Saving Time: Part 5 Babysitter

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Read Part 4 here!

Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

“Mr. Acetone!” Blue Tie gasped in surprise as he came through the makeshift doorway at a jog. He was holding a lanky child out like it was an explosive, feet dangling. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I told you he was coming,” Darlene said, agitated.

“So soon,” Blue Tie stammered, as if it were the end of his previous sentence. He pushed the child at me and dusted his hands, like the child was filthy even though it was not. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

I sat the child down in front of me. He was heavier than he looked. The child starred at me in silence. “What?” I asked the kid, then Blue Tie, “What?”

“Who brought their baby to work?” Mr. Acetone yelled and waited for a response, even though the other workers were out of earshot.

“I’m six!” the child yelled back, loud and proud. “Where’s my mommy?”

“That’s Sharron’s son,” Blue Tie said, as if that should answer any and all questions.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Mr. Acetone asked Blue Tie and ignoring the child.

“Only on Tuesdays and Fridays. And sometimes Wednesdays, or Thursdays. But never Monday.” Blue tied managed to shake his head vertically and horizontally within seconds of each other. He looked like a bobble head traveling down a back road on the dash of a suspensionless vehicle.

“Let’s have a word with Sharron, shall we?” Mr. Acetone strode towards the clock factory with Blue Tie scurrying in his wake.

The little boy squinted at me. “Are you one of them?” he asked and pointed a tiny finger at Darlene.

Darlene’s chair squealed in protest as she turned to look at us. “He has toys in the break room,” she said. Her eyes lingered on the child. He grabbed my leg and hid behind me, using me as a shield against her gaze.

I picked him up and adjusted him onto my hip. He was too big to be held like this. “We’ll go find you some toys,” I said. I took him through the back of the bank through a maze of hallways.

“Over there,” he pointed towards a door to my right.

“Do you wanna walk?” I asked. He just shook his head. Of course you don’t.

I could hear talking, including a string of swearing, coming from various rooms as we moved through the hallways. The kid maintained a tight grip around my neck, pulling out some of my hairs.

“They’re scary,” he whispered loudly into my ear. I could feel his spit spraying the side of my face.

“Yeah, I know, they scare the crap out of me, too. It’s like an asylum ran by the patients.”

“That’s a bad word,” he whispered again, but not directly into my ear. “What’s a eyeslam?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. An a-sy-lum. It’s a hospital for…” I searched for the right word.

“Robots?” he whispered again.

I looked puzzled. That was not even close to the word I was looking for.  He pushed himself from my arms as we entered the break room. He ran over to a toy chest in the corner and rummaged around for a moment. Finally he emerged from the toy box with a half-transformed Transformer clutched tightly to his chest. He crossed the room and held it out to me.

He pointed to a strip of plastic painted blue on the toy’s chest, “Robots. In the ah-size-em.”

I could hear footsteps coming down the hallway towards us. He heard them too and clutched the broken toy close to him while burying his face in my armpit.

“I know it’s a lot to think about,” Mr. Acetone was saying, “but you know what they say about promotions.”

Mr. Acetone, Blue Tie, and Sharron entered the break room.

“There’s the little guy!” Blue Tie burst in with what he likely thought was a playful voice. The kid and I both jolted in our seat. “And our little organizer,” Blue Tie exclaimed upon noticing me. He turned to Mr. Acetone. “Bobby is the one I was telling you about.”

An inappropriate rap song sounded from Mr. Acetone’s back pocket before he had a chance to comment. “I have to take this,” he said, looking at the large screen. “I’ll be back later, Sharron, to talk about that promotion.”

The child ran to his mother. She looked nervously at me. “Thank you for watching him.” Her eyes drifted towards Blue Tie, who had thrown the transformer toy into the garbage, rather than the toy chest. She whispered in her son’s ear then asked, “Do you want to say ‘thank you’ to Bobby?”

The boy got down and ran over to me, pulling my neck to his face. I leaned down to give him a hug when he whispered into my ear. His tight-lipped words were difficult to understand, “Don’t let the robots take my mommy.”

Continue Reading!

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Tipsy Scribbles: Coloring Pages

Coloring Pages


This week is Spring break for some schools, or at least it is for a local school here. Since the education system and the work force can’t seem to get on the same page, babysitters are required during times like these. Although my crafting plate is overflowing, which is mostly my fault, I had to bring my artwork with me to babysit. Obviously, I’m not going to bring paint and pastels, because they’re not kid friendly (sometimes they’re not friendly with me either, but oh well). I also wanted to include my niece in the process, so I asked her opinion on some coloring pages.

I used Draw So Cute’s video tutorials on YouTube and created these four coloring pages. Note: these images belong to Draw So Cute, all credit belongs to Wennie. For the less artistically inclined parents or guardians, Draw So Cute’s original, and printable, coloring pages can be found here:


Draw So Cute Beauty Queen - Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Draw So Cute Beauty Queen
Draw So Cute Cheerleader - Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Draw So Cute Cheerleader
Draw So Cute Gymnast - Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Draw So Cute Gymnast
Draw So Cute Zombie Boy - Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Draw So Cute Zombie Boy


“Kids. You gotta love them. I adore children. A little salt, a squeeze of lemon–perfect.”
Jim Butcher, Storm Front


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Kids Writing Prompts: March 2017

Kids Writing Prompts

I feel as if I constantly repeat myself on these intro paragraphs. There’s only so many ways to set up our weekly prompts I suppose. This week’s writing prompts are for the younger audience, or at least the young at heart. Don’t forget to share your stories and artwork with us on Facebook and Twitter!

I wrote two chapters in the fantasy draft yesterday. Yes, the one about Brix and Gregor. My confidence in the project is waning, but I’m about halfway through my projected outline. That evil little voice of doubt is awfully loud lately. Pen to paper, however. I must write through the doubts. The chaos of the first draft can always be stitched together later. As you can imagine, Brix isn’t following the draft outline very well. She has a will all her own.

Kids Writing Prompts-Mar2017-The ginger cat introduced himself to the lost child.
The ginger cat introduced himself to the lost child.
Kids Writing Prompts-Mar2017-After several crashing attempts, the cardboard box began to fly.
After several crashing attempts, the cardboard box began to fly.
Kids Writing Prompts-Mar2017-This time the moon was following him home.
This time the moon was following him home.


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Saving Time: Part 4 Mismanaged

Start from the beginning!

Read Part 3!

Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

The next morning, I arrived in the parking lot seconds before the other employees. We simultaneously swarmed the entrance of Saving Time, like bees to their hive.

Blue Tie snagged my sleeve as I walked though the door. “Not so fast, Missy,” and led me back to the bank side where Darlene was lighting a new cigarette. “You have to finish your work from yesterday.”

“But I did–,” my eyes stared blankly at several new mountains of paperwork. Was she here all night making this mess for me to sort?

Darlene glanced at me with devious eyes before she waved Blue Tie to her computer screen. She pointed a greasy fingertip to the glass, “Can you believe her?”

Blue Tie’s shoulders sagged. “Would you please not start drama today, Darlene?” He nodded to the screen, “Not with Mr. Acetone coming in.” I noticed Darlene roll her eyes as Blue Tie began trotting away.

“Everyone, get this place cleaned up ASAP! Mr. Acetone is on his way!” Blue Tie called out, his voice fading into the back of the building.

“Who’s Mr. Acetone?” I asked Darlene, her attention focused solely  on what looked like someone’s personal Facebook profile. As if in response, a low rumbling, like thunder, came from the street and rattled the piles of empty food containers littering Darlene’s work space.

“Mr. Acetone is here!” she spoke in a sing-song voice, running her fingers through her stringy hair, leaving behind slick streaks.

I looked up from the endless tower of papers to see monstrous wheels creep passed the glass door. It was the largest pickup truck I had ever seen, outside of the monster truck rallies on television. It had an extended cab, extended bed, several sets of lights, and four exhaust pipes.

The driver parked directly in front of the buildings’ entrances, half on the curb, dangerously close to the doors. The door to the bank flew open and in strode —

“Mr. Acetone,” Darlene squeaked.

The man’s flawless blonde comb over grazed the door frame as he stepped in and he removed his aviator sunglasses. His physique was that of a man who had played several seasons of football 30 years ago, but now his age was catching up, whether he liked it or not. He flashed an overly white smile at Darlene and sauntered up to the desk and placed a thick elbow on the counter. “Morning, darlin’. How are we today?”

Darlene beamed. I could taste stomach acid rising up into my mouth.

“We’re great, Mr. Acetone,” Darlene spoke in a professional voice I wasn’t convinced belonged to her. “Here are the numbers from last week, your emails, lunch menus for today, your balanced checkbook,” she leaned over to reach under her desk. For a moment, I thought I heard her chair leg crack. She pulled out a tan garment bag and more papers, “And your dry cleaning, yesterday’s mail, that recipe you asked for, the information on the four wheeler in the paper, and…” She started looking around her desk, lifting up old candy bar wrappers, then pulled an envelope out from between her stomach rolls. “Here it is! The names of the new ladies,” she placed the envelope on the counter beside the pile of other junk.

When the hell did she do all this sh–

“It is a miracle this place ever functioned without you, sweetheart,” Mr. Acetone peeled his arms out of his black leather jacket and handed it to Darlene. “Hold on to that for me, love. I need to introduce myself to the new hires.” He started to open the envelope, “Where’s Boss Lady and that puny fella that always wears the same blue tie?”

Darlene never took her eyes from the man. “I haven’t seen them.”

Lie. I chuckled under my breath, returning to my so called work.

“I remember when you first started here,” Mr. Acetone cooed at Darlene, but was looking over the paper in his hand. “And how long have you been here, love?”

“Oh, um…” Darlene seemed confused by the question.

“Not you,” he snapped at Darlene, still lost in thought.

I looked up to find him starring directly at me, sitting in the floor amongst the heaps of paperwork. “Well, hello there,” his ice blue eyes seemed to burn behind his too bright smile. “And who are you?”

“Bobby,” I answered immediately. The thought of this guy knowing my real name made me uncomfortable. For the first time, I was glad to have a pseudonym.

“Nice to meet you, Bobby.” He winked and flexed what little muscle he still had under the accumulative flab. He extended a meaty hand and waited for me to shake it.

I slowly rose from the floor, mentally listing the things I would rather do.

With one jolting shake, he said, “Jack Acetone. This,” he indicated the entirety of the bank, his gaze lingered way too long on Darlene, “is mine.” He looked at the crumbling hole in the wall and the clock factory beyond. “I suppose that, too, now.” He returned his piercing eyes to me, “Hopefully soon, you’ll become a valuable employee like our dear Darlene.”

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Tipsy Scribbles: Sketches for Fun

Sketches for Fun


As some of you may know, if you read Sunday’s writing prompt post, Tuesday was our two year wedding anniversary. We did not do much as far as writing and arting goes. We mostly spent our time together reading, eating, and playing DiceMasters (a new game Justin decided we needed to throw money at). Our weekend was going great until Sunday warmed up and pollen attacked my defenseless husband. While he lay motionless in a Benadryl coma, I sharpened my sketching pencils.

Lately, I have been striving to improve on my animal and human images. I found a useful tutorial on a basic cat shape on YouTube by Art ala Carte. After several attempts of the basic shapes, I tested my skills with a photo of an Egyptian Mau on Wetcanvas. Yes, I used a red colored pencil, but it is a sketch. Plus, colored pencils do not smear as much as lead.

Egyptian Mau Cat Sketch - Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Egyptian Mau Cat Sketch


I became bored of drawing cats and wanted to draw something more cartoon-ish and cute. And what is cuter than a pudgy hedgehog? Not much! I followed Draw So Cute’s tutorial. This was really fun, although I would not consider it good sketching practice. It would be better to help get the creative juices flowing, or just to mess around in your down time. Keep in mind, this hedgehog design belongs to Draw So Cute, to my knowledge. If you copy anyone’s tutorial or step-by-step drawings, please remember to give them credit.

Blushing Hedgehog with Dandelion - Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Blushing Hedgehog with Dandelion


“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” Dr. Seuss

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Fantasy Writing Prompts: March 2017

Fantasy Writing Prompts

This week will mark two years that I have been married to my best friend. Amazing, talented, beautiful, and eccentric. Les is the artist and editor of Holloway’s Hideaway and, as you could imagine, this site would not be remotely possible without her. Fantasy is an important aspect of our lives. We write, draw, play, and live in vast worlds of fantasy. Naturally, this week’s prompts are full of fantasy potential. These prompts are waiting for your story, so get to creating your own worlds and adventures!

Happy anniversary, sweetheart. Thank you for standing at my side while we make our fantasies a reality. I love you!

Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Their skeletons danced in the moonlight.
Their skeletons danced in the moonlight.
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Faceless eyes peered from darkened corners.
Faceless eyes peered from darkened corners.
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-The heat intensified as she accidently summoned her first fireball.
The heat intensified as she accidently summoned her first fireball.
Fantasy Writing Prompts-Mar2017-The trees whisper a warning of the approaching forces.
The trees whisper a warning of the approaching forces.


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Saving Time: Part 3 Overtime

Start from the beginning!

Read Part 2!


Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE


I had spent my last miserable work hours tediously sorting piles of paperwork, after spending my first hours sorting out rusty clock parts. I was more than relieved to be home opening the bottle of wine that had been chilling in the refrigerator since my birthday. I poured a generous glass and flopped onto the couch. I reached for the tv remote when my phone rang.

The unfamiliar ten digit number flashed while the phone vibrated in a small circle. I contemplated throwing it across the room, and whether or not my phone would survive.


“Hey, uh, Bobby?” It was Darlene. Her words were spaced with heaving breaths every few syllables, as if she had been running. I knew that was not the case. “They need you. To come in. Now. I couldn’t find you. On Facebook. So, I had to. Call you.”

I looked down at my glass of wine. “Am I getting paid?”


“Overtime?” One could be hopeful.

“No,” she said flatly and ended the call.

I placed my glass in the refrigerator and set out, once again, to this hellish place I now called work.

I arrived before everyone else, again, and decided to park at the end of the block. I waited as the cars descended upon the parking lot like flies on fresh dog shit. After taking her parking spot back, the petite girl exited her car, still streaming profanities, and entered the bank without sparing a glance for anyone.

Blue Tie opened the door and leaned out, motioning everyone inside the buildings. “Bobby! You came back!” he beamed with awe as I approached.

Yeah, I can’t believe it either. I grinned, gritting my teeth.

“Come with me,” Blue Tie instructed to those who had shown up, then jogged away towards the back of the clock shop.

Namer was slumped against the wall, seeming to be asleep.

Then it hit me. The putrid, sulfuric odor assaulted me like a physical force. “What is that smell?”

“The Separator is leaking again,” choked Blue Tie. “We need to find the leak.” He went to a corner and grabbed a cardboard box.

“I don’t know anything about machines,” I said, thinking back on all the appliances I had thrown out when they refused to work.

“Oh, it’s easy! Just take this,” Blue Tie held out the box, which was full of half-used rolls of various tapes, “and follow your nose!” He pinch my nose, like a grandfather does to his helpless infant grandchild.

I pulled the collar of my shirt up over my nose as I and several other people approached the gaseous device. I noticed that no two people had the same kind of tape.

As I rounded the corner to the backside of the machine, I could see far more tape than metal. Duct, masking, electrical, and even scotch were all in abundance.

“Could they not call a repair man?” I asked no one in particular.

“Oh, they did,” said a stocky man to my left, sniffing like a hound. “Pro’lly two years ‘go. He whacked at it a few times with a big ‘ole wrench, then stuck a patch on it. Told management he’d order us a part and come back when it came in.”

“They should call him back,” the smell was beginning to make me light headed.

“They did, but the guy went outta business. We’ve been trying to hold out until he can get that part over to us.” The man reached up to slap a strip of tape onto a random patch of metal.

Continue Reading!

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Tipsy Scribbles: Cats and Dogs

Tipsy Scribbles

Cats and Dogs


I would like to give a shout out to Discount Printing in Hanceville for supplying my larger scans. I steered away from trying to do large chalk works due to our smaller at-home scanner. After trying Office Max, thinking it was our only option, and their scanner was down, my husband reminded me of some family ties in the printing world. Now I can go big, scan local, and then go home.

This first chalk was my first attempt at a wolf for a commission, and I was not happy with the results. I made a mistake while measuring the border and instead of an 8 inch by 10 inch, I ended up with a 10 inch by 13 inch. I was not thrilled with myself. So I promised I would make a new artwork, with correct dimensions, at no charge. That would be the second picture. I opted out for a background, focusing on the wolf and giving more detail to the face rather than the body and surroundings. I am still not completely thrilled, but I believe it is a step in the right direction.

The next picture is a reference photo I used from Wet Canvas, and yes, it is one chubby kitty! I just want to play with its little belly rolls! Sorry, let’s get back on track. One thing I found while doing this picture is that after a while, you need to step away. Sometimes I get so immersed in a larger picture I forget to look at the entire image, not focus on small spaces within the image. Another thing I found helpful is taking a photo and looking at the image through “another’s eyes.” This will make me sound horrible, but the only other eyes I trust to be truly honest are the ones found in the lens of a cold metal camera, then back through my own eyes. I have trust issues and that is not relevant to this article.

A Howling Winter 8x10 inch chlk pastels on paper- Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
A Howling Winter
Lone Wolf in Autumn 8x10 inch chalk pastels on paper- Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Lone Wolf in Autumn
Window Watching 8x10 inch chalk pastels on paper- Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Window Watching


“Don’t be afraid of failure. This is the way to succeed.”
LeBron James, Shooting Stars


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Dialogue Writing Prompts: March 2017

Dialogue Writing Prompts

I can’t take credit for the prompts this week. Les wrote all of these down while I was working on the new homepage yesterday. The easiest way to describe a character in a story is to let them do the talking. This week, we have four new dialogue prompts for you to start your very own story.

There isn’t much new to report in progress. I am continuing to add to the first draft of the Brix and Gregor story. Beyond that, we’re coming up with ideas for the new satire series, Saving Time, we are sharing for Flash Fiction Friday. I hope everyone is enjoying.

Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Are you thinking what I'm thinking he asked the group telepathically.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked the group, telepathically.
Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-I don't think of you as a protector. More like a distraction.
“I don’t think of you as a protector. More like a distraction.”
Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-No one tramples my daisies! the ogre growled.
“No one tramples my daisies!” the ogre growled.
Dialogue Writing Prompts-Mar2017-Where is Death when you need her
“Where is Death when you need her?”


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Saving Time: Day 1 Part 2

Read Saving Time: Day 1


Saving Time - A Flash Fiction - READ FREE

Saving Time: Day 1, Part 2


“Oh, no,” said Blue Tie with mock sympathy, standing uncomfortably close, peering over my shoulder.

I had drifted into a trance sometime during the monotonous work, but his gut-wrenching comment woke me. We were nearly done sorting the junk parts, but now stood frozen. I was the only one to speak, “What’s wrong,” do not call him Blue Tie, “sir?”

“You’re supposed to sort them by color, not by design!” His frustration came across rather whiney for a grown man in a semi-suit. “Seriously, it isn’t that hard,” he groaned as he rolled his eyes with his entire upper body, his arms flailing wildly in frustration.

The older woman pointed in my direction, “It was her idea,” with unmistakable accusation and said nothing more.

I fought the urge to throat punch the woman I had only known for 3 hours, while Blue Tie refocused on me, clearly distraught and demanding a response. “But would it not be easier to find what you’re looking for this way?” I asked.

“That’s not the point, “Blue Tie responded sharply. “We have always sorted them by color. Boss is not going to like this. Wasn’t there four of you?”

I realized for the first time that one of the young men was missing. The rest of us shrugged, unknowing of the man’s whereabouts.

“Let’s just say he’s in the restroom,” Blue Tie glanced over his shoulder, then turned back attempting to whisper, “Boss doesn’t like quitters. Be right back!” then turned to run off once again.

“What do we do with the rest of this?” I yelled after him, gesturing to the remaining cogs and gears left unsorted.

“Keep going!” he yelled back, jutting up his thumbs before returning to his jog in the opposite direction.

I turned back to the barrels, debating on “going to the restroom” as well, when I heard a faint psst coming from behind the rusty bins. I leaned forward, peering over the far rim when a young woman popped her head up. I jumped backwards, grabbing hold of the barrel to keep my balance.

The girl silently slid her hand over the rim, a crumpled business card held between her fingers. Her wildly frazzled hair complimented her shifty eyes. “Don’t trust HR,” she hissed nearly inaudible amidst the metallic swishing of the group sifting through the barrels’ contents.

I took the card with a questioning glance, but remained silent, unsure what to say. Thanks?

Human Resources, ha!” She threw her head back with the single laugh. “That,” she pointed a grimy finger at the card, “is who you call if you need a real person to help you.”

I looked down at the card and saw a hand written number, ink running from what looked like a grease stain.

I heard the jogging return of Blue Tie, and when I looked up, the woman was gone. He used his animated arms to separate me from the rest of the group, “Boss said she wants a word with you later,” he said as he ushered me back to the front of the building. “But now they need your help on the bank side. You are coming back tomorrow?”

My first thought was to ask why I wouldn’t, but after what happened with the other young man this morning, I decided to keep my answer simple, “Yes.”

“Great! Come with me.” He led me through the shattered wall and into the bank building. Behind the counter, at the far left, sat a rotund woman miraculously perched atop her shockingly small office chair. Her eyes were locked on her computer screen while her right finger constantly rotated the mouse’s scroll wheel, keeping the screen in constant motion. Leaning towers of paperwork surrounded her work station, accompanied by several white Styrofoam take-out containers and soft drink bottles.

“This is Darlene,” said Blue Tie, and cleared his throat to draw her attention away from the glowing screen. “You’ll be helping her for the rest of the day,” and he turned on a heel to begin jogging to his next destination.

Darlene swiveled in her chair, the chair protested loudly, and she gave me a once over. She smelled like an ashtray cheeseburger. In fact, she had two lit cigarettes dangling from her mouth and at least 4 unlit cigarettes peaking out from under several of her many rolls.

What else is tucked in there? I immediately decided to never ponder that question again.

Darlene returned her face four inches away from her computer screen and wiggled her porky fingers towards the teetering paper stacks. “Sort this crap out.”

As I stepped closer to take one of the parchment skyscrapers, I glanced at her screen and saw several separate windows open, all of which with the Facebook logo at the top.

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