How many of you have at least one friend who is a real cheapskate? (Or maybe it’s your friend who knows someone like that 🙂 ) I have a buddy who’s so tight he squeaks when he walks. When we go to lunch, it’s takes half-a-can of rust remover just to get his wallet open.
This guy loves to go to garage sales—and he’s a real negotiator. If the price is a dollar, he’ll offer twenty-five cents. If the item is fifty cents, he tells the owner, “Pay me a dollar, I’ll gladly to take that thing off your hands.”
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the word-count tightwad who runs this show is Jacqueline Benny Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the ensemble of practicing fic-titioners in the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
I was leaning on the handle of my hillbilly backhoe when the Purple Pygmy and the Watusi Canuck came waltzing across the pasture.
I hopped in the hole and pretended to dig.
“Nice pond,” said the Canuck. “Mind if we take a dip, eh?”
“No freebies. It’s gonna cost ya.”
“How about a rare work of art?” The pygmy flashed a crayon drawing of baby venison on the hoof.
“What else ya got?”
“I could do your portrait?”
“Okay, you got thirty minutes—but no diving!”
Little did they know I was just cleaning the pit under the outhouse.
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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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