I’m not one to complain about federal employees, but how hard could it be to put letters in the right mailbox? The name and address is printed right there on the front. It seems easy enough when they’re marked Current Resident, Any Street, USA.
But if you’re expecting a check or an acceptance letter from a New York publisher (like that’s gonna happen), the Las Vegas odds are five to three it will be delivered to wrong address. This probably explains why I haven’t heard back from Hollywood concerning the movie rights to One Idiot Short of a Village.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the producer/director of our weekly 100 Word stories is Octavia Preminger 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 FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“I’ll be happy to process your claim,” said Steve. “Could you give me some details of the accident?”
“We were driving along, a good two miles from the nearest designated deer-crossing, when this brown-haired bimbo chose to disregard the law and dart in front of our car. Then, before anyone could question her, she fled the scene of the accident.
“Connie and I talked about it later and figured Ms. Jane Doe ran away because she didn’t have liability insurance. Sadly, our highways are overrun with uninsured wildlife, Steve.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Steve bit his lower lip and nodded.
*an excerpt from Saving Hollywood
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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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