Take 4: Shoot the Breeze

It’s that time again, time to make a long story short and blow you away. I have high hopes since history repeats itself: people who like this sort of thing will find it just the sort of thing they like.

I’ll do what it takes to spin another yarn, and try not to spoil the fun. Let’s forge ahead, shall we.

Shoot the Breeze, Take 4I was throwing out the baby with the bath water when I knew I was up to my ears in trouble. His momma was a mad as a hornet’s nest. I was waiting for the dust to settle to wave the white flag. I told her, don’t get your knickers in a twist, he will bounce back. She flew off the handle and I was taken by surprise.

I changed course and tried to say look on the bright side, he’s gone to ground and tip-toeing through the tulips, but try as I might, it seemed I would catch hell if I did, and catch hell if I didn’t. I was hoping her bark was worse than her bite, but she was screaming bloody murder, something about going to hell in a hand basket. Me thinks she doth protest too much.

I reminded her it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Then she reminded me she could whip me with one arm tied behind her back. I thought lightening didn’t strike twice, but she had an ax to grind. I know you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, so I told her she was a beautiful as the day is long and sweet as sugar. But she wasn’t buying it.

When shit hits that fan, I have a way with words so I told her take the peanut butter out of your ears, if you love something set it free. I was skating on thin ice, so I tried, now he’s free as a bird, not stuck between a rock and a hard place, and able to run like the wind til the cows come home. That opened a whole ‘nother can of worms and she was fit to be tied.

I was scraping the bottom of the barrel to come up with excuses, but they were as useful as a lead balloon. It was touch and go. I was fighting a losing battle. She was all bent out of shape, so I threw up my hands, did an about face, and said, you can take this job and shove it and went storming off in a huff. She gave me the evil eye and said, you’ll never work in this town again. Baby came back like a bad penny and now he’s hanging on his mother’s apron strings.

I tried to pull the wool over her eyes and speak with a forked tongue using empty flattery, but I was barking up the wrong tree. With my bags all packed and ready to go, I got on my high horse and rode off into the sunset. All in a days work.

So has this run its course, or should I give it another go? What’s your favorite cliché?

Previous Cliché Stories:

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24 thoughts on “Take 4: Shoot the Breeze

    • I struggled with this one. That’s why I asked. I was worried it was as flat as long poured champagne. As far as how many are left…there are many.

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    • I’m thinking about a hearing things/seeing things one for next week so when pigs fly would fit with that. We’ll see if I can pull it off. This one went a different direction than I had envisioned once I started putting it together.

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  1. Oh my gosh , thanks for brightening up my evening. And I actually have a flying pig on my fence she is pink with wings. I have to take a picture in daylight and FB that tomorrow for you to see. Have you used when hell freezes over? the slow boat to China , dressed to the nines or don’t get your knickers in a snit or panties in a bunch?

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    • Yes! Send the picture. I’m thinking about a story where that one would fit, so I could use the picture (I’ll credit it you of course).
      I haven’t used hell, china, or dressed, but I did use the knickers one in this one. I’m going to get to the point when I’ll have to start repeating sooner or later.

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  2. You have definitely found your niche in life, Melanie. I’m not sure if you are ready for profanity, but how about f#$k you and the horse you rode in on. {{{Hugs]}} kozo

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  3. Pingback: Take 5: Birds of a Feather | This Is My Corn

  4. Pingback: Take 6: Hold Your Horses | This Is My Corn

  5. Pingback: Take 7: The Case of The Dancer Blaming the Stage | This Is My Corn

  6. Pingback: Take 8: A Pretty Penny | This Is My Corn

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