Bob’s constant missing hitting the nail with the hammer and hitting his finger instead was the final nail in the coffin of his working construction. “I’m afraid you’re not cut out for this sort of job, Bob,” his boss told him, and Bob pointed a bandaged finger at him and replied, “You know, I think you may have hit the nail on the head. I don’t think construction is right for me, after all.”
This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “nail”:
As Maria and Mitchell exchanged vows in front of the altar, their parents watched from the pews and smiled happily as they recalled watching the organic growth of their childhood friendship into love over the years.
This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “organic”:
“No way!” said little Cindy as she and her twin sister Ellie sat up in bed, listening to their mother tell them a bedtime story.
“Glass slippers?” said Ellie. “You’re kidding!”
“Couldn’t the fairy godmother have chosen something better? Who makes shoes to wear out of glass, anyway?”
“They couldn’t have been comfortable.”
“Yeah! Dancing all night in them must’ve hurt her feet!”
“Couldn’t she have asked for some other type of shoe?”
“Yeah. And if they fit perfectly, why did one fall off? And why didn’t it break on the step?”
Their mother sighed and closed the book. “Alright. If you’re going to nitpick the story like that, then it’s time for light’s out.”
“We’re sorry, Mother. Finish the story.”
“If you promise not to interrupt again.”
“We promise,” said Cindy as Ellie nodded.
“Very well, then.”
Their mother opened the book and continued the story. But it wasn’t long before the twins started interrupting again.
“Is it really possible that no one else in the kingdom would have the same size foot as her?” asked Cindy.
Their mother closed the book again and stood up as the twin girls groaned. “You had your chance. Now it’s time for bed.”
The girls sighed and settled down into bed. “Good night, Mother,” they said meekly.
“Good night, dears,” their mother said, then gave them each a kiss on the cheek. Then she put out the light and left their room.
She entered her bedroom and set the book down on her dresser, then climbed into bed next to her husband.
“How did storytime go, Ella?” he asked her.
“They insisted on nitpicking almost every detail, especially about the shoe. Their minds seem to be too logical.” She glanced up at the portrait hanging above the dresser, depicting a lovely young lady in a ball gown, holding a pillow with a glass slipper resting on it. “I’m sorry, Grandmother. I don’t think they’ll ever believe in magic.”
Her husband took her hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure they will, one day.”
This story is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “glass”:
“Patience is a virtue,” Jessica kept telling herself as she tried to patiently listen to her friend Becca’s inane ramblings, but when there seemed to be no end to it, her patience ran out and she quickly made up an excuse and beat a hasty retreat from the coffee shop, leaving a startled Becca to get the check.
This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “patience”:
Cinnamon was technically my mother’s dog, but I was like the second mother to her. A lady I used to work for had a miniature poodle named Ginger, and when my mother saw her, she wanted one. When Ginger’s breeder had some more puppies, my mother got one. Amazingly, Cinnamon and Ginger had the exact same markings, only Cinnamon was a little bigger. I suppose that’s not all that surprising since their parents were the same, just from different litters (about 2 years apart).