Connie and got back from visiting Dr. Shlomo Raz at UCLA Medical Center late yesterday afternoon (my excuse for being late). I offered to donate my brain to medical science, but they politely declined, insisting they only accept brains capable of forming complete thoughts.
We’re going back for a longer stay in December and I’m taking my overalls. If you’re a Hollywood producer reading this, you might consider signing me for a new reality show, “An Arky in Westwood,” and we can film a few episodes while I’m in town.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Biker Mama in charge of this weekly Tour-de-blog is the fast riding Alcea “Hollyhock” 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 “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
“Is this the defendant?” asked Judge Burns.
“Yes, your honor,” replied Bailiff Smithers.
“Sir, you stand before the court charged with assault. The plaintiff states that on the afternoon of June 14th, in an act of premeditated malice, you swerved to strike a large boulder, causing the plaintiff to become airborne. Upon contacting the ground, he suffered contusions to the face, lacerations to both wrists, and a fractured left tibia.
How do you plead?
“It is my order that you be strapped to the largest tree in the town square and sprayed with dog urine.
Bailiff, release the hounds!”
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction
Stories From Within
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.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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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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