’s house. He let himself in with his key and immediately began searching for a disguise. This may be his stepmother, but she had hidden this little secret from him and his father for far too long. As he started dressing himself in her nightgown, he thought, “Sorry, evil stepmother, but there are no secrets in this family. Time for me to make my father proud.”

He glanced at himself in the full length mirror, pulling on a bonnet and glasses, flashing a smile, and striking a pose. He practiced his impersonation of his stepmother, which he had mastered over the years and which had made him and his father laugh uncontrollably too many times to count. He still sounded exactly like her. The Wolf chuckled to himself as he crawled into his stepmother’s bed and waited for the red hooded girl to return with lunch.

Right then, the drone at the front of the room gasped mid-sentence about some new policy they were implementing as five Baton Rouge policemen burst through door to the conference room.

“Allen Forman!” one of them yelled, the largest one of course, with the bald head, massive hulking muscles, and scowl on his face. The policeman drew his Baton Rouge Police Department issued handgun and pointed it toward the group sitting at the conference table. Everyone immediately threw both hands in the air as if admitting defeat. Except Allen.

“Fuck!” Allen thought. “Mother fucker! What the fuck?!” as every eye in the room turned to focus on him. The police officer trained his gun on Allen, yelling, “Allen Forman, stand up! You are under arrest!”

Allen’s boss (the drone at the front of the room) shot him a quizzical look as he ignored the officer and just sat there. “Mother fucker!” he said aloud. “How could this have happened?”

He and Izzy had a pact. That fucking little bitch. When he worked his way out of this, he was going to find her, and he was going to calmly strangle her to death. Then, he was going to give her one last goodbye fuck before dumping her on his sister’s doorstep. That would teach her to tattle to her mommy.

Allen was too busy reeling to notice the mammoth policeman manhandling him to put him into cuffs or to hear him saying, “Allen Forman, you are under arrest for unlawful carnal knowledge of a minor. You have the right to remain silent…”

Author’s Note: Believe it or not, this is a true story! One of my family members was actually in this meeting when the cops burst in to arrest one of her coworkers for “unlawful carnal knowledge of a minor” for having an affair with his 16-year-old neice. I’m sure his sister was mortified. I can’t even imagine.

Another Author’s Note: The story of how I came up with the title for this one is interesting, so I thought I’d share. I couldn’t think of a good title, and my husband and I were in the car. I said “I’m really having a hard time with this one…” and my husband shouted, “That’s it! Hard time!” It has many facets of meaning (sexual, jail time, he’s having a hard time paying attention in the meeting, etc.), so I said, “That’s perfect!”

“It’s MINE!” a small voice yelled over the crowd.

“No, it’s MINE!” a bigger voice roared, as a large hand grabbed at the smaller hand’s egg, stole it, and ran off. The sound of crying then filled the air.

“No fighting!” The Church Director yelled, drowned out by the hysterical screams and merriment of the crowd of children.

The six-year-old boy who just had his egg stolen clutched his sky blue basket close to his chest and ran, crying hysterically, but trying to hide it, into the nearby forest. The smell of pine needles, bark, mud, and grass filled his nose as he stepped onto the plush, mushy forest ground. When he looked up, all he could see forever into the never-ending sky was bright green leaves and dark branches looming overhead like arms of demons. It was shady, almost completely dark, as the sun had very little space to peek at him.

As he continued deeper into the woods, his knuckles became whiter and whiter around his basket. He turned to look back, but he could no longer see or hear the church festivities. He plopped down onto the plush ground, tears streaming down his rosy red, plump apple cheeks. His crystal clear blue eyes looked straight ahead, terrified and wishing he would have never left his mommy.

He went to place his basket on the ground next to him so that he could look around to get his bearings, but it was stuck on something. He pulled harder, but it didn’t seem to be working. Finally, he stood up and used all of his 50 pounds to pull as hard as he could, and the basket came loose as he fell backwards onto the ground.

Dangling in front of his face hanging from the bottom of the basket was a dismembered human finger. He looked toward the place where his basket had gotten stuck and was horrified to see the head priest’s body laying motionless on the ground. The young boy let out a blood curdling scream, dropped his basket, and sprinted back in the direction he thought he had come from, forgetting all about the Easter egg madness.

Wonderland is all a flurry with preparations for National Poetry Month this month! We are putting up lovely decorations in blue and white to match the poster, and the Mad Hatter has even made a matching hat! We are very excited about celebrating poetry, and we would love for you to join us! My Cheshire smile is VERY large, from ear to ear!

National Poetry Month was started back in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets to increase visibility for poetry, encourage increased publication and sales of poetry books, and increase philanthropic donations for poets and poetry. Here are a few things you can do to join us to celebrate!

Poem in Your Pocket Day:   Carry a poem in your pocket on April 29. All of us in Wonderland  will have them! We will also be sharing our favorite poems here in Wonderland on that day, which is a Friday.

Poem-A-Day:  Sign up on Poetry.org for a daily dose of new poems! http://www.poets.org/poemADay.php

Spring Book List:  Check out the list of new poetry books coming out this Spring, and buy one! http://www.poets.org/npmbooks.php

Get a Free Poster:  Hurry, before they run out! http://www.poets.org/posterRequest.php

Subscribe to Poets.org:  Subscribe to the RSS feed or the daily newsletter for poets.org. It’s free! http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/22

Donate to the Academy of American Poets:  Send a donation to support poets and poetry. http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/4

Here is also a link to 30 more ways that you can celebrate National Poetry Month with us! http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/94

Here is the official link to Poetry.org’s National Poetry Month page:  http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/41

And finally, in the spirit of National Poetry Month, I would like to share three of my most favorite poems:

• Dreams by Langston Hughes
• The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
• One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

See the poems at http://www.cheshirescribe.com/poems

Happy National Poetry Month Everyone!!

First it was the Kindle, now the iPad. Amazon and Apple. The Queens of Hearts of this Wonderland. Why do they insist on cutting off bookstores’ heads?

I like bookstores. I really don’t want to see them die. Yes, the iPad may be cool, probably one of the coolest devices to ever hit the market; but is it worth the $600 if you’re contributing to the fall of the brick and mortar? Wouldn’t you rather patronize a local bookstore to help keep them afloat? I learned last weekend that bookstores need to make $100 PER HOUR to be able to stay open. That means, if you took the $600 you are about to spend on an iPad and went instead and bought all the books you are going to buy anyway from your local bookstore (and I’m not talking Barnes & Nobles or Borders, although I would still prefer spending money there versus buying an iPad), you would personally be keeping that bookstore open that day. When put into perspective, doesn’t that make a difference? Shouldn’t it?

“Well, why are you insistent upon killing my pocketbook?” you may ask. “Hardcover books are much more expensive than e-books. Why should I pay twice as much just to have a physical book?” My answer to that would be this: isn’t there a feeling that you get when you smell a newly cracked open book? Doesn’t it incite excitement to be able to take in the smell of the ink and the paper, to turn the pages, and to close the book with a bookmark inside and gage how many more pages you have left to read? Do you read with a highlighter and pencil in hand to take notes and mark words or quotes that you like? Can you do any of that with an e-book? How much do you like writers? Do you think that writers are getting any more money or being supported any more with e-books versus hardcover books or even paperbacks? Additionally, e-book devices can be dropped and broken and need to be replaced more frequently, which can get expensive – MUCH more expensive than buying a $30 hardcover book, which you can drop as much as you like without damaging it. And new versions of devices are coming out all the time, which means you will need to upgrade. Are the thousands of dollars that you will spend buying an e-book device, replacing them, and upgrading them worth the extra $10 or $20 onetime cost of just buying a printed book?

I understand that some people out there may be more concerned about being “green.” “Why should you kill the environment?” they say. “E-books are saving the environment. They don’t leave a carbon footprint. They don’t kill trees. How can bookstores be more important than trees? Without trees, we wouldn’t be able to live.” Actually, the idea that e-books are greener than printed books is a myth. Most of the parts of e-book readers aren’t recyclable, they take power to use, there are more materials and batteries used to make them (versus printed books), and they need to be replaced frequently. To me, that offsets any environmental responsibility you should feel toward them.

Plus, I wouldn’t be able to live without bookstores, and neither would the owners of bookstores or book publishers (which are really mainly book distributors, and with e-books, or even just online bookstores like Amazon or Google, there isn’t really a need for them). Bookstores provide a vital service to society. They aren’t JUST bookstores, they are community centers for avid readers and writers to get together and discuss common interests. There is a certain magic in being around hundreds of thousands (or even just hundreds) of books. Bookstores allow the dissemination of amazing writing and the endorsement of amazing writers. As a writer myself, I depend on bookstores, as I’m sure other writers do as well. Without bookstores, where would we meet our readers? Online? Is that as personal as your readers being able to see you in flesh and blood, shake your hand, tell you how much they love you, and get you to sign their books? What would happen to book signings without bookstores?

As the Cheshire Scribe, I am taking a stand here and saying – DOWN WITH E-BOOKS! DOWN WITH THE iPAD! Don’t let our bookstores become a thing of the past like a run-down, dilapidated, gloomy house from an Edgar Allen Poe story. SAVE THE BOOKSTORES!! Are you taking the path of the Cheshire Scribe into the Wonderland of your imagination, or are you following Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum into a robotic, hypnotic e-world? It’s time for you to make choice.

Other Posts on the Subject:

http://www.idealog.com/blog/why-are-you-for-killing-bookstores

http://ireaderreview.com/2010/02/28/do-ebooks-spell-the-end-of-bookstores-and-libraries/

http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2010/02/can-bookstores-and-e-books-co-exist.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/christin-evans/shallow-reporting-or-hidd_b_401383.html

Let me know what you think!

The Day Tigger Found a Home

There once was a puppy who was lonely and sad,

who didn’t have a mom, and didn’t have a dad.

He lived in a shelter with other dogs and cats

but he wasn’t very happy with where he was at.

He dreamed every day about finding a home

with a big backyard where he could bury his bones.

One day, a nice couple came in to take a look.

They saw this cute puppy, and they knew they were hooked.

The puppy made sure to be loving and sweet,

and the nice man and woman even gave him a treat!

They picked him up right out of his cage,

and he knew that he didn’t have to be afraid.

The nice couple brought him back to 3 Bistineau Street

where he had a nice big family to meet!

There were three cats named Rory, Ellie, and Fifi,

and even another dog; his name was Indy!

They were all very nice, and although he was new,

this band of friends were now his best friends too.

The nice man and woman brought him out the back door

where the yard was so big he could bury bones galore!

With love his heart grew bigger and bigger.

The couple gave him a name – he would be Tigger.

Never again would he have to be sad.

He had found a mom, and he had found a dad.

With this new home and new family, too,

all of Tigger’s dreams had now come true.

So never stop dreaming; you’ll always find a way

to make your dreams come true too someday!

The Day Fifi Ran Away

There once was a house at 3 Bistineau Street

that from the outside looked sturdy and neat.

And inside that house lived a loving family -

two humans, three cats, and Tigger and Indy.

While Tigger and Indy were dogs who liked to play,

Fifi the cat daydreamed all day

about what it was like outside of the house.

She could explore, run, and maybe even catch a mouse!

Ellie and Rory, the other two cats,

were perfectly happy just where they were at.

When their humans weren’t home, these pets had so much fun

playing, cuddling, and sleeping in the sun.

But one day, when the humans walked out the front door,

Fifi spotted grass and knew she wanted more.

The humans had not shut the door all the way,

and Fifi thought she could escape and play all day.

The other pets were playing and didn’t notice the crack,

so Fifi slipped right out, thinking she would be right back.

At first, it was wonderful to be outside in the sun,

where she could eat grass, explore, and freely run.

Then, when the clouds started gathering in the sky,

it started to get dark, and Fifi wondered why.

She started to feel tiny drops on her nose.

Drops that felt like water, so she looked up, and she froze.

The rain began pouring right down on Fifi’s head,

so she ran to find shelter, full of fear and dread.

As the rain came down, she noticed too far had she roamed.

For now she was lost and couldn’t find her way home.

How she longed for the warmth and comfort of her house!

She felt very lonely and didn’t want to be doused!

After she waited for what seemed like days,

she heard a loud voice calling out her name.

“Could it be?” she thought. “Could it really be true?”

Yes! They were calling – not one voice, but two!

She got so excited she ran out and meowed.

She made sure they could hear it.

She made sure it was loud.

Then, she saw them coming round the bend -

Her two human owners and her best band of friends!

She looked around and realized she hadn’t gone far.

She was under a bush in her own front yard!

She vowed right then that she’d never again roam.

She had learned her lesson -

There’s no place like home!

Guilty by Association, Part I:   http://www.cheshirescribe.com/2010/01/guilty-by-association-part-i/

Guilty by Association, Part II: http://www.cheshirescribe.com/2010/01/guilty-by-association-part-2/#more-42

Remember, this is a true story!

The girls had rented a room in the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street for an after prom party. Zoé was there with Kenny Roussell. The only reason she had even agreed to this date was because his brother, Keith, one of her best friends, had begged her. He even offered to pay her $20 to take him to prom, but she refused the money. After seeing him, however, she wished she had taken it. Kenny was not attractive. He was about six inches shorter than Zoé, who was five-foot-six, but in his white platform shoes, they were the same height. He had curly fire-engine red hair down to his collar, big, bushy eyebrows to match, and braces. He thought he was super cool in his baby blue tuxedo, white ruffled shirt, and blue bow tie. After they had been there for about an hour, Edith gathered the girls together.

“Teddy wants us ta go see him,” she said.

“We can’t just leave our dates here. They’ll wanna know where we’re goin,’” Breanna answered.

“We’ll just tell ‘em we’re goin’ outside for a few minutes. We won’t be long. We’ll just go tell Teddy hi, have a few drinks, and come right back.”

“Okay, as long as we come right back.” The girls rounded up their dates and told them they were going outside to smoke and walk around.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Kenny. Don’t wait around for me,” Zoé said.

“Can’t I go with you? I don’t like you girls wandering around out there by yourselves,” Kenny replied.

“No, you can’t come. We’ll be back in a few minutes. Now let us go.” Zoé and the other girls left their dates and snuck downstairs. They made their way to Scorpio’s around the corner, where Teddy was waiting for them.

“Oh, girls! How wonderful to see you! Edith has told me you wanted to come back.” Teddy poured them some Ouzo and the party began. The same woman was singing, but she was wearing a green sequined gown this time. Teddy walked up to the Mafioso table where the girls were sitting and said, “Come. I have a place I want you girls to see.”

The girls followed Teddy outside, and he led them down the street to an obscure building that he needed a password to enter. The door opened to another world, and Zoé felt like she was walking right into a movie. There were illegal gambling tables scattered around the room, from blackjack to roulette. Men and women dressed in formal wear milled around, gambling, drinking, and having a great time.

Teddy led the girls straight through the gambling room into a suite of offices in the back. They passed through Teddy’s office and into a conference room. The room was extremely plain, adorned with nothing but a large conference table, some chairs, and a couple of bookshelves.

“You girls have bright futures ahead,” Teddy said as he poured each of the girls another drink. “You want make lots of money, yes? I can help you make lots of money,” Teddy announced.

Zoé did not like what she was hearing. She looked at her watch and realized they had been gone for two hours.

“I think we need ta go,” she said. “Kenny’s probly worried. He’s gonna come lookin’ for us in a few minutes.”

“You do not need go just yet,” Teddy replied. “I want to ask you girls somesing.”

“You don’t understand. Kenny’s a dork. He’ll probly call the police.”

At the word “police,” Teddy jumped. “Okay, you girls may go as long as you promise to come back.” The girls jumped up and practically ran back to the hotel. Kenny was a nervous wreck.

“Where the hell have you been? I was about ta call the police.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re back now,” Zoé replied.

“You girls didn’t get yaselves in trouble, did ya?”

“Does it look like we got in trouble? Just shut up.”

“I think it’s time ta go. I need ta bring ya home.”

Zoé looked at her watch. It was almost two in the morning. “Yeah, okay.” They said their goodbyes and climbed back into Kenny’s mother’s Lincoln town car.

 *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *        

Zoé could not believe her eyes. Could it be? No, it couldn’t be them, could it?

“The FBI broke up a major gambling and prostitution ring earlier today in downtown New Orleans after surveying the ring for about nine months. The ring was led by a man who called himself ‘Teddy’ along with his two associates, ‘Billy’ and ‘Stavros.’” Images of the three men being arrested flashed across the screen. “The men have pleaded ‘not guilty’ to the crime, and have been deported back to their home country of Greece. In other news …”

Zoé’s face drained of all color and warmth. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t move. She just knew that at any moment the FBI would come knocking at her door to question her about what she had seen. She and her friends had to be on the FBI’s tapes. She was just waiting for the FBI to come knocking at her door to take her away, along with four of her friends. This could not be happening.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

This is a true story of events that happened to these girls back in 1979. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Today, the women are 47 years old and still remain friends. The girls were never questioned, nor did any of their parents ever find out what they had done. None of the girls ever saw what they now call “The Greeks” ever again, though they do still meet for dinner once a month and sometimes reminisce about the experience.

The popular downtown New Orleans restaurant Anything Goes was so popular because of its atmosphere. Each table had a theme, and the waiter or waitress dressed according to the theme of the table. There was a cheese table where the waiter was dressed as a mouse, a mafia table where the waiter was a gangster, and even a cave dweller’s hut that covered a private table. The food was below par, especially for New Orleans; they served delicacies such as burgers and fries and spaghetti. The girls sat at the firehouse table, their favorite due to the sexy fireman that waited on it, and ordered burgers and fries.

“Can you believe those guys? I mean, that one guy was like, 100 years old!” Breanna exclaimed as she handed the menu back to the waiter and winked at him.

“I know! Thank God we just left ‘em. They’ll be gone by the time we get outta here,” Lydia said.

The girls then began a different conversation, letting the smells of grilling hamburgers and frying grease penetrate their noses and fill their bodies. They ate a good meal while talking and laughing, and they all had a wonderful time just hanging out and stuffing their faces with burgers the size of bowling balls. They even had a contest to see who could stuff the whole burger in her mouth, chew it, and swallow it the fastest. As always, Lydia won – the reigning burger eating contest queen. No one had been able to dethrone her yet.

The girls finally finished about two hours later, and after they paid, they headed outside to smoke and walk around. When they opened the door to the restaurant, they saw the same three Greek men still standing there.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” Lydia whispered. “They waited dis whole time?”

 “Ah, ‘ello girls. You finis now? How you like your food?” the oldest one asked.

 “It was, uh, good,” Breanna answered.

 “Zat’s wonderful. You girls ready now?”

 “Ready for what?” Zoé asked.

 “To ha’ some fun of course. Oh, how rude I am! You do not know our names. I am Teddy, zis is Billy, and zis is Stavros.” As he pointed to each of the men to introduce them, the girls’ eyes followed. Teddy was a big man of his late thirties with a curly, black afro, large, round, black eyes that penetrated to your soul, a pointy nose, and a mustache. The man to his left, Billy, was the youngest of the group, probably around his early twenties. He was extremely attractive with short, straight, dark hair parted to the side and sharp features. He had a square chin and no facial hair, and his teeth were so white they seemed to glow in the dark. The other man to Teddy’s right, Stavros, was a quiet man with a commanding presence. He was in between the other two in age, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. He had wavy, dark hair down to his collar, large, round, dark eyes, and a pointy nose. He never spoke, but he still somehow commanded your attention.

 “We are from Greece. You ladies ready to ha’ some fun now?” Teddy continued.

 The girls looked at each other, all thinking the same thing – adventure time!

 “Sure, we’ll hang out wit’ ya,” Breanna said. “Where ya wanna go?”

“We go to my bar around za corner. Follow me.” Teddy took off down the street, taking long strides and looking over his shoulder every few feet. He seemed extremely paranoid, which the girls found weird considering how large he was. The group rounded the corner, and Teddy stopped at the corner building. He walked up the five steps to the large double doors even with the corner and held one open for the girls. As Zoé walked up the steps, she looked up at the sign over the door that read “Scorpio’s.” A chill went up her spine as she read the name. This place didn’t sound so nice.

The inside of Scorpio’s consisted of a large, Mafioso table in the center of the room filled with place settings, Sangria, and food, a bandstand on which a large breasted woman in a blue sequined gown and lots of blue and purple eye shadow sang Greek songs, and a small dance floor in front of the bandstand. The place smelled of cigars, sweat, and alcohol.

Teddy led the girls to the large Mafioso table where they all sat and ordered wine and mixed drinks. After a few minutes, Teddy decided to introduce the girls to real Greek culture with some Ouzo. The waiter placed shot glasses in front of each girl and filled them with a thick, minty and licorice tasting liquid.

“Drink up!” Teddy shouted as the girls slammed the shots.

“Opa!” they all screamed, then smashed their glasses on the floor. Zoé was amazed at this foreign culture and their unique traditions and lifestyle. It was so much fun, and these guys had ended up being a lot cooler than she thought. She continued to have a great time with her new friends, and, as the night waned away into the early hours of the morning, the girls became more and more intoxicated. After about three or four hours of Greek parties, music, and Ouzo, the girls decided they had better get home.

“My motha is gonna kill me if I don’t get up for church in the mornin’,” Zoé slurred. “We gotta go.” Zoé stood to leave, along with Lydia, Breanna, and Tonia. Edith was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Edith?” Lydia asked. The girls searched the room and found Edith in the corner with her hand down Teddy’s pants. He had his hand on her rear end, and they were passionately making out in the dark recesses of the bar.

“Edith! Come on, let’s go,” Zoé said, dragging Edith away from her new found love.

“I’ll see ya lata, hun! Call me!” Edith yelled as her friends dragged her to the car.

This is a story written in three parts. The other two parts will be the next two Friday Flash stories. This is also a creative non-fiction piece, meaning it is a true story with my own dramatic flair Every part of this story is true.

16-year-old Zoé Haydel sat on her living room floor, her eyes transfixed to the six o’clock news flashing across the black and white television screen in front of her. Her father sat a few feet away in his mahogany wood rocking chair, dozing off as he always did while watching the news. Her mother was hard at work in the kitchen preparing dinner – tossing salad, baking dinner rolls and a roast, and boiling corn. The succulent smells of tender roast beef and sweet dinner rolls wafted from the kitchen, but Zoé was too mortified to even notice. She could not believe her eyes. Could it be? No, it couldn’t be them, could it? The newscaster’s voice droned on to the next story, but Zoé was still mesmerized by the last one. As she realized the implications of the news story she had just heard, her face drained of all color and warmth. She looked down, and she realized her hands were shaking. She was sweating profusely, and she couldn’t breathe. She was just waiting for the FBI to come knocking at her door to take her away, along with four of her friends. This could not be happening.

Six Months Ago

Zoé Haydel pulled her long sleeves over her hands as she waited outside with her friends to get into Anything Goes, a popular downtown New Orleans restaurant. It was a cool, clear Saturday night in the spring of 1979, and the line to get into the restaurant was about eight miles long. None of their parents had any clue they were there, as the conniving girls had each told their parents they were spending the night at another’s house.

The restaurant was on Iberville Street, about a block off Canal Street and a couple of blocks from Bourbon Street. Zoé could hear a barker on Bourbon calling, “Come one, come all! Ladies, ladies, ladies! Huge titties and no cover charge! Drinks two-for-one!” Jazz music floated from the corner where a bald black man blew into his saxophone, his bright red derby upside down in front of him. He looked expectantly at passersby, tooting louder on his horn and trying to get them to drop just one dime into his hat.

Zoé had always liked the commotion of downtown New Orleans, and she had always wanted to go into some of these forbidden places just to see what went on. However, “huge titties” and “ladies, ladies, ladies” didn’t really interest her enough to wander into one. As she drew her attention back to the conversation at hand, she heard Breanna Schexnayder, one of the girls in her group, say, “Hey, check out those losas over there. They look like they just climbed out the banana boat.” Breanna was a very attractive 16-year-old girl with long, straight, black hair and a vivacious personality. She was very petite and scrawny, but with a substantial bust, which seemed to attract older men. Lydia Leblanc stood next to her, also 16, but strikingly different in appearance with her short, light blonde hair and athletic body. Next was Edith Hebert, the promiscuous one of the group, with a sultry attitude and a voluptuous body for her small, 16-year-old frame. Finally, Tonia Bourgeois stood next to Edith, a shy and very average girl of 16, the typical girl-next-door type who tends to blend into the scenery.

“Where do ya think they from? Mars?” Lydia asked.

“I don’t know, but it looks like they’re comin’ over here,” Zoé said, turning away from the men in the hopes of deterring them from trying to talk to the girls. The men, however, found this cute, and they strutted over.

“You girls waiting for eat, yes?” the oldest one asked in a thick Greek accent. “I make you better food.”

“I’ll bet ya can,” Breanna replied.

“You girls look like you like have fun, yes?”

“Uh, yeah we like ta have fun. Who doesn’t?” Lydia sarcastically replied.

“You want have fun wis us?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Zoé said.

“We like have fun too. You meet us here after dinner?”

“Yeah, sure, dude. You just wait right here as long as it takes, ok?” Edith said as the hostess called her name.

“Edith, party of five.”

“We gotta go eat. See you guys lata,” Edith said, leading the way into the restaurant. The girls left the men standing there, laughing and making fun of them as they took their seats.

My plan (and New Year’s resolution) is to lose 50 pounds and finish the novel I’ve been working on. My biggest challenge: time. I have a very demanding day job that requires 11-12 hours per day, and by the time I get home in the evening, the last thing I feel like doing is cooking and exercise. I’m like everyone else – I want to veg out in front of the TV and fall asleep after eating fast food. I also do a lot of volunteer work – for my sorority, teaching 4th graders about business, for Second Harvest Food Bank, for Le Petit Theatre, and a few others. On top of that, I have five pets and a husband at home (no kids yet), and I have to make at least some time to spend with them. This means that the time constraints (AKA – “real life”) make it harder and harder to really do what I WANT to do – write. I have to start making the time. And I’m ready. I’m ready to take control of my life back, hook myself up, and scale this seemingly unscalable wall.

Baby steps. Everything starts with baby steps. Then soon, you find yourself walking, then jogging, then running! I can’t let life get in the way of my dreams any longer. This year, it’s all about ME! Doing what I love will pull me out of this rut I’ve created for myself and will manifest the life I’ve always wanted – BEST SELLING AUTHOR! This is what I’ve always been good at and what I love to do most, and it’s time for me to take the reins and yell “HI HO SILVER!”

Thanks for coming along this journey with me. It’ll be a wild, entertaining ride! I’ll encounter all sorts of characters and may even get my head chopped off once or twice, but luckily, here in Wonderland, you can just pick up your head and put it right back on your shoulders. In the end, I’ll walk out of the other side of Wonderland and say “Wow, what a trip!”

Until next time…