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|Cassie Calhoun (standard:humor, 1707 words)|
|Author: Linda||Added: Mar 15 2002||Views/Reads: 2235/1517||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A parody of all the bad novels we've read … and wondered WHY they were ever published. It's dedicated to those authors who write 'purple prose,' and never bother to check their facts. Enjoy.|
I wrote this as a parody of all the bad novels we've read ... and wondered WHY they were ever published. It's also dedicated to all those authors who use adjectives and adverbs indiscriminately, write 'purple prose,' and never bother to check their facts to see if an invention, phrase or 'pop' word even existed in the context of 'their masterpiece.' Enjoy, and I hope you at least chuckle a bit. Cassie Calhoun Cassie Calhoun knelt in the dusty prairie, gazing pensively into the distance toward the rutted trail nearly hidden by weeds and native prairie grass. Tears pooled in the corners of her flashing pansy-purple eyes. Even in the midst of her distress, the buxom, wasp-waisted blonde was desperately aware of her ruggedly masculine companion, Luke Lejeune. Cassie thought frantically to herself, "My mama told me I shouldn't have done it. Why, oh why, didn't I listen? If I had paid attention to her, I wouldn't be here now. Poor Cassie was in dire financial straits, and Luke was the only thing that kept her from having to sell her voluptuous body just to eat. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically on the horse-whip she clutched in her leather-gloved hands. She tried desperately to visualize the trail meandering along the east Texas border and her buxom bosom heaved with the effort of drawing breath. Again, she silently moaned to herself, "Why didn't I listen when my mama told me I couldn't play golf with a horse-whip? She told me over and over that the handle was too short and I couldn't control where the ball went. Oh, if only I had the money for a set of proper clubs. That's all I ask from this life. Is that too much?" Poor Cassie! Luke stood behind Cassie with entirely different thoughts racing through his head. He knew what Cassie didn't ... the "golf ball" she had just sent sailing into the distance was an uncut diamond worth gazillions! Her uncle, Cassius Calhoun, had found the fabulous gem, and nearly lost his life in the process. He was one of only a handful who braved the wilds surrounding the mysterious Lake Sharkinpool and lived to tell about it. Poor Luke was torn ... "How can I tell Cassie that she used her silly horse-whip golf club to clobber a magnificent diamond?" She thought she was playing with only an old stone she'd found in his saddlebag. Luke had guarded that saddlebag far too long to let that diamond get away now. He cursed Cassie's mama for not giving Cassie the money for a proper golf set. They wouldn't be in this predicament if she had! Earlier, unknown to Cassie and Luke, a stagecoach had been rocketing along the dusty treacherous trail nearby. Suddenly there was a terrible thud! "Good God awmighty," yelled Tommy Terhune as he was thrown from his perch high atop the rickety stage. Stunned, he lay in the dirt while he wondered what had hit him. Groggily he pushed himself up and grabbed his rifle. The air was still ... too still, he thought. Visions of wild, blood spattered Indians crossed his mind. "Lucky I don't have passengers," he thought to himself. He pulled his hat down and waited for something to happen. Slowly he paced around his stage, always keeping his back to the poor shelter the rickety wood provided. If this would be his day to die, he hoped it wouldn't be by an arrow in his back! Suddenly his heel turned as he stepped on a hard, round object. Warily he leaned over and picked it up. Coincidentally, Tommy, too, was one of the small handful of men who had survived shark-infested Lake Sharkinapool, and he was able to recognize a diamond when he saw it. "Egad," he thought. "Who's throwing diamonds at me? This one must be worth at least a hundred gazillion dollars." The day was still silent ... no birds sang, no breeze blew, no crickets chirped, no horses snorted, and no Indians whooped. Tommy was nervous, but he bravely put the diamond under his hat, climbed back into his rickety stagecoach and took off. The diamond was his! Click here to read the rest of this story (113 more lines)
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