They say time is relative. Funny, but I don’t remember having a relative named Time. I did know someone whose last name was Time that I was quite fond of. His first name was Quitting. We got along extremely well and often shared a beer or two after work.
Quitting came from a rather large family and had a good number of cousins. One of them became a lightning rod for controversy. People either loved or hated him. Complaints range from having to reset clocks twice a year to blaming physical illnesses on him. He is also charged with being a thief. Daylight Savings steals an hour every spring, but gives it back in the fall. I wonder what he does with that hour during the nine months he keeps it?
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our faithful facilitator, who takes a licking and keeps on ticking, is Jonnette Cameron Swayze 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.
“Perry, you attended the Pre-Paint-Drying Banquet last night. How do you see this battle shaping up? Is there one player who might come from nowhere to pull off an upset?”
“Keep an eye on ‘Plain Jane’ Jones. If she performs with the same intensity and passion she displayed in my hotel room last night, she’ll blow this thing wide open. That is, if she’s not too exhausted.”
“Perry, surely you don’t mean—”
“That’s right, JB. She painted all four walls and the ceiling. We spent the next six hours just lying on the bed watching it dry.”
*the above is an excerpt from “The Joys of Watching Paint Dry” starring the never-popular Perry Block, who happens to be celebrating a birthday today.
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
Stories From Within
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.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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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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