Late-breaking news: Our frequent commenter Gram won the copy of Bluffing is Murder that Edith offered in her Inspiration post last week. Congrats, Gram! Have emailed you.
Write an opening line for this picture:
Edith: O.M.G. So that’s where my damn husband was all this time. The man who can sleep anywhere. Harold, wake up already, would ya? Uh-oh. Is that a box of razor blades on the floor?
Jessie: Janet had been concerned for some time about Terry’s fainting spells. She thought about calling the police but then she remembered the incident in Boise and decided this was one mess she’d rather clean up herself.
Julie: Time for a bath, he said. Time for a bath with a toaster, she thought. And so it was done.
Liz: I knew my day was about to start off badly when I saw the lifeless arm hanging out of my bathtub.
Sherry: That’s the last bar of soap he’d ever ask me for.
Barb: Julie–I think you just wrote a great micro-flash story. For me:
“Someone’s been sleeping in my tub,” said the Papa Bear.
“Someone’s been sleeping in MY tub,” said the Mama Bear.
“Someone’s been sleeping in my tub,” said the Baby Bear. “AND HE’S STILL THERE!”
Sherry: Thanks to Bill Carito for indulging our crazy ideas for photos for Opening Lines. I think Jessie almost had a coronary when I turned to Barb and asked her if we had time to get Bill in the tub before a meeting. And in case you missed it you can catch Bill’s hand from Opening Lines last year by clicking here: Opening Lines.
Readers: Add your opening line!
“I never realized his arms were so hairy.”
“So that’s where you went! I knew my snoring was keeping you up!”
Very funny, Kathy!
I didn’t think it posted, so I did it again…an edited version of the same idea.
I like them both!
“So this is where you are! I knew my snoring was an issue, but I never thought it would come to this!”
Having just spent the weekend in a hotel for Bouchercon, I’m really laughing here. Ideas about a dead body at a mystery convention….
“It had been a long day of panels and fans. I was exhausted. The last thing I needed was the arms sticking out of my bathtub. And it was attached to a dead man. His conference name tag was still around his neck, strangling him. And from his name, I knew he was the critic who panned every single one of my mysteries. I was in serious trouble.”
Love this Mark! Mystery conferences can be an inspiration!
Maria Alvarez, cleaning caddy in hand, backed hastily away from the bathroom door. “Sorry sir, sorry, I’ll come back –” Her foot slipped on the tile floor and the caddy crashed to the floor as she regained her balance. “Sorry, sor –”
This time it was the sight of her plastic carry-all and its entire contents resting in the pool of red that stopped her words instead of a man’s arm lolling over the side of the tub.
She heard him scream from the backyard. He’d crawled into a fire ant nest. She stripped off his clothes, turned the hose on him, then herded him into the bathroom. “Shower,” she yelled. “Where’d you put the epi-pen?” Five minutes later, she found it, in his travel shaving kit. But it was too late. Killed by little red ants.
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