After months of badgering by my beloved wife, I scheduled a return visit to the heart doctor for a check-up. Those of you who’ve read “The Incident” in The Perils of Heavy Thinking know all about my encounter with HPSS (Home Project Shock Syndrome) five years ago.
Dr. Boris Bogomilov is a rather short fellow who speaks good English, but with a heavy Russian accent. Fortunately, I’ve watch thousands of episodes of Rocky & Bullwinkle and have no problem understanding his lingo. Thus far, I’ve resisted the temptation to ask him to say, “Moose and Squirrel,” or if he could see Sarah Palin’s house from his childhood home in Russia.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Surgeon General who demands we bend over and cough out new stories each week is Dr. Michaela Quinn 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.
“Evan and I are having problems.” Michelle pursed her lips and stared out the window. “We never talk. It’s like living alone.”
“What happened?” Becca caught the glisten of tears in Michelle’s eyes.
“It’s that damned Smart phone. If he’s not on Facebook, it’s Twitter, or YouTube, or Amazon. I could be making love to another man right here on the sofa and he’d never even notice.”
“Sounds like a serious addiction. Where is he now?”
“Upstairs. I asked him to draw me a hot bath. Know what he said?”
“Sure, sweetheart. I’ve got an App for that.”
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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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