If you’re fortunate enough to own a copy of The Perils of Heavy Thinking, you already know that “Classic” is just a fancy word for “Old.” This explains why guys like JB Hogan prefer to be called a “Classic Geezer” as opposed to using the other adjective.
“Classic” is also gender friendly. When referring to the gentler sex, I recommend using it as a noun, as in “She’s a Classic.” This allows the reader to inject any word of their choosing at the end of the statement to more clearly define the female in question.
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 word guru is Confuse-us Yogini Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block, click here.
The Resource Center contained a series of primitive publications. People of my generation refer to them as books.
I scanned the shelf expecting to find works by Patrick McManus, Dave Barry, and that guy from Arkansas who thinks he’s so funny. None were there.
A couple of books did catch my attention. One by the Brothers Grimm, whom I surmised went on to become famous reapers, and another by person named Longfellow.
By the sound of his name, I concluded he was either a very tall individual or a porn star. Either way, I’m not sure the content would be appropriate for impressionable young minds.
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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.