Heat assaulted Helene as she climbed the steps of the train station to the street.  Her hands were covered in sweat from carrying the guitar case and dialing Ramona several times. She’d come to the final digit then shove the phone deep into her frayed left front pocket. The landlord was paid, the kittens were comfortable, but she was in turmoil. Her stomach ached from the distraction of not knowing how Ramona thought about her. She felt like a fool and she was being treated like one, too. Ramona was much older than her. She was a fling to an intelligent, experienced woman like Ramona Fucking Gallery, she thought.

“I can’t believe I’m falling in love with her.”

Helene dug out her phone and texted Ramona.

“I really hope you come tonight. I miss you already.”

She hit send and immediately hated herself.

“She’s going to think I’m out of my damn mind.”

Helene breathed in the thick summer air. Her throat tightened and she felt her backpack, unsuccessfully, for a bottled water. She tossed her wet, sticky brown hair away off of her neck and strode into the Soho Loft. She bounded up the stairs and spoke to no one as she dumped her belongings near the door.

Her bandmates, Sadie and Mara had delivered her electric guitar and amplifier. They attempted hellos but Helene ignored them and grabbed her instrument, plugged it in then shouted to Mara, the drummer.

“Stripes Girl on three!”

Her sweaty fingers barely held her favorite purple pick, dug out of her bra. With an overwhelming force she hit the guitar chords.  The stress of the relationships with Darcy Bridges and Ramona Gallery fought with the heat surrounding her. Helene’s voice sounded like it had been struck by lightning. It was wicked and dangerous.

“Fell in love with a girl, fell in love with a girl, fell in love once and almost completely, she’s in love with the world but sometimes these feelings
can be so misleading…”

This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. You can read the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ There are two prompts inside this story one is “Fool” from Trifecta Writing Challenge, which also require I write mo more than 333 words: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ and For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Supermaren challenged me with “struck by lighting” and I challenged Sir with “tall, dark and handsome”

The White Stripes’ two minutes of guitar awesomeness provides today’s song. Enjoy….

Here’s my 100.

Violet fidgeted after she buckled. He put the car in drive and changed the radio from his rock to her pop.

“So, dad, there’s this mani-pedi kit at the store for, maybe thirty dollars. I was thinking Josie could come over tomorrow night and we do our fingers and toes. Sounds beastly, right?”

He smiled at how she learned from her mother to change her tone when she wanted something.

“Do I get a hug and kiss out of this beastly offer, Vi?”

She rolled her eyes and tapped her toes along the dashboard with the rhythm of the song.

As always, the rules are simple. I give you a song. You give me 100 words inspired by it. We come back next Tuesday with a new tune.

All the way from Vancouver, Canada comes this week’s request from Carrie. Here’s Oh Land’s White Nights.

Head over to  http://camerondgarriepy.com/2012/02/20/cornflake-girl-guest-fiction-from-lance/ You’ll find the first 700 words of my widowed husband and teenage daughter story. I’m yet to settle on a title, but by the end of the week, I will, and I’ll add a header page to this blog so you all can keep up with it easier. Please go see Cam’s site and comment. It makes her happy and drink less.

Stephanie or whatever she’s calling herself these days asked me weeks ago to write something. I kind of sort of forgot about the date until she reminded me. I blogged about, well, why I blog. It’s slightly more interesting than that and there’s a Johnny Marr and the Healers song, The Last Ride, which will entertain you if the writing does not. Go see The Drama Mama http://t.co/WBgSV6X

Jenna over at www.mademorebeautiful.com asked me to write about what was going on in my head at the moment. Apparently she likes horror stories, too. It will run some time this week, but check her out anyway and she’ll tell you when to literally watch out for my piece.

There’s a new sports column going up at http://sprocketink.com/hope-springs-a-turtle-or-something/ with my name attached at 1pm eastern today. It’s about baseball returning. There’s enough snark to go with baseball in that one.

Happy Presidents Day. I think technically we celebrate George Washington and Abraham Lincoln’s birthdays today. They’re such glory hogs. My favorite underrated President was James Monroe. The dude had his own doctrine and it’s lasted 187 years. I wish I had my own doctrine. How about this, “I will write whenever and where you want me too, because I’m part robot and I don’t sleep”.

Today’s song is from The Presidents of the United States of America. Play it loud, and veto something. All Hail The Grunge Rock.

****blogger’s note***

This is my response to the weekly weekend challenge from: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/

Trifextra: Week Four

This weekend we’re interested in your ability to stand on the shoulders of giants. We want you to take a famous story, poem, book, or fable, and retell it in just 33 words. Feel free to change the characters around, twist the plot, interpret it in a new direction, or parody it, but try to leave it still somewhat recognizable. 

Today’s song is from Shinedown. I’ve not their biggest fan but I like this newer song, Sound of Madness. It fits here. Play it loud. 

“Dad! Car’s coming, you might want to, totally, get out of the middle of the street!”

Lost in the memory of his late wife in a Mexican hotel 17 years earlier, he woke from the moment and looked over the road. A green Honda approached at a slow speed. Violet waived her arms like a hyper-active windmill. He grimaced and called.

“Vi, we’re not hitchhiking!”

The car idled next to them, about 15 feet away, and electronically lowered it’s driver’s side window. The driver removed her dark sunglasses. Reddish-blonde hair danced around her pale, pretty face.

“Ya’ll okay? Car trouble, I’m guessing?”

Her accent suggested that she was local. He thought she may know of the closest gas station. He took three steps forward and forced a grin. Violet blurted over his shoulder.

“Oh thank God, you came by! So, yeah, my dad makes me drive this old volkswagon with a broken gas gauge. We ran out of gas like a mile or so down the road.”

He cringed and imagined how much he could ground her when they got home. Silently, he hoped the driver would help them. The woman got out of her car and motioned with her left arm for them to get in. Before he could turn down the gesture, Violet ran by him.

“Thank you so much! Oh, hey, I’m Violet. That’s my dad.”

He shook his head and followed his daughter to the backseat of the woman’s car. Violet saw the look on her father’s face. She placed her left hand on his right shoulder and leaned into him.

“It’ll be okay, dad, I’ll protect you if she’s like, a serial killer or whatever.”

The woman got back in her car and through the clicking noises of seat belts, said.

“Hey, I’m Mallory. There’s a gas station with, like a, little sandwich shop inside of it about a mile before the neighborhood where ya’ll ran out of gas. It’s small so you can easily miss it. The gas is high, but they’ve got great BLTs. They’re thick and really fresh.”

He shook his head and said “thank you”. Violet rolled her eyes. He hoped she was wondering how long he’d stay mad at her.

“Dad, you love BLTs and I’m starving! This is turning into a great day!”

He didn’t respond. His thoughts drifted went back to his wife, in that Mexican Hotel, so many years ago.

****blogger’s note***

This is part of  a new short story I’m working on, and previously alluded to, about a widowed father and his 16 year old daughter. The working title is UltraViolet. This 400 words is based on a prompt from my friends at Write On Edge:

Plump tomatoes, salty bacon, crisp lettuce, soft bread, this week we want you to be inspired by the BLT. Write a piece of either fiction or creative non-fiction based on this photo.

The word limit is 400.

Use your imagination and appetite and come link up here Friday!

Today’s song will shock some of you. I have my guilty pleasures. A few years ago Michelle Branch teamed up with Jessica Harp and formed  a pop-country band, The Wreckers. Harp’s voice is outstanding. She shoudl be a star. They made a good song caleld Leave the Pieces. It fits the story.

One way I think I get more out of my limited breaths is to pay attention to my own needs. My wife and three daughters are amazing. I cannot and will not go through life without them. But, I’ve got to tell you something, they’re as crazy I am. Look, I know I’m whacked. I take pills ya’ll. My women may not be diagnosed or need to hit Walgreen’s every couple of months but they’re goofy, too.

Earlier tonight, my wife and teenage daughter texted me about dinner. We’re on the go on Wednesday nights so we usually eat out or get take out delivered. That’s cool. The deal is, they know I don’t care what we eat. I’m anti- green peppers, coconut, coleslaw and mint with my chocolate, Other than that,I’m easy. One way I think about the future is, before i pass, I hope we can put meals into pills so I can just say “orange”, and chicken marsala with red wine drops into my throat and I can go write or watch a ballgame. My women are different, THEY LOVE FOOD. So texting me about dinner is kind of lame on their part. They just want to look good for asking me. I responded “anything but chinese, I had that the other day.” They text back “we’re ordering chinese”. Do you see where I’m going? WHY ASK ME?

I’m getting better as far as taking care of my mental health. I pick my battles with not only my women but also with work and friends. My skin is a lot thicker than it used to be. My needs are getting simpler, even though I’m weird and complicated. Sometimes I just want want some time to myself and to have people deal with their own problems unless they really need me.

There are as many as 10 females in my life on a daily basis yet, I’m still clueless about them. I’m trying to put more focus on myself and improving my flaws so I can be less horrible for them to deal with.

After a couple of smart aleck remarks and a passive-agressive tweet about the chinese food episode that garnered a handful of laughs, I was ready to get home and devour mongolian beef. The smiles and affection I received from home made my sweat about the small stuff fade.

I think this man’s needs are more understandable than I let on.

Today’s song is one of my favorites from the 00s or the naughts or whatever. It’s The Cribs, Men’s Needs. I love this band.

“I want you to get me high.”

He laughed through mouthing the word “no”.

“We’re in paradise, thousands of miles from home. We’ve told each other our life stories. You’ve done drugs. I haven’t. “

This blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, layed out in a blue bikini on his hotel room balcony, was asking someone she’d known for two days to procure drugs in a foreign country.

“Where in Cancun should I find your poison?”

She sat up. Sun-baked tresses danced on her tanned shoulders.

“There’s a band staying here. The drummer hit on me when I checked in. Trust me, he’s holding.”

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Leeroy approves, here’s my Atlanta rock and roll brothers, The Black Crowes, with Hotel Illness

Helene changed back into jeans and a black t-shirt. She placed her duffel bag next to the guitar case and backpack by the door to Ramona’s brownstone. A feeling of dread rushed over her.

“I wish you’d come tonight, ‘Mona.”

Ramona tightened the muscles around her mouth and pulled her long red hair behind her ears. Helene smiled at the lines in Ramona’s face. She admired the experience they expressed.

“Leney, if I’m there, you’ll be nervous. Your band needs for you to be a rock. I think that’s what happened the last time.”

Helene frowned and bit her bottom lip. Ramona sensed her unhappiness and walked over to her, smiling.

 ”Leney, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll scoop you up from the afterparty and take you to our recording session. That way, I’ll keep you out of trouble from your certain success, tonight.”

She felt patronized but once Ramona’s long fingers ran along Helene’s cheeks, she relented.

“Sounds perfect, “Mona. We can celebrate in the cab.”

Helene awaited Ramona’s flirtatious response but instead felt paper being placed into her left hand. It was check, written for three thousand dollars.

“Leney, this is for the next ten recording sessions. It was all I could get the producer to front. That should help you out of hot water with your landlord. If you don’t have a bank account, you can just sign it over.”

Helene needed to feel safe from the chaos in her life that Ramona’s affection provided. She settled for the money that Ramona paid her to prevent her being homeless.

She forced a smile and leaned into Ramona. A beep sounded from the kitchen. Ramona turned and walked away from Helene’s pursed lips.

“Spinach and mushroom panini! You’re going to be late, Leney. No one likes a band diva. Go!”

Helene suppressed her hurt and summoned strength. She realized what was ahead. Without saying goodbye, she picked up the backpack, duffel bag, and guitar case then swaggered from the apartment.

****blogger’s note****

This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. Your can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This latest installment is based on the one word prompt “SAFE” by my friends at Trifecta Writing Challenge: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/

Today’s song is what I imagined may have blared from Helene’s iPod as she left Ramona’s place. Needing something hard, fast, nihilistic, and mean to get her through. Here’s some perfectly good rock music from Disturbed; Down With The Sickness:

Friday, my 7-year-old daughter’s elementary school hosted a father-daughter dance. I took my two youngest (the teenager is way too cool for such an event) girls. We ate bad lasagna, good brownies, then Party Rocked and Cupid Shuffled for 90 minutes. It was a blast. There’s a reason why my name rhymes with dance. We won first and third grade dance contests. It was a thrill to see 150 or so other dads. I’m usually the only one at my daughter’s deals.

There will be some subtle changes to My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. I’m over six weeks behind schedule finishing my novel. You can find about 30 thousand words of it under the page heading, Crazy Robot Stories. I’m thinking of titling the project Hybrids. I’m aiming for this week to get it to my critique group friends and then try to find a publisher. Self publishing is definitely a possibility. As a result, I’m going to concentrate on the serial fiction posts, Helene Troy, and a new short story about a widowed father and his relationship with his teenage girl. It’s untitled, but you’ll seen three posts about it, so far: It’s Alright It’s Ok, The Middle of the Road, and my latest 100 word song, See A Little Light. I’m taking a break from Indie Ink and concentrating on prompts from Write On Edge http://writeonedge.com/ , Trifecta Challengehttp://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ and Studio Thirty Plus http://www.studiothirtyplus.com/. They seem more likely to fit the serials. 100 word song is a rousing success. It will run Tuesday nights at 7pm. You can expect a couple of personal posts about me living with these 4 women each week with the fiction.

I’ve taken a writing position with Sprocket Ink http://sprocketink.com/. It’s a snarky news site. They do great work and it’s a daily read for me. My sports column will run Tuesdays at 1pm and my politics column will run Fridays at 1pm.

Don’t forget to like the blog on the facebook http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/My-Blog-Can-Beat-Up-Your-Blog/339720439382777 . We’re at 55 likes. I think we can do better. Basically, this place will become a little leaner.

Finally, My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog is a multiple award winner. Saturday morning, Studio Thirty Plus announced that this spot went 3 for 3 in their Boomerang Awards, including male blogger of the year. My friend Abby from AbbyHasIssues  http://abbyhasissues.com/, took the female spot as well as Blog of the year. You need to be reading Abby. She makes the internets a much better place. I’m letting this news go straight to my robot head. I’m renting out an Applebees and holding court next to the draft beer spigots.

This is a lot to take in, and I’m confused and dizzied by it. I’ve got this new deal of wearing my shirts with the sleeves unbuttoned and big sunglasses like this guy:

So today’s song is from U2…here’s Vertigo

The sound of water bathing rattling dishes in the kitchen sink distracted Ramona to Helene’s vibrating cell phone. Helene grabbed it and headed to the bedroom to remove the dress and shoes and pack them until it was time to get ready for her show. Darcy was calling.

“Darse, what is it?”

Helene heard her whimper. She looked around the bedroom for Ramona then walked into the closet to talk to Darcy.

“Darse, this has been coming for a long time. Just do me a favor. When you get to the apartment, stay out of my bathroom. Two kittens are in there. The landlord knows.”

Through more whimpering, Helene heard Darcy utter a muffled, “I miss us Leney.”

Helene felt a hurt across her chest. She held the phone against her forehead and tried think of how she’d reply. She brought the phone back to her ear responded in a way she’d regret.

“I miss us too, but that’s not what this is about. I have to go, Darse. I’m with someone else.”

Helene hung up and dropped the phone to the carpet. She stripped down to her bra and panties and looked for her jeans and t-shirt. Ramona’s long fingers moved over the small of Helene’s back. They were cold from the kitchen sink water.

“Leney, should I be jealous?”

Ramona had heard the phone call, Helene assumed. She straightened her posture. Ramona’s hands moved to her hips. She didn’t turn around. She feared Ramona’s expression.

“I’ve moved on, ‘Mona. I really want us to happen.”

Silence moved throughout the apartment into the small closet. Ramona’s body purred against Helene as she hugged her from behind. She nestled Helene’s bare shoulders with her nose.. Her hands caressed Helene’s pulsating stomach.

“Leney, I realize you don’t have time. I just want you to know I really want us, too.”

Helene dropped the jeans from her left hand and turned to Ramona. She tossed her brown mane, smiled provocatively and answered.

“I’ll make time.”

***blogger’s note****

This is a new episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This is in response to a Valentine’s Day prompt from Trifecta Writing Challenge: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2012/02/trifextra-week-three.html A love story in 333 words, not using 33 cliched words.

Today’s song is perfect for the this scene. Ani DiFranco strips down the message to this – If it isn’t her, it isn’t here. Helene pushes Darcy out of her life and lets Ramona in. Nothing will be the same.