Sue Spitulnik

Flash Fiction and personal thoughts



Carrot Cake – Flash Fiction

“Girl, you dare put a piece of carrot cake in front of me that’s got bugs in it?”

“Grams, you know those raisins aren’t bugs.”

“Well they look just like the weevils that got in our flour when I was a girl and I ain’t eatin’ that.

“Grams, you taught me to make that cake, pick the raisins out and try it.”

After a tentative taste Grams old face wrinkles. “This ain’t my recipe it’s got hooch in it.”

“It’s not hooch, it’s Jamaican Rum I soaked the fruit in.”

“I guess them bugs are good and dead then.”

March 16, 2018, prompt from Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch Literary: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about carrot cake. It can be classic or unusual. Why is there cake? How does it feature in the story. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by March 20, 2018, to be included in the compilation (published March 21). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

National Daiquiri Day

When you look up the National Day calendar, a lot of the days have more than one “thing” honored.  Today there is only one.  The daiquiri.  If nothing else, I will learn how to spell daiquiri.

Generally a daiquiri has strawberries, sugar and rum.  A Pina Colada is coconut milk, pineapple, sugar and rum.  I don’t know why it isn’t called a daiquiri.  Probably to make me ask silly questions.

In my early twenties, I lived for a time in Biloxi, Mississippi.  A refreshing strawberry daiquiri on a hot muggy day was a treat.  Blue Hawaiians were also popular.  They had rum, blue curacao, pineapple juice and sugar.  They were my favorite.  Served in a hurricane glass.  During the time I lived there, no hurricanes visited the shoreline.  I was lucky.

I remember the police clearing the beaches some afternoons because of the dangerous heat index.  I had a friend that was pregnant and when we went to the beach she would dig a hole for her growing belly, then lie on her stomach like the rest of us.  She told us the cool sand put the baby to sleep.

I miss those days.  I was young, innocent, not afraid of anything, and thought life would always be rosy.  Now I know how naïve I was, and life has given me way too much experience in unpleasant ways.  (Disenchantment, divorce, death, money problems, etc.)  On the up side, I now have the ammunition to be able to write about life and make it real.

A few years back I read an article that said a woman’s personality could be pegged by what she drank.  A woman who orders a strawberry daiquiri is a high maintenance person who wants her own way.  I haven’t ordered one since.  I wouldn’t want to give people the wrong impression.

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