Calaveras Concessions

When it came to a challenge, Jim Smiley just had to jump right in! But as his world-famous trained jumping frog lost contest after contest, Smilin’ Jim’s gambling debts slowly accumulated.

Moose and Rocko did everything they could to discourage Jim from entering the next contest. But Jim, ever the optimist, kept believing his fortune was waiting at the end of the next challenge. Gamblin’ Jim reached the point when Moose and Rocko had to violently encourage his perpetual retirement from the frog-jumping game, one night in a dark alley. Several months later, Jim Smiley could walk again.

But Jim did find his fortune in frogs, eventually.

You can enjoy it yourself, he’s now nationally franchised. Highrollin’ Diamond Jim’s Delicious Deep Fat Fried Frog Legs, bring home a finger-lickin’ bucket for your family today.


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Inspired by this week’s Monday’s Finish the Story prompt and (of course) by Twain.


Intrigue River

Three days, two nights. Five hundred dollars per person, explore the wonders and beauty of Pine Creek!

I admit it, my business partner sold me on the idea. I was skeptical—this whole trip sounded much too “expert” for my minor river experience. I’d have plenty of time to learn as we traveled, he said. And the first two days went well, my confidence grew.

While stretching in preparation for the third day on the river, he warned that the extreme rapids were around the next bend.

Now I’m floating face down, and the rocks ahead seem like a problem.

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Inspired by this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

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Surly old curmudgeon interviews

I’ll be honest, most personal questions make my skin crawl. Not sure why, really.

I feel like I’m being probed, uncomfortable with someone digging around in my psyche. At the same time, I’ll happily volunteer all sorts of information about myself (if you’ve been following the blog long enough, the primary problem may be getting me to stop volunteering it). Writers, Narcissists… you know how that is.

I think it’s a holdover from adult-asks-kid interview questions. Any time an adult asks you, “And what do you want to be when you grow up?” you’re nailed down, helpless in the spotlight.

It’s never comfortable in the spotlight. “Uh, well, uh…” Blush, stammer, fidget.

I was born to be a public speaker, you can tell.

Eventually I started using “Nuclear Physicist” as an answer to “what do you want to be”, cause it sounded smart.

Dumb kid.

So anyway, enough digression, back to the topic–“What question do you hate to be asked?”

Essentially, all of them.

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What question do you hate to be asked? Why?

I might not hate, “Want a million bucks?” Someone, ask me that one.