Little Lies Fiction

Big Stories in Bits, Bites & Chunks

Welcome

This website offers a variety of snack-sized stories. Tasty little lies — appetizers, that will enhance your larger novel cravings. New stories may pop-up at any time, but generally, they will be posted on a Wednesday, Thursday, or a Friday — Most people are happier when the weekend is in sight, and so are readers;)

This week in the series; ‘Adventures of Catbaby’ we have Episode 8—’Yellow Man’

 

The Adventures Of Catbaby

cbaby_melon

Season 1 • Episode 8 • Yellow Man

Catbaby here; I’m finally leaving an extended stay in Boogerville. My cold is gone, but my nose is in shambles from the 371 times it was wiped, rubbed, scrubbed and assaulted with tissues, baby wipes, paper towels, and suction devices; and that’s not counting my self-inflicted arm and hand wipes. My nose started looking as bad as it felt (see the Great Sphinx of Giza) and that’s not a good look.

A lot has happened since we last talked: A couple of weeks ago I woke up to big bangs, pops, and shrieking whistles. My parents were all excited. There was a big shindig going on at the lake, and they were talking about an Independence Day celebration, a big fireworks display, and something about ‘Pronto Pups’—woo hoo! I wasn’t sure what all that was, but it sounded like fun—and who doesn’t like ‘fast puppies’ (see what I did there:)

When we arrived at the lake, (I took the day off and left my superhero, Catbaby whisker disguise at home) they put me in a stroller and started wheeling me around; I could get used to that—Driving Miss Catbaby—got a nice ring to it. Hollywood; are you reading this?

Off in the distance was a giant, dancing, yellow man, with arms outstretched, towering above the tents. I pointed my finger, and said “Oooooh, oooooh,” and away we went. He was magnificent; a jelly-boned, rippling wind spirit, with air rockets on his feet, and arms that reached for the sky. I’m a huge fan! He’s got some sweet ninja skills, but I don’t see him sneaking up on anybody.

The other highlights included; Tasting watermelon for the first time, two thumbs up; Eating funnel cake with powdered sugar for the first time, three thumbs up; Watching the turtle races for the last time, hmmmm, ok, maybe it’s an acquired taste.

Then there was the ‘cutest baby contest’ that grandpapa and grandmama insisted I enter. The paparazzi was thick. A bevy of cute toddlers stumbled around happily. When it was my turn, a sea of camera phones flashed as I worked the runway. Stopping halfway, I gave the crowd my, over-the-shoulder-shy-smile—an irresistible genetic gift I inherited from my mom. Bingo!—First place, cutest baby, and first place, best personality.

Just when it seemed like it couldn’t get any better, it did. It turns out I avenged my dad’s second place finish from twenty-five years ago as well—So until next time—Viva la Familia!

—Catbaby

PS—I also discovered my fourth superpower: a disarming, and irresistibly captivating personality. ‘Resistance is futile’🙂

Arms

homeless

Shivering in the police officer’s arms, the abandoned child cried.

The orphaned boy grew up bouncing around foster care. At eight, he landed in a pedophile’s lair. It was six years before he had the will and strength to escape the anguish of his abuser’s arms.

Burning through twelve states in eleven years, he stopped running: found a job, a wife, and began to try. When the economy went bust, he lost his job, his home, his cheating wife, and his sanity.

A half-frozen homeless man is shaken awake. Standing up, he felt arms and a blanket wrap around his shoulders.

Shivering in the police officer’s arms, the abandoned man cried.

Fakers

peekaboo2

It’s not like I’m obsessed. I just like watching her. I look at her a lot…but that’s not a crime. It’s not hurting anyone—it’s not like I’m a weirdo; I work; I pay taxes. I buy Girl Scout cookies.

Other than her, I watch people, and honestly, I prefer standing by myself, observing, and listening in on other people’s conversations. They’re so creepy and dishonest. Only saying the things they think the other person wants to hear. They’re fakers.

But I’m sincere and extremely excited as I take a peek. I know, she knows, I’m watching. She flaunts her wet, naked body—she looks straight at me.

If only my goldfish could talk, she’d be perfect.

That’s assuming she’s a female.

Teddy Bear

teddy_bear

The teddy bear, like Switzerland, refused to take sides, it’s shoe-button eyes stared straight ahead with complete neutrality.

“It’s mine!” the boy wailed in vain.

“Noooo…let go! the girl screamed.

The 3-year-old twins were in a heated tug-a-war. The stuffed bear had become the single-minded object of their affection. At three, the little boy didn’t have the natural physical advantage that he would eventually develop. So for now, his sister, with pure tenacity, was kicking the crap out of him and winning the battle for the prize.

The boy gamely hung on to one fuzzy arm, as the girl, pulled him in twisting and flopping like a thirty-pound tuna. In desperation, the boy launched himself forward, sending everyone tumbling across the floor and into the base of the sofa with a thump.

From the kitchen, an ignored voice of authority called out, “Play nice!—You kids stop fighting or you’ll both be in timeout.”

The struggle continued unabated with the toddlers wrestling for control on the floor. Suddenly the boy let out a shriek and started screaming, “Sissy bit me!”
Mom rushed in and stood over the twins. The boy was laying on the floor with tears rolling down his cheeks.

His sister was sitting beside him, tightly clutching the teddy bear and looking up with her big brown eyes starting to water up, and said “I didn’t.”

Picking up her son, she rocked him and kissed the rising red welt on his shoulder trying to make it all better. Mom then narrowed her eyes at the little girl, and scolded, “We don’t bite.”

With a differing opinion, and blood glistening on its fangs, the spider thought ‘But we do.’ and scurried back to its babies under the sofa.

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