“Love you, Babe,” he texted. He shoved his phone in his jacket and got out of his car. A car driving way too fast roared up behind him. He was afraid it would hit the older woman and the little girl ahead of him. He saw an arm holding a pistol extend from the window. He yelled, “Gun, get down,” at the woman and leaped for the arm. He grabbed hold as all his weight dropped to the ground. He heard bones break and the gun fell beside him. The car roared away and he struggled to see the license plate.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “babe.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “Babe”

  1. She thought it was flattering when they nicknamed her “Babe” in her teens. What did she think? She used to strut around the neighborhood in short shorts and had long, long legs. That was in the late fifties before young teens ran around wearing practically nothing. At that time, short shorts were too short, if ya know what I mean. The older neighborhood housewives wearing their cotton print housedresses (as they were known then) would give her mean jealous looks. the husbands of those wives would stare at her with completely opposite looks. They would ogle her and almost drool. Their eyes would bulge out of their sockets. Their tongues would loll. Here was their own little Lolita in the neighborhood. Several years later when she was more adult and out in the business world she learned to hate the name “Babe.” She hated when the men hanging out would stare at her and make her trip over her own high heels walking to the office. In all honesty, she could have probably worn a nun’s habit and those men would still have loved looking at her. She simply had that aura about her. She was all female and beautiful to look at. She didn’t have to flaunt anything and they were around her like bears to honey.

  2. Head nodding to the music in her ears , she pretended to be deep down in studies.

    “Would you like some coffee ?” This polite conversation , when I felt like yanking those infernal white wires from her ears .
    “Yeah , babe .” After a millenium of silence . What was it ? Mouthing the song , or has she actually answered me ?
    “Sugar ?”
    “Yeah , babe .”
    “Yeah, babe .”
    This was getting too much . Was I a mom or a dimwit waiter ?

    A male voice cleared the throat behind us . Both of us were startled . I looked back and smiled in relief. The white earphones came out with great deal of reluctant slowness.

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