The Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style…

Hi, and welcome to the 12 days of Christmas fun!  Each day will be in the form of a different movie classic…so, follow the directions, and have fun!

The First Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…. The Christmas Story! 

Don’t shoot your eye out with this one! The word count challenge for the day is 400 words!  

You must include a ‘double dog’ dare

A Red Rider BB Gun


Turkey eating dogs! 


4 thoughts on “The Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style…

  1. “Ye gods! This is hard.”
    I cocked my Red Rider BB gun and stuck the barrel out the window, taking on aim at the turkeys.
    “Hey, Pa, get in here. Bring your gun,” I yelled.
    My father sauntered in from his man cave, sober, which surprised me.
    “What the hell you’s doing now?”
    “Look,” I said, pointing out the window. “Across the street, in front of the Zwissler house.”
    My trusty Red Rider got off another round. I couldn’t see if it hit my target or not.
    “Careful there, little man. You breaks da lamp and you’s mothers will beat both of us.”
    “I’s careful, Pa. Go gets your gun and help me kell some turkey. There’s one over there eating Zwissler’s poodles.”
    I could see my father squint. I figured his eye sight was going, if not gone.
    “Give me a minute.”
    I got off an few more rounds while he was gone, but the damn turkeys didn’t even flinch.
    “Get one?” my father asked when he got back.
    I rose up from behind the protection of the front wall, peering over through the window, relocating my target. I noticed my father knelling next to the couch. I smelled fear.
    “Not sure.”
    “We’s gotta get closer.”
    “I ain’t going out there.”
    “What? You’s chicken?”
    “Hell yes. You know old lady Zwissler. She’s beat us brainless then go to work on us.”
    “I dare you’s.”
    I looked up at my father. He had his gun out the window, taking a shot, gauging distance.
    “I double dog dare you’s,” I told the old man.
    “I ain’t ‘fraid of nuthin.”
    “Oh yeah? What about Ma?”
    “She ain’t nuthin. Ain’t you’s learned that yet?”
    “I double dog dare’s ya, twice.”
    Across the street, a thin, emaciated turkey was pecking at the ground.
    I heard my father say “Let’s charge it.”
    I looked at him in disbelieve. “You’s kidding me? That damn thing will peck our heads off and leave us for Zwissler. Hell’s bells, Dad. You got any idea what the woman will do to us? Even when we’re dead?”
    My father looked at me, fear, dread, resolution on his face. He sighed.
    “Better than living here.”
    I thought about it as I opened the front door. I could see his point. Some things are worse than death. We looked at each other. Father and Son. Determined.
    “Charge!” was our battle cry.

  2. Crawling on my belly I slowly crest the hill with my cowboy hat shielding my eyes. I glance to both sides, the rest of my posse waits for my signal. These cattle rustlers have made their last mistake. Aiming carefully, I take the honor of vanguarding the salvo that soon follows. It’s over in seconds. The fiends lay motionless in the dirt.
    Johnny stands up and waves his rifle in the air. “We got those A-holes!”
    Billy looks at him horrified. “Aaawww! You said a bad word!”
    Johnny runs across the playground and begins claiming his kills. Tin cans, paper plates, and magazine clippings lay defeated. Billy rebuts Johnny’s claim to several kills. Their squabbling quickly escalates into ground wrestling.
    When will they grow up? Next year’s middle school. We’re practically adults, they should start acting like it.
    Something whizzing past my nose pulls me out of my thoughts before Johnny yells, “Hey! I killed this one, right?!”
    Billy groans, “Ohhh MAN! … Johnny! You butt-head! You threw it into old man Raymond’s yard!”
    I follow Billy’s finger to the little blue ball just inside the neighborhood demon’s fence.
    Johnny’s shoulders slump. “I’ll… buy you another”
    Billy gazelle punches him. “My grandma gave me that!”
    “Why don’t you go get it Johnny?” I ask.
    “Why don’t YOU?!”
    “I dare ya…”
    Johnny points dramatically at me. “I double DOG DARE you!”
    Billy whispers, “A double Dog dare… you gotta do it now…”
    It’s true. A double dog dare HAS to be done… it’s man code 101. I set aside my trusty Red Rider BB gun and head for the fence. To them I seem fearless. In reality, I’m so scared I may pee myself. I jump the fence and retrieve the ball. Turning back I notice, to my horror, Raymond’s hellhounds: five little beasties with the charisma of hungry velociraptors. I barrel through the metal gate of their pin. They noisily give chase and, as I race past his door, the devil incarnate steps out and screams, “What’s all this racket?!”
    I springboard off his patio table into the bushes next door. Inside the hedge I can see into Raymond’s dining room. All five mongrels are on the table destroying Christmas dinner. The poor turkey is shredded and thrown everywhere, just as Mr. Raymond returns. His shriek matches how the neighborhood kids feel when he gives their toys to his dogs.

  3. The zombies were all over the place, nowhere was safe! I had to find a vantage point and some way to defend myself before they took over completely! I scrambled through the undergrowth, getting caught in the barbed wire fence separating the concrete jungle of man from the wilderness of the wild. My beloved Winchester was where I had left it, leaning against a tree. I loaded her with the few remaining bullets in my pocket and scanned the area.
    Up ahead were two zombies devouring their prey. I hit the dirt and aimed my Winchester. Every shot had to count. With the stock firmly in my shoulder, I fired my first shot. Bulls eye. One zombie fled, leaving the other confused. I moved the cocking lever and hit the trigger once again. The other zombie screamed and ran away, following the first. Victory was mine!
    A dark, foreboding shadow loomed over me, I knew I was doomed, they had found me! The zombies were attacking me! I spun around and aimed my gun, only for it to be hit out of my hands.
    “What are you doing? You just shot Barney and Rover!” screamed Grandma as the two dogs in question sprinted off, howling in shock. “I gave them some Thanksgiving turkey scraps to finish! Leave them alone!”
    “They’re the zombies, Ma!” I kept low, they might come back for blood and revenge.
    “Just wait until your Old Man gets to hear about this one…!” Grandma stormed off but stopped at the rosebed next to the patio on her way into the house. “What the heck happened here? Did you destroy all my roses?”
    “I got caught in the barbed wire, Ma!” I showed her the tears in my shirt.
    “Barbed wire? Look at your shirt! Ruined! And look at my prize winning roses! That’s it, I’m taking that damn BB gun!” She stomped over and picked up my gun.
    “But Ma! My double dog dare with Clarence?”
    “Forget it! If you wanna see your Red Ryder BB again, you sort those roses out!”
    And so the battle was still on, the zombies were out there, somewhere, loose to roam and attack their prey as they saw fit. I, and I alone could save the world from destruction! I will be back! Barney and Rover ran across the garden, this time heading in my direction with snarling teeth…

  4. Fed Up
    Richard Russell

    Butch and Sundance, the two biggest and baddest hound dogs around, were out perusing the neighborhood. The humans never checked on them between the hours of 5 PM, and 10 PM; they were too preoccupied with dinner and their usual movie.

    Butch and Sundance “owned” this neighborhood. They could terrorize whomever they pleased. They particularly loved to torture the cats. There wasn’t a cat in the area who could stand up to these two.

    As Butch and Sundance rounded the corner of Bolivia blvd, they ran right into fluffy Johnson. Butch chortled, “Sundance, get a load of that. Fluffy Johnson’s got himself a big ol’ Butterball. Gee, Sundance, that turkey looks to be too big for lil’ ol’ Fluffy. I think we ought to give him a hand with that.” With drool dripping from every side of his mouth, Sundance nodded, “Ya, Butch. That’s what we oughta do, ugh huh, That’s what we oughta do.”

    Fluffy looked up with such a fright it made all his fur puff up. Relaxing his hold on the still warm turkey carcass, Fluffy stepped back and arched his back. Hissing as menacingly as he could muster, he snarled, “BACK OFF, you two! This is MINE!” Butch’s eyes narrowed as he lowered his head and stared intently at the little ,lonely, kitty cat …. all by himself. Drool flowed from his lips as his stomach growled. “I think I’ll just take that turkey now, little kitty”

    Fluffy hissed and spit, “I double dog dare you!”.

    Butch and Sundance both lunged at the same time. Butch veered right, and Sundance, left. Fluffy leaped straight up into the air, so high Butch and Sundance knocked heads as they tried to occupy the same space at the same time.

    Fluffy whipped past them and fled high up into the old pine behind them.

    Butch and Sundance regained their composure and clumsily scanned the immediate vicinity for the cat; he had vanished. Their attention returned to the turkey carcass.
    Just then, rustling noises came from all directions, as 200 Red Rider BB guns poked out of the surrounding bushes. In the moonlight, Every rifle barrel was backed by the green reflective stare of every cat these two had ever bullied. “It’s a set-up!” Butch yelled. From high in the pine, Fluffy Johnson shouted the command, “NOW!” Butch and Sundance froze.

    What ensued was nothing short of …
    cold blooded slaughter.

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