Plonk [words on wednesdays]

It appears that the amount I write in five minutes is far less than what anyone else here does! That said, I’m content with what I created. I’m a beginner after all. :)

“I plonked myself down on the bed and sighed. It’d been a
long trip. Had I spotted a bottle of some sort of plonk near the back of the
refrigerator? Maybe I could use a sip or two. Even on a good day driving exhausts me, but that evening, the freeway had been full of plonks weaving in and out of traffic in the most nerve-wracking way. And I still had some reading to do – correction, quite a bit of reading to do. After crossing the room to pick up my laptop, I dropped it before me on the red coverlet with a “plonk” that would have made my tech-savvy brother cringe. He hates it when I’m careless with electronics. But I was tired and at that moment, I couldn’t care less about the gadget – they go obsolete so fast you don’t have time to wear them out, anyway.”

The fuzzy guitar of old school blues rock warbled through the ship’s intercom, accompanied by a light drum shuffle. It brought a rocking to Jimmy’s hips as he saddled up to the pinball machine, plonking a quarter into the slot. He let the rhythm tell him when to launch the ball, when to flip the paddles, and the game became his masterpiece.

Carried away from his body, like his ship from Earth, he forgot the world outside of the pinball machine. Forgot her. Forgot them. Forgot himself and all that deep sorrow that puddled in his guts day in and day out. He swayed to the gently introduced kick-drum, putting his hips into every press of the button. His knees were rubber, his neck a cobra charmed by the music.

He let the singer’s blues devour his own weepy trembling. When he missed the first ball, the machine lit up, “6,000,000 points! Keep it up!” but his sophomore attempt was less impressive. “6,213,089! Doing great!” Jimmy took a deep breath and prepared himself for his third and final round, but he didn’t even break seven million.

“God dammit!” he shouted and kicked the machine to little affect. He plonked onto the floor and began to weep. This trip was going to be the death of him. The cold, lonely, death of him.

I’m not sure if this is how you post, but I’ll give it a go. :)

And then they came, conquered and plonked down in our living room like footballers in the locker room at half time. I peered around the corner. At least the five relatives were contained to one place. I plastered on a smile and entered. Hugs
and kisses were followed by, “Where do I put my stuff?” After directives, kids pounding feet echoed as they flew upstairs.

“Where do you want us to plonk our gear?” Uncle Tio
said.

“Just leave it. I’ll get Ted to put it in your room.” I swung my eyes to the star at the top of the Christmas tree and exhaled.

Quiet. I tip toed up stairs and listened at the first door—games. The next door—games.

I slithered downstairs and found Uncle Tio on his Ipad, drinking from a bottle of red plonk . Aunt Lillie’s sobs could be heard from the kitchen. I rushed in as she plonked a box of Kleenex on the table.

Ted threw open the door with a grin which would make Santa
envious.

“Where’s everybody?

Anger swelled in my throat. “Plonking.”

My Practice: Please give feedback.

I
wear this gown of brown and I foster a pink ribbon in my hair.

A feast to remember is before me, how can
I refuse I thought.

Some
times common sense alludes me I plonked myself down on the bed wondering looking at the cracks in the
ceiling, I began to daydream. My legs felt almost numb when my mother began to
call me down stairs to part take
in this divine meal, but in her eyes,
that sustenance was her blood sweat and tears that she laboriously
poured over a hot stove to satisfy our
appetites. Then there to my surprise he was not there. I dropped my eyes
in disappointment and as mother caught my gesture she plonked the cream corn on
the table. Then I thought how could something so sweet and delicious become a
object of violent attention. I felt my emotions and snapped out of
it. I knew that mother wanted to know what was wrong but I abandoned such selfish thoughts and enjoyed
this loving meal with her.

“ I
am not well today” The thoughts
of over took me .

I
didn’t mean to but I plonked my fork on the table that grabbed the attention of my bother that
notices not a plank that may lay upon his head.

Where
was father?

My Practice:

Lacy fingered the delicate silk before plonking the scarf
on her head. She walked down the stairs
and asked the butler if he would have her car brought around. “Leaving us so soon, madam?” “No” she replied, “Just going to take a
little trip into town”. As if it was any
of his business, she thought to herself.
She prowled in her purse for the car keys, and then peeked through the
door to see if her car had been brought around yet.

It was early morning and only the servants were up and
about. The sun was rising and a light
breeze was blowing. Lacy reached up to check
that the scarf was secure before she plonked herself in the driver’s seat. As she drove down the drive, she looked in
her rearview mirror to gaze at the mansion one more time.

A couple of hours later Molly appeared and plonked down
in a chair at the table. Her waiter came
in and poured her some tea. “What would
you like for breakfast this morning, Miss Molly” she asked. “Has Lacy already been down for breakfast?”
Molly asked without looking up from her morning paper that had been laid out
neatly for her at the breakfast table. “No
Mam, she came down and asked for her car just as the sun was rising. Said she was taking a little trip into town” the
waiter replied. Molly plonked the
newspaper down on the table and looked up at the waiter. “What!” she exclaimed. The waiter started to explain all over again,
but Molly stopped her with, “No, no. I
understood that very well. I guess the
question should be why?” Her waiter
shrugged her shoulders and said, “Can’t help you there, Miss Molly.”

A few months later, Molly was reading the morning
newspaper, while she was sipping her tea.
She came across an article that read, “Woman Found Strangled with Scarf”. Molly skimmed the article, sat her tea cup
down with a plonk, and said to her waiter, “Well I say! Some plonker done got herself strangled with
a silk scarf.”