What’s up with these adult sippy cups? Apparently it’s fashionable for everyone in the thirty-something crowd to be seen in public carrying around highly insulated drink containers with spill-proof lids. They sit around the break room and brag about how the ice hasn’t melted after two days in the Sahara, or the coffee was still hot after climbing to the top of Mount Everest.
Hello?? ~ Here’s a news flash for you. ~ You’re supposed to DRINK the beverage, not carry it around for weeks conducting temperature experiments. I suppose in a few years this same crowd will be comparing notes on adult diapers. Boy, isn’t that something to look forward to.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our hostess, who insists all stories fall somewhere between freezing and boiling, is Aladdin Von Yeti 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 dishwasher-safe mugs of the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“When the emcee called my name, I sashayed toward the microphone, accenting my patented hip-wiggle with every step. From out of nowhere this little, brown, Southwestern purse came waddling across the stage—straight for my ankles.
“I screamed. We all screamed. Even the marching band broke ranks and ran.
“Then that hag from Morrilton, ‘Debbie “Do-Gooder” Henderson,’ ran up and booted the armadillo with such force it went flying through the papier-mâché goal post on the Delta Chi float.
“The crowd went wild. Coach Broyles was so impressed he offered her a football scholarship and crowned her Homecoming Queen right there on the spot.
“I’ve hated that witch ever since.”
This event recalled by second-string cheerleader and renowned drama queen, Virginia Saxton. (An excerpt from the short story, Welcome to the Land of Opportunity)
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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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