Deer season opened here last Saturday. The first two days went as planned, then on Monday, Local Wildlife Union #413 called for a walkout. Deer set up a picket line in my backyard and began demanding shorter hours and holiday pay for Thanksgiving.
The timing of the strike caught the AGF (Arkansas Game & fish) off guard and threatened to end the season prematurely. Several hunting camps have sided with the deer in urging the AGF to settle quickly. However, if they give in to the deer, it’s likely the rabbits, squirrel, and waterfowl will soon follow suit.
My recommendation is to break the strike by bringing in “replacement deer” from surrounding states. Mississippi, in particular, has a good number of well-qualified deer who are dying to cross the border. Arkansas deer have threatened to file suit, but this is a Red State, which gives them about as much chance of winning as a fart in a whirlwind.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Game Warden, who strictly enforces the 100-word regulations, is Ranger Rocky Raccoon 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.
Dewayne had a God-given talent for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. As a youth, the sports teams he played on would often be ahead by as many as ten points with a minute to play, and find a way to lose—thanks to Dewayne.
The same held true when it came to romance and business. He’d filed almost as many bankruptcies and divorces as Donald Trump.
Overlooking his latest real estate acquisition, Dewayne envisioned couples lining up in droves to float through his Tunnel of Love.
Too bad it was downstream from the sewer plant.
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction
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.
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.
A Humor Blog
Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!
An author's perspective of mystery and more.
And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.