Well, I made it back from my four-day sabbatical in the wilderness. Unlike Jesus, I didn’t fast for forty days, but I was tempted by the Devil. He showed up with some beer and started ragging me about all the poor, hard-working Americans at the brewery who count on me for a paycheck.
Then he quoted Babe Ruth and said, “If you don’t drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams will be shattered. It’s better for you to drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about your liver.” How can you argue with logic like that?
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our emcee—beginning her third year as hostess with the mostest—is Alexis Trebeka Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
*CJH WARNING – The post below contains crude, juvenile humor.
Arvel loved submarines. As a youngster, he used to lie on his back in the bathtub and holler, “Periscope up!”
He joined the navy right out middle-school, having completed each of the last three grades twice. Arvel had no problem treading water and could float like a piece of driftwood, even propelling himself along, providing his diet contained the optimum mixture of broccoli and beans.
The highlight of his military career came while stationed in New England. Arvel led a group of drunken sailors protesting higher beer taxes in what later became known as the famous Boston Pee Party.
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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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