What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
Oh, Deer!
I’m not one to complain about federal employees, but how hard could it be to put letters in the right mailbox? The name and address is printed right there on the front. It seems easy enough when they’re marked Current Resident, Any Street, USA.
But if you’re expecting a check or an acceptance letter from a New York publisher (like that’s gonna happen), the Las Vegas odds are five to three it will be delivered to wrong address. This probably explains why I haven’t heard back from Hollywood concerning the movie rights to One Idiot Short of a Village.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the producer/director of our weekly 100 Word stories is Octavia Preminger Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Kent Bonham
“I’ll be happy to process your claim,” said Steve. “Could you give me some details of the accident?”
“We were driving along, a good two miles from the nearest designated deer-crossing, when this brown-haired bimbo chose to disregard the law and dart in front of our car. Then, before anyone could question her, she fled the scene of the accident.
“Connie and I talked about it later and figured Ms. Jane Doe ran away because she didn’t have liability insurance. Sadly, our highways are overrun with uninsured wildlife, Steve.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Steve bit his lower lip and nodded.
*an excerpt from Saving Hollywood
Jack Be Klutzy
How many of you are familiar with the radio spot, “Cars for the Blind?” In their ad, a spokesperson asks listeners to consider donating unwanted cars, trucks, buses, mini-vans, and stretch limousines to the blind. They’ll even take motorboats, yachts, and cruise ships if you happen to have one of those lying around.
Now, I’m not the kind of guy who discriminates against the disabled, but let me ask you, how many blind drivers do we really need on the highway? We’ve already got teenagers texting, ladies putting on mascara, and cops fantasizing about their next donut. It’s enough to make you want to have a few drinks before jumping into crosstown traffic.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our solicitor of 100 Word stories is Helen Keller Andretti Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Photo copyright – Janet Webb
“Hey, Jill. Hold my beer while I try this.”
“No, Jack. Please. Remember what happened last time?”
“That was purely a fluke. It could happen to anyone.”
“What about the time before that, and the incident last week.”
“Just a little string of bad luck. Anyone could slip while carrying a pail of water. As I recall, you fell down also.”
“Only because you tripped me.”
“Are you saying I’m not agile?”
“It’s not your fault. You were born with two left feet.”
“Just hold the beer. I can do this.”
“Okay, but let me call the fire department first.”
Within the Lines
If you’re a school-age child, there’s a brief window of time each year known as summer vacation. Some view it as temporary parole, but in my case more apt terminology would have been Work Release Program.
My dad began the countdown a month before school ended. He busied himself preparing and planning activities to occupy my time and to protect me from restlessness or boredom. While hoeing two-acre truck patches or shoveling manure, I would often long for the company of my cellmates and the hard, cold concrete walls where we were institutionalized nine months of the year. Summer was no vacation.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 Word straw-boss is Oholibamah Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Sheldon
Root Elementary School operated a supply store on the premises. This is where I received my first academic lesson involving the human anatomy.
The size of one’s fingers and hands is inversely proportioned to the size of the required writing instrument. For example, if you have fists like King Kong, your pencil should be no thicker than a toothpick. However, if you have fingers like Tinker Bell, you’re forced to use crayons the size of a baseball bat.
How they expected us to color within the lines when we couldn’t see the paper for the crayon was beyond me.
*the above is an excerpt from “Dragonslayer” in The Perils of Heavy Thinking.
Dumb as a Rock
Yesterday, I went to the store with the intention of buying three specific items. I took a list. This is a tool people my age use when they can’t remember what they had for breakfast. Just for the record, I had sausage, or ham, or maybe bacon. With egg and cheese on an English muffin, or a biscuit, or was it toast? Who cares? The point is, I had a list!
A list may sound confining, but mine was filled with freedom. I could add up to eight more items and still qualify for the Express Lane. Naturally, I took advantage of this by adding a few non-essentials like cookies, potato chips, and beer. After a two-hour ordeal in the Express Lane, I finally made it home with my purchases.
“Where are the three items I asked you to pick up?” said Connie, after rummaging through the Fast & Friendly bags. “I thought you had a list.” ~ OY!
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our expert on 100 Word memory joggers is Alexis Trebek Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
I began growing dumber the moment our children turned 13. This rapid declined continued until I achieved the status, “Dumber than a rock.”
When dealing with rocks, I’ve discovered they are extremely stubborn. I tried praise and encouragement. The rock refused to budge. When that didn’t work, I resorted to screaming, cursing and name-calling.
After pondering the intellect of rocks, I came to the conclusion they are not stupid, just strong-willed.
Teenagers may think they have all the answers, but they’ll find it’s like banging their head against a stone wall when they try to match wits with a rock.
Road Trip
To those of us living in the northern hemisphere, today marks the summer solstice—the longest day of the year. I know what you’re thinking. The longest day in history occurred when you and your spouse got into a fight on that cross-country road trip. Yep, driving 782 miles in frigid silence can make for a long, long day. Not the best way to start a two-week honeymoon.
On the other hand, we’ve all experienced extremely short days that we wished would last for a hundred years. I’d love you hear your recollection of an especially long or short day.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the person who waves the green flag to start our weekly 100 Word race is none other than Danica “Cow Patty” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
There’s an icon on the dash that indicates when the tank is almost empty. The flashing red light really seems to annoy Brad.
He immediately flies into a tirade about how we’re going to be late, followed by an extended period of prayer in which he begs the fumes to holdout until we get to the nearest gas station.
I really think he should plan better and allow more time, but the last time I mentioned it he glared at me with fiery eyes and clenched teeth.
He doesn’t take suggestions well when he’s pushing a car in the rain.
* an excerpt from Peeves I Like to Pet
Greenhouse Gases
How many of you read the obituaries? Connie thinks I have a morbid curiosity because I like to know who’s still among the living and who’s not. Sometimes you find out fascinating things about total strangers. So far, none of them have bequeathed me a million dollars.
I’ll be reading one of these interesting epitaphs out loud and Connie will ask, “How did they die?” (Like, I’m supposed to know.) “It doesn’t say,” I reply, “but they were only ninety-six, so let’s assume it was in the throes of passion.”
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 word embalmer who prepare the weekly photo prompt for viewing is Morticia Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter
“This is where you’ll be sleeping tonight,” I point to a cot. “And remember, no sparks or open flames.”
“I drive all the way from Pennsylvania and you make me sleep in this dump?” Perry tossed his duffel bag in the direction of a folding chair.
“Hey, you volunteered. Go green, you said. Avoid dangerous pesticides. Don’t harm the environment.”
“I should’ve known something was up when you and Connie kept shoving brown beans, sweet potatoes, and broccoli in front of me at dinner.”
“It’s just for one night. Once you’ve exterminated the insects here, you’ll move to the garage.”
Too Many Cooks
Nothing causes more moaning and gnashing of teeth at our house than when the internet goes down. We live in a rural area and are dependent upon a wireless signal from a nearby tower.
These interruptions in service always happen at the most inopportune time. Connie will be in the middle of a Facebook post, or I’ll be at Dictionary.com (researching whether sh*t is spelled with one “T” or two) when the system crashes. Our provider says, “You’re not holding your mouth right. The signal is bouncing off the metal fillings in your teeth.”
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 word technician who never fails to provide an electrifying story is Reddy Kilowatt (with two “T”s) Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Karuna
The cooks at the VFW—Chester, Lester, and Moe—spent two days huddled around a fifty-gallon kettle perfecting their version of Chicken Booyah.
Chester insisted on a double portion of oxtail to give the stew a stiffer body. Lester argued that rutabagas must be added first to maintain proper consistency, while Moe’s primary responsibility was to ensure nobody’s glass ran empty.
On this particular occasion, the post commander received two-dozen phone calls demanding the menu be altered. This caused such consternation that Moe spilled Lester’s drink, resulting in a fistfight and an accidental overdose of red pepper in the Booyah.
*based on the photo, guess which one is Moe.
Toast
How many of you have started a diet and quit? Go ahead. Hold you hand up. Noboby’s gonna slap your chubby little fingers. You’re not the first to give in to the lust for food. It happens to all of us.
When I was younger, I might have felt a twinge of temptation toward the sins of the flesh. But now, I find myself assaulted by a greater demon. One who attacks my waistline. Instead of rolling down hill like a snowball headed for hell, I’m rolling like a donut headed for a cup of coffee.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 word dietitian is Wendy McShortstuff Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a booth in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
He was not the kind of guy most women would find attractive. Short, dumpy, bald on top, with a nose that would make a Washington apple jealous.
His demeanor leaned toward the grumpy, mad at the world, self-proclaimed victim side. His expression, a permanent frown.
“How do you like your toast?” she asked.
“Black on both sides—and no butter!”
His life was an act. They both knew it.
Constantly on the road, her love wore thin as the gossamer lace of a spider’s web. After ten years, she tired of being his clown.
“Bozo, this relationship is toast.”
The Wait
Online shopping. If you own a computer or cellphone it’s bound to happen sooner or later. You’re lounging in your underwear when curiosity gets the best of you. “I’ll look one of those up, just to see how much they are,” you say, quite innocently.
Four hours later, you’re still riding the wave. Surfing from one site to another in search of a lower price, different color, or heaven forbid—FREE SHIPPING. By now they know more about you than the CIA, FBI, and the nosy neighbor across the street. Your bladder is ready to burst, but you’re only two clicks away from the bargain of a lifetime. Ah, sweet relief . . . .
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Home Shopping Guide for 100 word stories is Karen Cowan Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a booth in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Two doors down stood the Rock Hard Café. We ducked inside and were soon seated at a cozy table near the back. Music videos from the seventies and eighties ran non-stop on a series of flat-screen TVs hanging from every nook and cranny in the joint.
We sipped our drinks with caution and aged gracefully in the gloam while the chef butchered the cow, caught the fish, and grew the salad. By the time the food arrived neither of us could remember what we’d ordered. We couldn’t care less as long as it didn’t fight back when stabbed with a fork.
Dodging Miss Daisy
I came home yesterday to find another Home Improvement magazine in the mail. I was livid. On multiple occasions, I had discussed this at length with our mailman, informing him that such publications fill Connie’s head with new ideas which always lead to more projects assigned to me.
“Tomorrow morning, I’m going to call the post office and give them a piece of my mind,” I raved.
“That’s what I love about you,” said Connie. “No matter how little you have, you’re always willing to share.”
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, our Professor of Blogology with a masters in 100 word stories, is Dr. Fictoria Roseannadanna Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block, click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
I encouraged my daughter to enroll in the Maybelline Advanced Drivers Course for Women.
Instructors start with basic, left-knee steering and add more complicated maneuvers as the student gains confidence in hands-free operation of the vehicle.
To pass the course, students must be able to safely navigate the freeway at seventy miles per hour, simultaneously text their BFF with one hand, apply mascara with the other, and scream at unruly children in the back seat.
Her diploma included a Beauty of the Boulevard ankle bracelet and a gift certificate for Maybelline eye-care products.
I couldn’t be prouder of that girl.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 