XXX Thanksgiving

I’m going to tell you a short story today about thankfulness, imagination, and the not-so-common cold.

It all started a week ago when I was attacked by the local bug making a home up my nose, down my throat, and burrowing in my chest.  I haven’t had a cold for nine years.  I thought I was immune. 

I tried all the drugs the pharmacy assured me would work.  My uninvited visitors are still creeping around in their slimy glory.

As a writer, it’s best to think out of the box to keep a story lively, interesting, and unusually twisted.  I guess it’s time to make up my own medicine.  I’ve done stranger things.  Along with a recipe for an obnoxious cold, a story came to life. 

The XXX part is that I’m going to tell you where the story came from along with a dose of sexuality because it fits nearly every time when a romance author writes.  It’s rare to know the thoughts of an author as the story unfolds and how she/he came up with the ideas.

Words of the author are in parenthesis…

***Sabrina (name evolved from an adopted Rottweiler.  The former owner suspected that Sabrina was possessed, so she dumped the toddler dog at the Humane Society.  She became mineJ) researched herbs.  It wasn’t her normal passion, but herbs are healthy.  Herbs smell good.  Herbs are in the news.

Sabrina’s cold, flue, or dirty rotten germs (I really had a cold and checked the herbal remedies) persisted longer than two days.  This was ludicrous and she acted rationally.

She came up with a list: Oregano, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, lungwort, and don’t forget the peppermint (I really used all except peppermint and lungwort.  They weren’t handy at the time).  The list could’ve included an entire garden, but Sabrina focused on the top ten before the idea became a burden.  (I have superb intentions all the time.  I don’t always follow through with those that are a chore and don’t have to have attention).

A basket buried at the back of her clothes closet supplied folded cheesecloth (I used paper towel).  Sabrina felt she was on the right track.  Witches used cheesecloth (or is that my imagination?) and wrapped all kinds of potions and remedies that her targets feared.  She was not afraid.

Recipe: A heavy dollop of each herb mentioned (true) on the cheesecloth dampened with hot water.  Tuck the remedy to your chest.  Hint:  It’s helpful to use your bra to keep it in place.

Sabrina breathed deeply, feeling the essence of her created drug seep into her lungs and clear the path for a deep breath.

The snow glowed under the sun and streamed through the four patio doors.  The fire crackled.  The couch invited.  Sabrina noticed a portion of the cushions left for her between two dogs already lounging (true story).

Enter the XXX scene…

Sabrina snuggled on the couch, head cushioned by Satchel’s shoulder and her legs wrapped around Minnie (Actually quite comfortable).  Her eyes drooped closed with The Twelve Men of Christmas carrying on in the background.

The coffee (I really drank a Bloody Mary- virgin style) steamed and the heavily scented (probably from the poultice of herbs nestled in her bra) cup of mushroom barley soup was set in front of her.  Sabrina sat alone at a worn wooden table in the Grasshopper café (great place in Wisconsin). 

She entertained herself with the antics of other patrons.  Two joyous twenty-somethings sat at the bar and batted their eyes and cracked their lips whenever the dark haired bartender visited their spot.

Two tables away a group of four apparently thought everyone else enjoyed their conversation (truly loud enough). 

In walked a serious face, stubble starting in the early day, khaki pants and a windbreaker.  He sat by himself, kept to himself, and waited.

Sabrina kept her head dipped toward her soup as the next man entered and joined Windbreaker.  He, the new man, was heavenly (Yes, he walked right past me).

Six feet of steel.  Dress pants, mock turtleneck, tightly trimmed light brown hair, and the serious look that must be the protocol to join their group.

Six Feet motioned to the bartender and flashed a badge. (I didn’t see the badge, but I heard his statement).  “Federal DEA agent.  We need a private room.”  Oh, how I, I mean Sabrina nearly jumped out of her clothes onto him. 

A real Federal agent in her little town of thirty thousand people!  He was evocative, strong, and powerful just like the characters in romance novels.  They’re truly out there!

To save all the preliminary actions as this is a short story, Sabrina peeled off her clothes and the DEA Agent took her all over the evacuated restaurant as his muscles pulsed and throbbed for her visionary delight and physical enjoyment.

It was a happy dream.  Sabrina blamed it on her herbal poultice. 

Warning:  Poultice not approved by the FDA, but rather concocted by myself.

Enjoy your Thanksgiving and appreciate everyone and –thingJ

Dawn