The other day I decided to purge some old files from my computer. Right-clicking on the unwanted files, I selected “move to trash” from the dropdown menu. Soon the mini dumpster in the bottom corner of my screen was overflowing with electronic garbage, so I clicked the “empty trash” button.
I have no idea where these trashed files go, but it stands to reason they wind up in an electronic landfill somewhere in cyberspace. Once there, they join the millions of decaying spam emails and rotting recipes for failed fruitcake. The stench is so overwhelming the cyber maggots must wear tiny nose clips.
According to the geeks at Tom’s Thumb Drives, the rising effluvia is creating a nebula of smog and threatening to choke the giant storage repository known as “The Cloud.” If that happens, we’re all in for a cyber storm of epic proportions. Better keep an umbrella and raincoat handy.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the tiny entrepreneur who is wanted for income tax evasion in seven galaxies is Marva the Martian Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Arriving at the police station, Lowry helped Shelley from the car and led her down a long, dimly lit hallway.
They stopped in front of a desk where a burly uniformed officer peered over his glasses at a computer screen. He looked up, studied Shelley from head to toe, and flashed a sly grin.
“It’s about time you brought one in decked out in full mime regalia. What did this one do Lowry, get into a yelling match with a parking meter?”
“Nah, even worse,” Lowry deadpanned. “She was arguing with a statue over who could collect the most pigeons.”
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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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