Duh Duh-duh DAAAHHH!
Well. I started this blog around two years ago. (Okay, over two years, whatever.) I was very excited about my grand entrance into the blogosphere and the wonderful online community of writers I'd been introduced to by Angela Goff over at Anonymous Legacy. Huge plans swam in my head of my future career as a blogger, and I was in awe of my drive and commitment.
Until, of course, I stopped posting for two years, graduated, and eventually realized that I had neglected this helpless blog in its infancy. So here I am. Ready to pick this feral blog back up and nurse it back to health.
How will I do this? With a steady (and Doctor recommended) diet of Flash Fiction! The diet is all the rage right now, I assure you, and there seems to be some research to back it up.
With that said, it will probably be a bit before this blog is in sufficient health to have full posts introduced back into its diet, so I'll hold off on those until such time as is appropriate. I'll consult my pediatrician, don't worry.
So with much ado about nothing, I present to you (and my hungry blog) my VisDare for this week!
Well, my gran'pa always used to tell me this story. He'd sit down and fish out his chew and stick a fresh pinch in his lip. Never told a story without his chew, always said he kept his stories in there.
The story was something like, "There was a woman in my town, smoked like a barbeque. We always would say to her, "Stop smoking, you're bound to kill yourself!" Course she didn't listen, and one day she puffed on a cigarette so hard she started smoking just like the cigarette!" Then he'd laugh and spit into his cup and order us not to ever smoke.
We grew up and the doctors made him quit chewing. He hated them for it.
Funny thing, that was when his mind started going. Well, I guess it probably started long before, but I can't help thinking that maybe we took his stories away.