I’m a firm believer that the best way to improve your skills, whether it be in writing, sports, music, or attempting brain surgery, is to hang out with people who are better than you in your chosen discipline.
With that in mind, I recently joined a group that walks and chews gum at the same time. Believe it or not, a couple of our club members have even mastered blowing bubbles while performing this arduous task. Next week, we’ll compete against a team from Walmart headquarters. I’m confident we’ll chew ‘em up while walking circles around them.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the captain of our team, who never drags her feet when her mouth is full of gum, is Double Bubble Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a booth in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Margo tiptoed up to the porch, her knees clamped together.
“Y’all got a bathroom?”
She squinted through pop-bottle-thick lenses. A short man with a large nose stood near the door, staring back at her.
“What’s a matter, don-chya speak English?”
“Humph,” she grunted. “Listen shorty, if I don’t find a restroom soon—”
“He can’t talk, Ma’am,” said a voice beyond the screen door. “He’s just for looks.”
“Well, he might’ve been cute at one time, but a gal would need a bottle of wine and two brown paper bags to get cozy with him now. Where’d you find him?”
Evidently, Perry’s began a new career as doorman at the Tucumcari Trading Post. Let’s hope that most of the visitors are more gracious to him than Margo.
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction
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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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