I feel sorry for all those people who put a lot of thought into Christmas shopping. They spend hours, weeks, sometimes months agonizing over which gifts to buy for their loved ones only to get a ho-hum response from the recipient before the item reappears three months later in a garage sale.
My approach is much simpler. Start at the garage sale and work your way back. So what if a wheel is missing on Tommy’s toy truck or Jenny’s doll only has one arm? The kids are going to spend more time playing with the box it came in than the actual toy anyway. And who cares if that decorative pillow has a wine stain on one side? Just pass it off as mode o’ day camo. They’ll love it.
If this is your first visit to the Friday Flash Fiction Flea Market of stories, the proprietress who offers a no-money-back guarantee is Felece’d Ya 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.
“You want fries with that?”
Still staring at the menu, he pointed to a cream pie photo.
“We got banana, coconut, or chocolate. Which do ya want?”
“Umph,” he grunted.
Working a block from the interstate, Fay had seen his kind before. A big, hairy galoot with bad table manners. His weathered hands made the salt shaker look like a thimble. Definitely not a tipper—this one.
“Banana it is.” She felt his gaze on her back as she went for the pie.
He gulped it down and headed for the door.
“Be careful, Kong. It’s a jungle out there.”
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