The company I work for is continually reinventing itself. We’re even considering adopting an Aretha Franklin song and altering the lyrics to “Change, change, change . . . .”
Most people have hard time adjusting to change, but I tend to respond to it like a stomach virus. Once I get past the throwing up and diarrhea, I start to feel better and pretty soon my appetite has returned and I’m willing to try something new. Another healthy way to view it is like constipation and take up the motto, “This too shall pass.”
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the meter maid who makes sure we’re not double-parked is Lovely Rita 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.
Bang! The mayor slammed his gavel. “Is the committee ready to report?”
“Yes your honor. We’ve researched changing the classification of Nasal Falls from a hamlet to a village. It appears we need one more item to satisfy the qualifications.”
“And what is that?”
“According to constitutional bylaws, every village must have an idiot.”
“Where do we find one who’s willing to move to Wisconsin and work for cheese?”
“We’ve interviewed one applicant who shows promise. He’s been splitting his time between California and Florida. He’s looking to retire—and loves cheese. He even has a dog named Goofy.”
“Excellent. When can he start?”
Now, before you get your mouse ears wrinkled, I’m not implying that Mickey Mouse is an idiot. I assure you he’s much smarter than the mayor and council members of this wanna-be village. But still, I would question the sanity of anyone considering a move to Nasal Falls, WI.
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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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