Pete’s Might Purty Privies
A Just For SH*#$ and Giggles Short Story #1
Pete McNutt, a privy salesman, needs customers for his new business. Spring has arrived and it’s prime time Privy Season. After much consideration, he refines his sales pitch, takes courage in hand, and heads to the monthly meeting of the Women’s Library Association.
~Top 100 Laugh Out Loud books on Goodreads~
“This could be a scene right out of Garrison Keillor’s Lake Woebegon radio show, especially with the addition of different voices for characters and sound effects. It’s that funny.” ~~ Karla, Goodreads Review
“Expertly written and hysterical. You can’t go wrong with this one!” ~~ Renea Mason, author of the paranormal erotica Symphony and Light series.
“Let us begin with our first order of business,” Mrs. McGillicutty carefully placed the bell on the podium and raised her chin, a smug smile upon her face. “We will soon have a second shelf of books adorning our library, donated by the Women’s Club of Kalamazoo.”
After a moment, she held up a hand to stop the applause. “While corresponding with the association’s president, I learned that one of their top priorities this year is the cleanliness and sanitation of their town. In fact, they have petitioned the mayor to remove all unsealed privies from within their city limits. These privies, I might remind you, have pits open to the elements.”
The whispers soon turned into a roomful of excited voices. The unsightly, odorous outhouses that the women had endured for centuries were crosses they bore in resigned silence.
“A new privy?”
“Imagine what that would be like?”
“Well, I hope that means a deeper hole.”
“I swear my Frank waits longer every year to dig a new pit.” Mrs. Adipose, a rather large woman, put her hand to her mouth and lowered her voice. “Sometimes after a long winter, I try not to sit down too heavily for I fear the contents may meet my backside.”
“Is that why he’s here?”
Pete’s face turned redder than a rooster’s comb when Mrs. Higgins pointed straight at him.
One by one, the women turned to stare at the lone man in the room. He sat in a corner of the small town hall that doubled as the town library and pulled at his stiff white collar fighting for air. Even with the light spring breeze blowing through the open windows, the crowded room felt muggy and uncomfortable. The two dozen or so women in front of him suddenly seemed much more intimidating than they had at church last Sunday.
His presentation boards were turned toward the wall to avoid any commotion. Females had a delicate constitution and easily discomfited. He had hesitated to accept Mrs. McGillicutty’s invitation, but his partner insisted it was a golden opportunity.
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To Cast A Cliche
A Just For SH*#$ and Giggles Short Story #2
The evil Queen Lucinda exacts revenge on a royal poet by casting a spell of never-ending clichés upon the kingdom. Will the clever King Richard thwart his stepmother’s magic and save the good people of Maxim? Test your literary knowledge and enjoy an entertaining spoof on fairytales.
~For a list of all cliches used in this story, leave a comment with your email address.~
“Funny and satisfying!” ~~ Elisabeth Hamill, author of Song Magick series
“Aubrey Wynne has created a magical world in which the cliches we have grown to love come to life. Not only is it well written but a ton of fun.” ~~ Kishan Paul, author of Blind Love and Second Wife
“A fractured fairy tale with humor and tongue in cheek…to use a cliché.” ~~ Nancy Pennick, author of Waiting For Dusk and 29 series
William cursed himself for his folly. He should have listened to his wife and softened his portrayal of the Queen Mother. The royal poet avoided looking into her cold, black eyes as he struggled to find a way out of his predicament. “Your Highness, you misunderstood. It was all in jest -”
“You portrayed me as the wicked witch of a fairy tale.” She jumped from her throne, fists clenched, red splotches spreading across her face and neck. With one agitated wave, the guards removed the poet from her court. “Let him sit in the dungeon and write for the rats.”
Lucinda breathed deeply to calm her seething temper and lowered herself back onto the velvet cushion. She smoothed her satin skirts and patted the stray ebony strands that had fallen from her perfectly coiffed hair. The poet’s desperate pleas echoed through the stone corridor as she turned her thoughts to more pressing matters.
Her stepson Richard, the newly crowned King, would be home any day from courting some pale, weak princess. Lucinda must get even with that imbecile author before his return.
The Queen snapped her fingers and a servant filled her goblet. Sipping on the sweet mead, she held the heavy, bronze cup between her palms and searched the golden liquid for an answer. Her cunning mind whirled with malicious inspiration. A malevolent smile slowly spread across her face.
“Ah, yes. It’s perfect.” She let out a delighted cackle then clapped her hands, calling for ink and paper. “I’ll beat that pathetic poet at his own game.”