After scheduling three days of vacation, based upon a forecast of gorgeous weather, I’ve come to the conclusion that I missed my calling in life. I should’ve pursued a career in meteorology. Connie can verify that I’m only right one-third of the time (a generous estimate) and don’t know what I’m talking about then.
I have a booming voice and a commanding stage presence. So what if my girth blocks everything on the map from Tulsa to the Pacific Ocean. The weather in Phoenix never changes anyway. I’ll admit I’m not as young and attractive as Heidi Waggoner, but I promise to never send you out into the sunshine with a raincoat.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our own little ray of sunshine is the effervescent Bubbles McCall Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Local farmer, Abner Dilday, awoke Tuesday to find a snow-white blanket of powder covering his pasture.
“It looked like a heavy frost,” said Abner, “but I knowed better’n that. Hell, it’s mid-summer in Calhoun County.”
Neighbor, Gwen Juicyfruit, had her own theory. “It’s fairy dust. I saw hundreds of them partying last night, their wings sparkling under a Strawberry Moon.”
“She’s sees lots of things.” Abner’s finger spun circles beside his ear.
“It’s ash chewings. There’s been a rumbling from the mountain all week. Last night, Uncle Bob came home drunk on moonshine, causing Mouth of Aunt Helen to erupt.”
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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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