In September of this year, America lost one of the great philosophers of all-time—the irrepressible, and often quoted, Yogi Berra. In honor of his memory, I’ve included a brief list of his more famous “Yogi-isms” in my final post of 2015.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the wizard of wit and wisdom who pilots this international raft of writers is “Rockette” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to take a stab at this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
He felt like he’d been pummeled by a herd of reindeer. Halloween to New Year’s was a blur of parties, parades, shopping, and feasts. Aliens had failed to abduct him, world peace was elusive, and even attempts to pick up additional bad habits failed miserably. “Time to get a new bucket,” he sighed.
Lost in a depressive state of holiday lag, he sipped coffee and waited for ‘the next big thing.’
A sunbeam sneaked through the cut glass above the doorway, spraying a rainbow over his wife. “It’s time to get back on our diet,” she said.
“Yeah, I know.”
*a repeat from December 2012
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
Stories From Within
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.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
All the Blogging That's Fit To Print
AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.