writing

Game of Thongs (A Matter of Wear and Tear series)

/ Karina Pinella / 10 Comments

Part 1 of 4

(Warning: Some language and sexual references may be objectionable)

Summer has come. The annual thong pageant has begun. A throng of staunch thong supporters gather before the stage, set against the nautical backdrop of the beach. Friends and families of the contestants call out to their hopeful entrants. Locals and out-of-towners alike sit and stand together with anticipation. For as long as any of the loyal followers can remember, the battle of the thongs is an event that’s been going on for years. Because the competition is open only to permanent residents, the ceremony has a rather incestuous reputation. Nonetheless, everyone ultimately has great fun and the celebratory bash after the show is even more of a blast.

Meanwhile, in the makeshift backstage, made up of rows of connected cabanas, the contenders get ready as they string on their thong, along with other accessories. Every year, the stake gets higher for how original one can be in designing and presenting their strips of decadent material.

“If I look back, I can see your crack.” Theo Silverbliss teases Juan Nieves, as they both don their thongs.

Juan sighs, “If you keep looking, you’ll get lost in the abyss.”

“This place makes people strange,” Sunny Lark says from her own little area, across from them.

Sunny’s sister, Anya, pipes up, “I swear to you wearing a thong is a thousand times harder than designing one.”

Sunny and Anya’s cousin, Tyrone, groans as he walks by them. “A sore is a reminder . . . and each reminder makes me angrier.” By “sore,” he is referring to the unfortunate red scratch marks in his pubic area. “Once you’ve acquired crabs, no one will want to sleep with you.”

“TMI, dear cuz, please.” Anya shakes her head at Tyrone. Sunny smiles at Tyrone and agrees. “That’s shorthand for a little too much information, darling. Come on, let’s go and show them our stuff!”

The three cousins, Juan, and Theo head toward the stage. Passing a portable toilet, they see a friend, Walter, stumble out, gasping and mumbling, “O’dore . . . o’dore . . .” Barely strung on, his thong threatens to flap open, and then he trips, face down.

To be continued . . . 

Total Eclipse

/ Karina Pinella / 15 Comments

Image: Pixabay

Unite all humanity,
See through the inanity
Of division and inequality.

Have no lessons been learned
From past acts of people burned?
Blood and tears seem all that’s been earned.

Classicism,
Racism,
Other types of separatism.

All such negativity
Can only create a proclivity
To increase destructivity.

Clearly, the wrong ways;
Let’s stop the craze,
Time to start a new phase.

Speak respectfully,
Have empathy,
Achieve unity . . . and the darkness will lift.

SMM Event: Write a Limerick

/ Karina Pinella / 7 Comments

Get ye thee to SlasherMonster Magazine, a mean scene of wackiness and streaks of raciness. Relax for a change; shed your worries and share some funnies.

Here’s a sample of my silliness:

Mr. Whyner

That mister
Is such a whyner.

“Why you do dis?”
“Why you do dat?”
“Why you . . .”

Enough already!

With my Weedwacker,
I whack off the head of Mr. Whyner.

Silence is golden,
My glass bong I be holdin’.

For hours I smoke my wacky weed;
I hear a voice – Why am I a bad seed?

Dead Donovan's avatarSlasherMonster Magazine

Some days are serious and call for decorum. Well, that ain’t happening at SMM this weekend, so go right ahead and throw all that classiness out the window—it’s time to get wacky and maybe a tad obnoxious, too! Pour out all the goofiness from your pores…let it soak into the cyber pages of SlasherMonsterMagazine.

Do you have a wacky poem to share? Perhaps a loony limerick you want to rap? Don’t be shy! Come on over to our house, baby, and let it rrrrrrrip.

Whoa! Things are going to get a little wacky—participate in the SMM event and you’ll have a chance to win a wacky magnet. Let’s face it…you’re crazed, amazed and dazed. Is your refrigerator looking a little too normal? Don’t worry! Ryn’s wacky magnets are full of unique character, just like you!

Give a warm welcome to our ghoulish host, Karina Pinella, who also happens to be insane………

View original post 205 more words

War of the Words

/ Karina Pinella / 7 Comments

They jibbered,

They jabbered,

Their words bitter,

Worse than spoiled batter,

Carelessly strewn like leftovers and litter,

Equally bad, both the former and latter.

They push too far their scare and dare,

The situation getting too dire,

Evoking fear

Of who will spark the first fire.

Eggplant Pizza

/ Karina Pinella / 27 Comments


Gluten-free pizza
Use eggplant as pizza crust,
Top with favorites.

 Stack or lay them flat
Either way won’t make you fat,
A mean aubergine.

(The cheese doesn’t look fully melted because I used alternative cheese — coconut-based with pea protein isolate)

Ingredients:

  • Italian or Indian (aka baby) eggplants
  • Shredded cheese
  • Sun-dried tomatoes
  • Green onions
  • Olive oil mixed with garlic powder
  • Fresh basil

Instructions:

  1. Preheat oven at 400 degrees F
  2. Cut the eggplants in round slices
  3. Coat both sides of the slices with olive oil mixed with garlic powder
  4. Place slices on a baking sheet sprayed with olive oil
  5. Place baking sheet in oven with eggplant slices and time for 15 minutes
  6. After 15 minutes, turn slices over and time for another 15 minutes
  7. After second round of 15 minutes, take out baking sheet
  8. Turn slices over again and put on your favorite toppings and put back in oven for 5 minutes

Summer Reunion

/ Karina Pinella / 19 Comments

The Garden Hall Room at the Radish Hotel is brimming with activity. Laughter and excited conversations rise above the music. A classic color-changing jukebox is playing a 1960s song by The Platters, Under the Boardwalk. Atop a long banquet table is a generous spread of various foodstuff. A variety of fruits are gathered together, focused on their own animated chatter among themselves, as the following snippets are overheard:

Bananas: We about peeled when we learned we won for doing the best split.

Grapes: You know some people think we’re just a bunch of winos.

Pineapple: I hope you know that you’re always welcome to visit.

Watermelon: My doctor planted a seed in my mind to make me think it’s all water weight.

 Cherry: So one night my young lover and I agreed to go for it . . . for the very first time.

Peaches: We swear by the brand of that blade, which will cut through any fuzz.

 Oranges: Everyone thinks we’re so irresistible they can’t help but squeeze us.

 Kiwifruit: We prefer not to be called Chinese gooseberry anymore.

Pear: Okay, so I’m not from a shapely lot. So eat me.

Strawberries: We were left out in the fields . . . seems like forever.

Mumble

/ Karina Pinella / 5 Comments

“Ya got a big mouth on ya is yer problem, Eddie. How many people ya ate? Ya gotta pace yerself or we’ll get caught. I gotta do somethin’.” Royal, Eddie’s best friend glares at his shack mate, who is moaning at every chew.

Eyelids half closed, Eddie is too preoccupied savoring the last of his ill-gotten meat. There’s nothing like a good summer barbecued shoulder. Granted, it took him a few hours to wrestle it out of his prey who outweighed him by 65 pounds, but he triumphed, making him especially proud of his latest kill.

“I just looove tourist season,” Eddie mumbles, trying to keep in food from spilling out of his mouth.

With pressed lips, Royal saunters off to get his leather sewing kit. As he approaches his friend from behind, he says, “Sorry, buddy; this is fer yer own good.” Royal takes a swing at the back of Eddie’s head with a big sock filled with heavy rubber balls.

With Eddie stunned, he quickly proceeds to sew his friend’s mouth. As he almost finishes, Eddie’s lids flutter open. Eyes looking panicked, Eddie grunts, “Mmmph . . .”

“Oops, I forgot to ask if ya had any last words,” Royal mumbles, feeling a little guilty as he locks the stitches.