Last fall I had a hearing test—and guess what? I have significant high-frequency hearing loss. All those years standing next to a drummer playing bass in Rock’n Roll and Blues bands finally paid off. I couldn’t hear an army tank land on a bed of wrinkled sheet metal.
Those of us with severe hearing loss eventually get tired of sayin’—huh? , what? would you mind repeating that?, etc. We grin, nod our head, and try to fill in the blanks based upon the few utterances that we do understand. The bad news is we often indicate “yes” when the correct answer is “no” and make ridiculous statements when we misinterpret phrases such as, “Ford shocks” for “pork chop.” Some say this ability qualifies me to become a foreign diplomat, Supreme Court Justice, or star in a reality show on History Channel. I’m open to all options.
This week’s Friday Flash Fictioneer photo is courtesy of Lora Mitchell. To read other stories, or learn how to participate, visit our hostess, Ralphie Wisoff-Fields blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ and click on the little blue InLinkz critter to find links other author’s blogs.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” She yelled to be heard above the fireworks.
“Yeah.” He studied her expression in the flash of each new explosion.
“Would you like to share some cotton candy?”
“Naw, I’m not interested in the bearded lady. Why don’t we get something to eat?”
“That sounds good.” She bit her lip to suppress a smile. “There’s a hot dog stand with huge pretzels over on the midway.”
“Yeah, they claim she has huge muscles, but she’s just overweight. I wonder about the facial hair, though.”
“Maybe it’s from all the pretzels.”
“You’re right. She’d make a great wrestler.”
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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