wackywordwhiz

On Christmas Eve, waddling through the snow, Little Benedict was on his way to the video-game store. The latest God Of War edition was finally here. The wait was long, but running all those errands for his dad would finally pay off. “Here you go Ben! 50 Dollars as promised! Now don’t you bother me again before Easter!”, his Dad had said, waving his forefinger. He was about two blocks away from the store when a muffled whine stopped him in his tracks! The puppy had been in an accident. It had a broken limb and tried, in vain, to get around by limping. He rushed to the Vet carrying the little thing in his arms. “Please help him.” After careful examination, the doctor announced,” He needs a cast and some pain relievers. The procedure costs $300.” “Oh!” Benedict seemed shocked. “Is he yours?” “I found him.” “Someone has to pay the bills,” the doctor explained. Benedict took out his game money and considered it. He had to pester his Dad for months. “Here you go. Now, don’t bother me until n...

I pulled myself out of the bed with great difficulty. My head hurt like hell. What was I thinking — drinking all that wine last night! Thankfully, there are still a couple of hours left for the wedding. Mike and I have known each other forever. If it weren’t for him, I would never pull my act together. He stood by me during the thickest of times. I remember, in detail, the evening he proposed to me. -​—- “Let’s get married, Peggy!” I choked on the whiskey I was sipping. “You must be out of your mind. You’ll end up with an alcoholic.” “I don’t mind. That’s settled then. Finish your drink,” he giggled. And that’s all it took. I put up a mock protest and quickly gave in. In my heart, I was grateful that he was calling the shots. He knew me better than I ever could. -​—- I left Mike a text — Up and about. Gotta rush. Pick me up at 12. In the shower, I kept thinking ahead. In just a couple of hours, I’d be Mrs. Mike Anderson! We decided that a civil union was the way to go — Just me, Mike, ...

The old woman lived in a house made from clay. I never really had the opportunity to admire the interiors of the house as I was always limited to the verandah — the Indian equivalent of porch. The verandah was where Avva — the universal title of endearment for grandmothers in South India — conducted her business. It was a simple business. Avva sold Idlis and Dosas on most mornings. I remember her doing that ever since I have been a little child. Idlis and dosas — scrumptious fermented rice preparations — that always left you craving for more. Despite being a grown man, my childhood love affair with these simple delicacies never quite passed. So that morning when I woke, I forbid my mother from entering the kitchen and, on my modest scooter, drove to Avva’s humble hotel. “Idlis for 50 rupees Avva!” I announced as I arrived, still struggling to park my heavy scooter. Avva smiled in response. She was always happy to see a customer. The transaction barely felt like business. The Idlis were...