Welcome to the Rachel Crofton bus tour for the highly medicated. If you’ve ever taught a teenager to drive, you know the harrowing experiences that happen when riding with someone who has a wandering eye and an anvil for a right foot—in this case, Rachel’s daughter, Regina.
Your choices are;
a.) Keep your eyes clamped shut and a death grip on the “Oh Shit!” handle
b.) Take a fistful of sedatives 20 minutes before entering the vehicle
Today’s story is an excerpt from Rachel’s previously published essay, “Dodging Miss Daisy.” For those medicated enough to read the entire story, it can be found here.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the lady responsible for keeping our bus between the ditches is the ever capable Alice Kramden Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF author seating chart click here.
Training starts with basic left-knee steering, then more complicated maneuvers are added as the student gains confidence in hands-free operation of the vehicle.
To graduate, attendees must be able to safely navigate the freeway at seventy-miles-per-hour, simultaneously text their best friend with one hand, apply mascara with the other, and scream at unruly children in the back seat.
Upon completion, the girls receive a “Beauty of the Boulevard” ankle bracelet and a gift certificate for Maybelline products.
I couldn’t be prouder of that girl, but there’s no way I’m getting in a car with her behind the wheel.
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Flash Fiction, and Poetry
Stories From Within
Finding ways to make words sparkle
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.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
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I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
All the Blogging That's Fit To Print
AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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