Schooled – Flash Fiction For 11/1/13

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Photo Copyright Douglas M.  MacIlroy

Photo Copyright Douglas M. MacIlroy

Schooled

Samantha listened patiently to Tabitha’s rant.

“Another Halloween and I have nobody to go out and celebrate with. Why is finding someone so hard?”

“What happened to Charlie?”

“He wanted space. I gave it to him.”

“Tony?”

“Ugh. All he wanted was sex.”

“Steve?”

“Too needy.”

“Jason?”

“He hit on my girlfriends.”

“Johnny?”

“Conceited.”

“Gavin?”

“Emotionally unavailable.”

“Derrick?”

“Major nerd.”

“Jack?”

“Gay.”

“Ben?”

“Too much body hair.”

“Scott?”

“Too controlling.”

“Billy?”

“Personal hygiene issues.”

David?

“Immature.”

Samantha shook her head and stared down into the teeming koi pond.

“Don’t worry Tabitha. There are plenty of fish left in the sea.”

Time Signature – Flash Fiction For 10/25/13

This week’s story is a flash sequel to a short story I wrote titled Mozart In The 21st Century, in which Mozart is transported to the present and becomes a rock star. The story was picked up from the Story Star website by a publisher in Portugal and is now included in a reader used by Portuguese high school students learning English. The original story is still available at StoryStar.com.

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Photo Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Time Signature

The old musician had disassembled the keyboard and was staring at it dumbfounded. He looked at me with exasperation. Adjustment to his new century had been difficult.

“I was going to tune it,” he said in archaic German, “but there are no strings.”

My archaic German was limited. I was a time travel guide, not a linguist.

So I called in another subject, one I had swept across the gulf of centuries, a fellow musician who spoke his language, a brilliant mind who’d quickly grasped the wonders of technology and could explain it to the old man.

“Ludwig, meet Wolfgang.”

A Horse Laugh – Flash Fiction for 10/18/13

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Photo Copyright Janet M. Webb

Photo Copyright Janet M. Webb

One dark and stormy day, a beautiful princess named Janet went shopping. She loaded her cart with many wondrous and delicious things, everything the royal family would need to keep them happy. But when she pushed the cart out the door, it was raining buckets. The parking lot was flooded. My family is counting on me,  she thought. I have to get through this deluge. But, strong as she was, Princess Janet couldn’t ford the raging waters. Wet and exhausted, she summoned her very strong horse who carried the supplies home. The moral: Don’t get the cart before the horse.

Hoyt And Ida May Across The Pond – Flash Fiction For 10/11/13

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Photo Copyright Sandra Crook

Photo Copyright Sandra Crook

Hoyt And Ida May Across The Pond

“Where’s everbody?” asked Ida May. “You promised me a show.”

Hoyt hooked a thumb under the galus of his overalls, shrugged and stared up at the Roman amphitheater

“Makes no sense. A big ass playhouse and no pickers.”

“Things is so confounded over here. I miss my good old country music,” Ida whined, tossing her bubble hairdo.

“I could ask that one over there when the show starts.”

“Won’t do no good. She probably don’t even speak no American.”

“Let’s just go back into town and see if they’s any hamburger joints.”

“I told you we shoulda gone to Branson.”

Beat – Flash Fiction For 9/20/13

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Photo Copyright John Nixon

Photo Copyright John Nixon

Beat

The pretty young clerk was reading 50  Shades Of Gray when the old man hobbled up.

“I called about a book.”

Face flushed, pupils big as saucers, she handed him a slim volume.

“How much?”

“$800.”

It was everything she’d said, first edition, signed, dust cover intact.

Standing by the front door, he thought about smoky jazz clubs, wild-eyed young poets, and the endless highway.

A collector would pay big, but he just wanted the book.

The cab arrived on time and he took small fast steps and climbed in.

“I’m in a hurry driver. Let’s get on the road.”

Bud And Pud In New York – Flash Fiction for 9/13/13

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Give me your tired, your poor

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore

Send them, the homeless tempest tossed to me

I lift my lamp beside the golden door
-Inscription at the Statue of Liberty

Photo Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Photo Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Bud And Pud In New York

Wearing a sweaty NRA tee, Bud moved his lips as he read the inscription. Pud picked his nose, waiting for him to finish.

“You know what this says?”

Pud flicked away a big one.

“It actually encourages them to come here and take American jobs.”

Pud scratched his ass.

“We don’t need no more lazy poor people. We got enough wretched refuse already.”

Confused, Pud looked at the shoreline, littered with trash and hypodermic needles.

“We gotta stop telling them they’re gonna be waltzing through a golden door.”

Pud gawked at Lady Liberty.

“Like we even need a French statue.”

The Estate Sale – Flash Fiction For 9/6/13

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Photo Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Estate Sale

“How much for the knick knacks?” a Mexican woman asked.

“Take the whole thing for a hundred,” said the man running the estate sale, snatching a valuable Roseville vase from a little girl who had picked it up.

“How about thirty?”

“I couldn’t let it go for that. My mom spent a lifetime collecting those trinkets. I could do eighty.”

“Forty?”

“Some of those items are highly collectible. She treasured it. Sixty?”

“How about fifty, with the shelves?”

The man turned and yelled down the hall.

“Mom, would you take fifty for your junk?”

“Sell it,” a distant voice creaked.

Smash And Grab – Flash Fiction For 8/30/13

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Photo Copyright Dawn M. Miller

Photo Copyright Dawn M. Miller

Smash and Grab

“In all my days, Butch, I’ve never seen a jewelery counter left unattended.”
“This’ll be the easiest smash and grab ever, Skip.”
We’d cased the place. The take in precious metal and gems was in the tens of thousands.
We hung out in the Thunder Grill until the clerk went to lunch. As soon as he was out the door, we ran over, pulled out our hammers and started breaking glass. We rapidly bagged up the loot and made our escape into the parking lot.
We waited nervously out front, hoping the bus to the senior apartments wouldn’t be late.

Downer Abbey – Flash Fiction For 8/23/13

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Photo Copyright Claire Fuller

Photo Copyright Claire Fuller

Three sisters are gathered in the great hall.

Lady Mary:  Can you believe you have to have a penis to inherit this drafty old barn?

Lady Edith: Grow bollocks or commit incest with a cousin. Hobson’s bloody choice.

Lady Sybil:  Don’t forget birth order. Both of you are ahead of me.

Lady Mary:  It’s all knackered. Why should a wormy piece of flesh mean so much?

Lady Edith:  Nothing is more disgusting and smelly. Blimey.

Lady Sybil:  You’ve seen one?

Lady Edith:  No, but mother says father’s . . .

Lady Mary:  Oh, Edith, she’s only seen it three times.

Attack Of The Killer Trees – Flash Fiction For 8/16/13

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Photo copyright Roger Bultot

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

It was late summer when the tree rebellion began, their huge trunks pitched onto cars, houses and joggers.

“It appears our leafy friends have finally had enough of clear cutting, burning firewood, using them for everything from our houses to picking our teeth,” a spokesman for the Nature Conservancy raved.

“Trees are living beings. We shouldn’t be exploiting them.”

Humans reacted with anger, going on rampages with chain saws. The remaining trees were unable to escape their herbicidal frenzy. When the last chain saw was shut down, the country was bare as Easter Island.

Then the kudzu war began.