Time to Stop Digging

Well, I hope everyone got what they wanted for Halloween—not what they deserved.

Oh . . .? Connie just reminded me that Christmas is when people get gifts, not Halloween. Sorry, wrong holiday, my bad. These days they start promoting Christmas right after the Fourth of July so I have a hard time keeping up with when the event actually occurs.

I am thankful to be rid of political ads for a while. I’m much happier watching people walk around with no pants bragging about their Depends. Too bad the politicians weren’t wearing Depends over their mouth while they were spewing all that nasty filthiness about their opponents. That would have made ads worth watching.

If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the person who can help you get into the spirit of writing 100 word stories is Hanukkah Harriett 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.

copyright - Jean L. Hays
copyright – Jean L. Hays

Max and Cheryl were playing cards at Chip and Mindy’s house.

“Are you girls going shopping tomorrow?” asked Max.

“God, I hope not,” said Chip. “Mindy can’t leave home without spending at least two hundred dollars.”

“What?” The hair rose on the back of Mindy’s neck. “You know that’s not true. And I never buy anything over fifty dollars without asking your opinion.”

“Last week she came home with one of those ridiculous Christmas sweaters,” Chip continued. “Where’s she going to wear that? To a dog fight?”

“You said you loved it,” stammered Mindy.

“Probably to your funeral.” Cheryl grinned.



47 Comments on “Time to Stop Digging

    • I totally agree. The company I work for even has an “ugly sweater” contest every year at Christmas. It can be pretty hilarious.


    • There’s a bucket and backhoe attachment on the Edsel in the photo. Chip is “digging a hole” with his wife and doesn’t know when to shut up. As Will Rogers once said, “When you’re in a hole, stop digging.”


  1. Clearly he doesn’t need a shovel, Chip can dig his own holes! For the record, got that all on my own… which is a compliment to your writing, and a coup for me this week! So often I miss the hidden piece, Russell. I feel perfectly gloaty now. (* much better than bloaty).


  2. So many visions of bad Christmas sweaters popped into my mind. Keeping my lips zipped, though, so I don’t end up like Chip! Maybe Jimmy’s dad soled his back hoe to Cheryl.


  3. I like the story. I like the opening. But who is that handsome youthful long-haired guy in the black and white picture in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block next to your name? I knew it!

    Rochelle screwed up and put the wrong picture there. Right? Yep, that explains it.


  4. Russell, Poor man. They better check to see what he’s drinking for sure before the hole gets any deeper. Humorous and well written as usual. 🙂 — Susan


  5. Dear Russell,

    Chip is in too deep I think. His wife will probably fill the hole in on top of him and he’ll still be talking. (So why is it again that women marry and then stay married to those kind of men?) Great take on the prompt, sir.




  6. Dear Chip,

    I hope you enjoy the taste of Christmas sweater. I suspect you’ll be picking threads and fuzz out of your teeth for a while. Delightful take on the prompt.




  7. May be having a senior moment. Hope You and Connie are well and happy, by the way, great picture of a great old car, modified just a little.



  8. That frontend loader is going to make a lovely sound as it compacts the soil around Chips grave. Love the matching initials for their names too, Russell 🙂


  9. Awkward! Don’t you love it when married couples decide to dust off their unresolved issues during game night? Good story this week, Russell, with a healthy dose of reality.

    All my best,
    Marie Gail


  10. Chip’s a nasty type. Why did he tell her he loved the sweater, and then contradict himself and humiliate her in front of friends. I don’t like him. I hope he keeps on digging holes until he disappears out of sight down one. Good story – got me riled.


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Mandie Hines Author

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