Do you ever think about your hand? No, I’m not talking about that miserable selection of cards staring back at you when you’re playing strip poker and down to your last thread of decency. I’m talking about the one at the end of your arm. You know, old Mother Thumb and her four daughters.
Most of us take our hand for granted. Oh sure, we may occasionally rub some lotion on her or manicure her nails, but look at all the dirty tasks we ask her to perform. It’s disgusting. You’d never ask your foot to do those things. And if you did, it would probably rebel and give you a swift kick in the groin before running off with a shoe salesman from Toledo.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the cobbler who is adept at repairing and polishing previously published 100 word stories is Geppetto Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to have your heel replaced or a new sole sewed on, visit her site and follow the step-by-step instructions. To view the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
I’ve been cooking moonshine at the Stillhouse Spring for over thirty years. My little family business has been the victim of fires, tornados, hurricanes, floods, revenuers, and a drunk named Otis.
But through all those trials and tribulations, I’ve only had one insurance company. Y’allstate.
If a natural disaster, or government agency, busts up my still, I just hit 2 on the speed dial and quicker’n a cat can lick its ass, my agent, Cletus Thornwell is over here.
You know why their motto is, “You’re in a Good Hand with Y’allstate?” Cause they’re holding a drink in the other.
This is an extreme make-over of my September 2012 post, which can be found here.
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Flash Fiction, and Poetry
Stories From Within
Finding ways to make words sparkle
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.
Confessions of a Delusional Maniac
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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Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
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And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.