Well, it appears another Powerball drawing has come and gone without leaving me a billionaire. Too bad, cause we had already earmarked every penny for something we couldn’t live without. Plus, I spent all week polishing my letter of resignation, ready to hand it in this morning.
I guess it’s just as well. I’d hate to be saddled with the burden of wealth. Had I won, no doubt Donald Trump would be calling this morning begging me to be his running mate in November. I hate to sound shallow or vain, but I just can’t see me teaming up with someone whose hair looks like that.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, beautician who clips and details every photo prompt prior to posting is Vidal Sassoon 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 fashionable hairstyles of the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“Hurry! Come quick. I’ve found it.” Amy struggled to catch her breath.
“You found what?” Dawn tiptoed around a broken statuary in the abandoned garden. “Another gazing globe covered in poison ivy?”
“No. The pathway to enlightenment. I knew it was here. I just knew it.”
“Are you sure it’s the right path?”
“Duh. There’s a sign on the wall next to the staircase.”
“Okay, but you know sometimes words have two meanings.”
Cautiously, the girls made their way up the winding stairs.
An old man sat slumped in an open porta-potty.
“Hi. I’m Kevin. Hope you brought some paper?”
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Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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