Category: Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers – A Banana Fell Out Of The Cage

I finally found some time for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  The picture for this week’s challenge has been provided by J Hardy Carroll.

 When I was a kid I went to a Circus Carnival with my parents. I saw a pair of Siamese Howler Monkeys in a cage behind the Big Top.  Each head controlled one arm.  The left side was Frank and the right side was Sinatra.  

Frank stole Sinatra’s banana so Sinatra howled in Frank’s ear.  Frank gave the banana back to Sinatra but as soon as Sinatra had the banana, Frank howled in his ear.  Then Sinatra slapped Frank and Frank slapped Sinatra and the banana fell out of the cage. 

The inspiration for my post is from Genius Funny Man Tim Conway and his Siamese Elephant skit on the Carol Burnett Show.  If you haven’t seen it, I’ve put the link below.  It’s not great quality which is a shame – the better links were blocked in my country which is another shame.  For the Siamese Elephant go to 2:00 in the video.

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Life Lesson – Friday Fictioneers

Wow!  It’s been a while.  Running a business, running a household and offsprings and just plain running takes up a lot of time.  If I were better at budgeting my time I probably wouldn’t have to run so much but then I wouldn’t be me if everything was orderly and under control.

So, without further ado – because I’m still not caught up – here’s my poor offering to the group.

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“Pick one, Son.”

“I like the blue one, Papa.”

Chuckling.  “I like the way you think, but it’s too big for you.  Last thing you want is to be is intimidated.”

Disappointed.  “The green one?”

“There you go!  That’s the perfect size.  So, you walk up beside it and stop when you are almost past it.  Then lift your leg and let her rip.  Like this.”

Water splashing against the orange column.

“Now you try.  Oh, too far.  Back up.  That’s perfect!  Fire away!”

Tinkling.

“The green one is the perfect size, right?”

Proudly.  “Yes, Papa.  My first man-dog pee!”

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As always, the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields hosts Friday Fictioneers.  The photo prompt for this week has been provided by Sarah Ann Hall.

Many thanks ladies.

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Friday Fictioneers – Weren’t You Listening?

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  I can’t always add to the group but I do when I have the time.  The same goes for reading all the other great offerings – it takes a long time to get through them all.  If I miss you one week I try to catch you the next.  My apologies if I miss you more often.  I’m reading as fast as I can and my other jobs won’t always wait.

This week’s photo prompt has been supplied by Sarah Potter.

 

“I’m home, Babe!  Mom says hello!”

“I’m in the spare room!” He called back

The stairs creaked as she went up.  The hallway was dark but the spare room spilled more light than usual.

What the hell?!

He was caked in white powder; hair, face, clothes, shoes.  Drywall dust, obviously, because the next surprise was a transformed spare room.

The ugly green wallpaper had been replaced with delicate pink walls and white trim; crib, rocking chair, change table.

She caressed her belly and smiled gently.  “But it’s going to be a boy.  Weren’t you listening?”

“Wait! What?!  Ah, shit!!”

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A Baby In Each Arm

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, the photo provided by Danny Bowman.

 

They stood side by side, the older woman’s arm around the younger. 

“Between those two humps, your great, great grandmother buried 2 children – it was cholera.  Three days later she gave birth to twins in the back of the wagon.  They had to stop when the babies came, then they travelled through the night to catch the other wagons.  She walked the whole time, a baby in each arm.”    

“Really?”

“Yes.  You come from a long line of strong women.  A broken heart might hurt like hell but it won’t kill you.” 

“Promise?”

A long, comforting hug.   “I promise.” 

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VICTORY! or not

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again, hosted by the stupendous Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This time we’re using a wonderful prompt photo by Roger Bulltot.

“HA!  I told you this wasn’t the way out!”  Cheryl crowed, twerking enthusiastically in a well-rehearsed if seldom used victory dance. 

Steve rolled his eyes, studying the map.

“YeeHaw!!”  Slapping her ass and shuffling like she was riding a horse.  “Gawd, it’s great to be right once in a while!”

He traced the map with his right index finger, muttering about medieval architecture.

Cheryl was now trotting in circles chanting ‘LOOOOSER’.

Steve went closer to the wall and pulled a vine aside.  “Hey!  Here it is!” 

Cheryl stopped to stare, wilted in disappointment and let her head fall back.  “Fuuuuuuck!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Hotels and Room Service

I missed the last few Friday Fictioneers because The Viking tricked me into marrying him.  Okay….talked….me into marrying him.  So, there was that and then his brother and wife came to visit from Denmark and then a Honeymoon.  All of which kept me from getting too much time with a computer.

But I’m finally back in the swing of things so I have time for FF, hosted by the great and wonderful Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields.  And the photo prompt this week is provided by Jan Wayne Fields.

 

“What was that?”  Cheryl’s legs scissored and kicked inside the sleeping bag.  “There’s something crawling on my leg!!”

Steve rolled his eyes.  “There’s nothing crawling on your leg, Cheryl.  It’s all in your head.”

Scrambling out, sitting heavily on Steve’s stomach (Oooff!), she shook out her bag.  A beetle about an inch long plopped on her pillow.

“I knew it!!  This is why I hate camping!!  There are bugs in EVERYTHING!” 

Steve tossed the beetle outside immediately after Cheryl bolted, taking her pillow and bag to the car.

“So it’s hotels and room service forever?!” He yelled after her.

 

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Troll – Friday Fictioneers

Hello friends!  Welcome to Friday Fictioneers hosted by the incomparable Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  I had 100 words to tell a story about the photo above, taken by CEAyer.

A huge troll lived in a cave by a fjord.  He loved the peace and quiet of the ocean.  One day there was a terrible din across the water.  Humans were building a church.  He hated humans; worse, he hated churches!

He howled…..growled but the church was getting bigger and taller.  Then bells, clanging, clanging, driving him mad.

He awoke one morning to the horrible sound of deafening bells and many humans singing.  He could take no more.  He picked up an immense boulder, hurled it across the fjord and squashed the church. 

Then he went back to bed.

This is a much edited story from Denmark.  A friend took me to see the Troll Stone at a nearby Kirke, complete with a plaque that tells the story. The Viking translated it for me so I could condense it down for this week’s challenge.

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Grab the Bag and Run – Friday Fictioneers

“I’m never working with you again, Mario!  My kid sister could do better!”

“It’s not my fault, Giovanni.  You picked her.”  Sullenly.  

Sigh.  “She was the smallest person in the square and her man was busy with a map.  All you had to do was grab the bag and run.  I had the hard job keeping the man busy!”  

“Sure, she was small but she had a grip like your Mother.  She wouldn’t let go!  And she punched and kicked me, too.” Indignant.

“All that planning for nothing.  Not a single lira!  Well, come on.  Let’s find another mark.”

-word count: 100

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers and for the lovely photo prompt.

To read more 100 word stories by great writers just hit the button below.

At What Cost?

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Photo prompt has been provided by Ted Strutz.

If you would like to read more 100 word stories, click the blue button at the bottom of the page.

 

The rain hammered.  Car after car rolled onto the ferry, watery tracks staining the deck.  

Ted watched, swallowing down nausea.  He looked at the worn gate locking mechanism again.  How many times had he filed the work request?  Twenty?  At least! 

Another report this morning.  “It will fail, sir!  We need to replace it!”

His diligence was not appreciated.  Shareholders wanted profits. 

At the cost of human lives?  Apparently.  “Just do your job!”

He knew it wouldn’t hold. 

The cars kept rolling on board.  Men, women, children, babies.

What of his own family?  No, he couldn’t just walk away.

-word count: 99

Sex On The Beach – Friday Fictioneers

Welcome to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers.  Challenge:  write a 100 word story about the above picture – courtesy of my friend Dale Rogerson.  To read more short stories by awesome writers click the blue button below.

Without further ado, this is my contribution:

“Come on, Cheryl!  I’ve always wanted to do this!  You said you would!”

“That was before I realized the moon would turn my freakishly white body into a lighthouse beacon!  It’s the middle of winter at home, Steve!”

“We’re on vacation.  No one knows us.  We’re just two more people having sex on the beach.  They’ll never remember us.”

“And if we’re arrested?  That’s nice to have on our record.”

“Ok.  Leave your bikini on and if we’re caught we’ll say we were just wrestling.”

“Sure.  Two lighthouses wrestling on the beach.  I’m sure the cops will buy it.”

Word count:  99