Over the years, Connie and I have grown accustom to eating regular meals and sleeping indoors. Therefore, when Monday morning January 4th rolled around, I grabbed my lunch bucket and headed out the door whistling, “I owe, I owe, it’s off to work I go.”
It’s been almost a week now since I’ve had a Holiday meal, or stuffed my jowls with homemade cookies or candy. The signs of withdrawal, involuntary twitching and salivating like Pavlov’s dog when passing a donut shop, are still strong, but becoming less frequent.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Dealer who offers a new photo each week in exchange for 100 word stories is the Pastry Queen herself, Strawberry Shortcake Wisoff-Fields. (be careful mentioning the “short” part). If you’re not afraid of addiction, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the poor souls incarcerated the FFF Hollywood Squares Cell Block, click here.
Pterodactyl Airlines may not pre-date the Wright Brothers, but the furnishings inside the plane were definitely from the Paleolithic era.
Our seats measured two hand-widths in breadth, or roughly the size of a five-gallon bucket. Once all the passengers had their butts firmly stuffed into buckets, the co-pilot rolled a large stone in front of the door and we taxied to the runway.
Upon being cleared for take-off, our captain revved-up all four squirrel-cage engines and released the hand brake. Even above the high-pitched screaming of the woman in bucket 8C, we could still hear the pilot yell “Yabba Dabba Do” when we achieved liftoff.
*an excerpt from the short story, Saving Hollywood
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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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