What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
The Most Heinous of Crimes
Tomorrow kicks off the annual gorging season here in America. Like me, I’m sure many of you have been in training for the past several weeks getting ready to put on an extra of layer of blubber before we head into winter.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than showing up at the Emergency Room with a pulled stomach muscle because you hadn’t properly exercised prior to a big meal. You’ll never win a medal at the Obese Olympics unless you get in shape—and round is the shape I’m talking about.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the chef who provides the stuffing for our weekly cornucopia of stories is Ernestine Gibbons Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Detective Lowry pulled to the curb and studied the house. Other than the police tape, it looked like every other cookie-cutter home in the neighborhood.
Inside, a team of forensic experts combed the scene. The homeowners, a young husband and wife, sat shell-shocked at the kitchen table.
“What’d ya got?” Lowry asked the senior inspector.
“Not much. The Do-Not-Remove-Under-Penalty-of-Law tags from every mattress, pillow, and piece of furniture are missing. Who would do such a thing?”
Lowry wiped a white smudge from the mirror. It smeared between his finger and thumb. “When we find the invisible box, we’ll find the tags.”
Smokin’ Hot
Remember the old excuse, “The dog ate my homework?” Teachers didn’t believe it then and they don’t believe “The dog ate my flash drive” today. As far as I know, C.E. Ayr is the only person who actually took dog feces to class to support his case.
Other popular excuses in today’s world include; The FBI confiscated it as part of their investigation into Russian tampering. I was abducted by aliens and they kept it as part of their research. A tornado sucked it right out of my Mom’s car. I’d love you hear any creative excuses you can add to this list.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Grand Marshall of our weekly parade of stories is renowned radio personality Gabby “Gate-Mouth” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Iowa City Fire Chief, Ken Peterson, removed his helmet and ran his fingers through what was left of his thin, graying hair.
This was their third fire in the past week. There would be an investigation of course, but he already knew the cause.
Fortunately, a lady in the apartment next door smelled the smoke and called 911. His crew arrived quickly and got the family out alive. The husband had been asleep on the couch, but they had to drag the wife out kicking and screaming—crying about losing her baby.
No wonder Peterson hated November. Damn that NaNoWriMo.
Black Friday Shopping
With Halloween securely in the rear-view mirror, the retail industry has declared Christmas Bombardment Season officially open. Apparently it’s “old school” to actually enjoy one holiday before moving on to the next.
Veteran’s Day is Saturday, but I’m not seeing ads for discounts on flags or restaurants offering free meals to those who’ve served our country. That means it’s up to us. If you know a Vet (and who doesn’t?), march right up to them, shake their hand, and thank them for their service. Don’t let this holiday get swept under the rug without acknowledging it.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our workshop is ran by Ma Keebler Wisoff-Fields, who serves up the prompts as part of her work-release program. To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
The day after Thanksgiving should be called something else. Black Friday doesn’t do it justice. People who never get up before 10am roll out of bed three hours before daylight, guzzle a gallon of coffee, and prepare to storm the stores.
Some women drag their husbands along as pack mules. I tried it once with Brad, but he’s harder to keep track of than a four-year-old at Chucky Cheese.
The concept of retail warfare flies over his head. It’s like trying to explain lip-gloss to a walrus. He nods like a bobble-head, but it just goes in one ear and out the other.
* the above is an excerpt from Black Friday Shopping Tips
The Spoiled Guest
I get my email in Outlook. Lately, the old gal has developed amnesia—or maybe Alzheimer’s. Either way it’s bad. She no longer recognizes me. Hers is short-term memory at its worst. Sometimes she asks me for my password two or three times a day.
I always click the little box that says, “Remember this password,” but she never does. I don’t know if an update would help her, or if she’s just getting to the age where she can’t remember who people are. That’s what happens when you get old (or, so I’m told).
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Facilitator has memory problems too. Each week I have to tell what her name is. You’d think she could remember something easy like What’s-Her-Face Wisoff-Fields? To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
copyright – Sarah Ann Hall
Dear Ma & Pa,
You was right about Aunt Ophelia and Uncle Wallace being surprised to see me. She broke out in tears and he was speechless for a couple of days. I never seen anybody so overcome with joy.
They shore got a fancy house. It’s even got an indoor toilet. There’s a big table in there with a whole bunch of jars on it. They’s so many, I didn’t know which pot to piss in.
Cousin Lucinda said if I come to her room tonight, she’d teach me a new game. I cain’t wait!
Your son,
Junior, Jr.
Draining the Swamp
“He’s more independent than a hog on ice.” This was one of my mother’s favorite sayings. In my sixty-plus years, I have yet to see a hog on ice so I don’t have a good visual image of what she was trying to communicate. What do you make of the metaphor?
Is the swine in question practicing a figure skating event for the upcoming 2018 Winter Olympics and unwilling to take instruction from his coach? Or, does he possess financial competency while sitting on a pile of diamonds? Or, is it a mixed drink made from bacon-flavored Liquor? I’d like your thoughts on this.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Jewish expert on 100-word pork stories is Petunia Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“We’ve been pumping for three days,” shouted Captain Ed Hocken above the roar of the diesel engine. “So far, all we’ve found is two revolvers, a shotgun, and a stolen car. What are you expecting to find, Lowry?”
“Evidence. You’ll know it when you don’t see it,” said the detective.
“Don’t tell me you’re still looking for that damn invisible box.”
Lowry glared at the gray Missouri bog. “It’s in there somewhere. Remember during questioning, when she kept tugging at her little feet like they were stuck in quicksand?”
“Yeah, she had a smirk too. You can’t trust mimes.”
The Battle of Gardenville
How many of you are collectors? As a youngster, I collected baseball cards. I’ve known people who collected stamps, coins, and belly-button lint. Not to be outdone, President Trump sports an impressive collection of ex-wives.
While collecting can be a fun, relaxing hobby, it can also become an obsession. The exhilaration of finding and adding a new piece to the collection is addictive and requires a frequent “fix” to satisfy the craving. Now’s the time to come clean. What do you collect?
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the curator of 100-word stories is Gertrude Vanderbilt Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“There he is,” whispered Platoon Commander Connie. “Shoot him.” She carried the flashlight while I lugged the heavy artillery, a bolt-action .22.
“Hold the light still.” The beam bounced around the backyard like a ping-pong ball in a blender. Sensing we were in a state of confusion, the armadillo launched a full-frontal assault and came charging toward our ankles.
A piercing scream shattered the night and echoed off distant planets. Rays from the flashlight ricocheted off tree limbs, power lines, and jet planes as the platoon commander retreated at warp speed–abandoning the lowly private in a vacuum of darkness.
*the above is an excerpt from a true-life adventure known as the “Battle of Gardenville.” The complete story will be included in my upcoming book.
Pelicans Hold White Supremacist Rally in NWA
GOSHEN, AR: Yesterday marked the return of the annual White Pelican Rally on Beaver Lake. Large flocks of the white fowl were spotted on White (of course) River between Pinhook and Neil’s Bluff.
Area merchants don’t expect much impact on the economy. “These birds are such tightwads,” said Greta P. Allendorf, owner of Cheap Thrills. “All they want to do is pig out at the free shad buffet on Beaver Lake and crap all over the shoreline.”
In response to the Pelican Rally, a murder of crows is staging a protest flight this Saturday. The Pink Flamingos have been invited to join in, but so far, no official word from the flamingos.
The Science of Birds
In school, I was never any good at science. All those experiments to unlock the mysteries of the universe seemed too much like work to me. It was a whole lot easier to unlock my imagination and just make up an answer.
Here’ an example: “How does electricity work?” Answer: The wires running to your house are actually hollow tubes filled with tiny energy gnats. These guys work for practically nothing, so the power company makes a healthy profit. Occasionally, the gnats go on strike (power outage) for higher wages, benefits, etc., and our rates go up. And that, boys and girls, is how electricity works.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the leader of the Gnat Pack of 100-word authors is Minah Birdbreath Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to join the Gnat Pack Union, fly over to her blog and complete the necessary paperwork. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Copyright – Douglas MacIlroy
“Here’s an interesting article.” Jan flexed the newspaper. “Remember a couple of years ago when all those birds were falling out of the sky?”
“Yes, I remember,” said Shelly. “Some of the birds were purple martins. It broke my heart.” She sniffed back a tear.
“Well, our wonderful government wasted ten million dollars of taxpayer money on a study to determine the gender of the dead birds. I could’ve told them how to do that for nothing.”
“Oh really? And how do you tell their sex, by the coloring?”
“No. It’s easy. The females always have their mouths open.”
I Spy – 1962
Last night, I participated in the Toastmasters Area F humor speech contest and finished seventh in a field of six contestants. While I performed well below my usual level of mediocrity, I did learn the value of marathon sleeping from one of the other speakers.
Did you know that extended periods of sleep can actually make you younger? It’s true. This explains why people often mention that I have the mind of a five-year-old. My brain is so fully restored that Connie sometimes scolds me for “acting like a baby.” Based on this new information, I’m considering taking up Competitive Sleeping.
Now, if I could just get my body to feel younger.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the master of 100-word sleep deprivation is Dr. Drowsy I. Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to join the Professional Nappers Assoc. amble over to her blog for a pillow and blanket. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
Genre – historical fiction (well, sort of . . .)
U.S. spies went through six months of rigorous training where they learned to use high-tech gadgets including tiny cocktail umbrellas with built-in microphones.
Many of the Kremlin conversations are still classified. Here’s one they did allow me to share.
“Tis good vodka, eh comrade?”
“Da. Hey Olga, more vodka for me and Niki.”
“How bout da legs on that Olga?”
“Da. She sleek as Cuban cigar.”
By decrypting a few key words of this exchange between Khrushchev and a top general, we can leap to the conclusion that Olga was the code name for one of the missiles bound for Cuba.
*today’s offering is an excerpt from “Running of the Chickens” one of the short stories featured in my upcoming tome, One Idiot Short of a Village. In the full version of this story, you will learn the important role secret herbs & spices played in resolving the Cuban missile crisis.
Watching Paint Dry – Part II
I saw my first Donut Ambulance yesterday. Those of you who have a Hurts Donut Company near you may be familiar with their delivery vehicles and the opportunity to have donuts delivered to someone you love (or hate) by a scary clown.
I’m assuming the ambulance contains a couple of Emergency Donut Technicians (EDTs) who can hook up an IV and get a flow of glaze started before your heart collapses from Donut Arrest. Where were these folks when I was writing my essay on Donut Abuse?
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the ringmaster of this 100-word circus is Krusty Kreme Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to join the Purple Insane Mime Posse (P.I.M.P.) sashay over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
I had taken my son Brandon, to a Phillies game. We were headed to our seats when I noticed one of the poles supporting the mezzanine marked with a ‘wet paint’ sign. I froze in my tracks.
Brandon tugged at my arm. “Come on, Dad. We’re missing the game.” But I couldn’t leave that paint to dry alone.
“Go ahead, son. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
I never took my eye off the pole for a single second. By the time Brandon returned four hours later, I could touch it without leaving a fingerprint.
Boy, was I needing to pee.
What we have here is an excerpt from “The Joys of Watching Paint Dry” from my upcoming book, One Idiot Short of a Village. The star of this episode, Perry Block, will also be releasing a book in November. Stay tuned for more shameless self-promotions.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 