What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
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.
Lower Learning & Bad Manners
I was doing a little research today on things that annoy people. I’ll be attending the Oklahoma Writers Federation conference in OK, City this weekend and want to make sure I’m on top of my game when I roar into town. Thankfully, there’s a website dedicated to this task http://www.getannoyed.com/
You won’t believe the things that irritate some people (or maybe you would). Here’s an example; “People that interrupt you when you’re telling a story and then they continue to tell you their story and then ask you in an uninterested tone to continue on with your story when they are finished talking.” Does that sound like anyone you know?
Feel free to share your personal Pet Peeves in the comments section. Maybe I could learn some new techniques for this weekend.
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, the little Purplelidite who can calm even the most frayed nerves is Lavender Chamomile 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.
Is your child too intelligent?
Are they kind, attentive, and respectful?
Do they fail to embarrass you in public?
If so, join the hundreds of satisfied parents who’ve enrolled their children in the Blackwell Institute for Lower Learning and Bad Manners.
In just a few short weeks, we’ll transform your sweet, goody-two-shoes angel into the hateful, self-centered demon you’ve always dreamed of.
Our rude, foul-mouthed students master manipulative behaviors such as lying, cheating, and bullying without the least hint of social conscience or accountability.
Ninety-eight percent of Blackwell graduates advance to highly successful careers in government and politics.
Go bad. Go Blackwell.
Zombies of the Old West
I’ve discovered a new talent. I can predict when traffic lights are going to turn red. It’s simple actually. If I’m approaching a light, even if it’s just turned green, it will automatically turn red prior to my vehicle reaching the intersection.
If I’m sitting at a red light, the same rule holds true for drivers approaching the intersection from my left or right. It’s all part of the Secretary of Transportation’s new policy to help fulfill one of Donald Trump’s campaign promises, “Make America Late Again.”
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 traffic cop (who is in no way a woman of few words when engaged in a verbal conversation) is Maddie Blythe 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 © Liz Young
Carl shuffled through the swinging doors. Gray-faced and hollow-eyed, he made his way to the bar.
“What’ll ya have, stranger?” The words crawled from the bartender’s mouth and clung to a string of drool dangling from his lips.
“Formaldehyde. And make it a double.”
“Staying long in Purgatory?”
“Not any longer than I have to.” Carl moaned. “I’m just in town for the apocalypse.”
“You and ten thousand others,” said the bartender, picking at the decaying flesh below his right eye. “One piece of advice; stay upwind from the crowd. Old cowboys never die. They just smell that way.”
Don’t Take Me Literary
If you’re fortunate enough to own a copy of The Perils of Heavy Thinking, you already know that “Classic” is just a fancy word for “Old.” This explains why guys like JB Hogan prefer to be called a “Classic Geezer” as opposed to using the other adjective.
“Classic” is also gender friendly. When referring to the gentler sex, I recommend using it as a noun, as in “She’s a Classic.” This allows the reader to inject any word of their choosing at the end of the statement to more clearly define the female in question.
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 word guru is Confuse-us Yogini 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 © Magaly Guerrero
The Resource Center contained a series of primitive publications. People of my generation refer to them as books.
I scanned the shelf expecting to find works by Patrick McManus, Dave Barry, and that guy from Arkansas who thinks he’s so funny. None were there.
A couple of books did catch my attention. One by the Brothers Grimm, whom I surmised went on to become famous reapers, and another by person named Longfellow.
By the sound of his name, I concluded he was either a very tall individual or a porn star. Either way, I’m not sure the content would be appropriate for impressionable young minds.
The Days of Whine and Moses
Tomorrow is Connie’s birthday—and it’s The Big One. This will be the thirty-ninth anniversary of the day she turned twenty-one. How she can still look so young and attractive while I’ve just gotten old is amazing to me.
What do you get for the woman who has everything? One year I got her a lawnmower, another time it was a garden tiller. She already has one of those fancy two-wheel, wheel barrows. Perhaps she’d like a new barbeque grill. What’d you think?
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, our expert on 100-word gifts is Betty Boop 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 © Dale Rogerson
Young Herschel curled his upper lip and chewed as if he were taste-testing a dried cow patty.
“You call this a feast?” Breadcrumbs spewed from his open mouth as he spoke. “I can’t believe you got lost in the deli and spent the next forty minutes wandering around looking for milk and honey. Then, you come home with week-old pizza, a salad made from thistles, and sour wine that reeks of vinegar.”
“We’re celebrating our heritage, son.” His mother feigned a wry smile.
“Oh, I remember. The Feast of Unleavened Cardboard.”
“Yes, and your liberation from electronic devices.”
“But Mommm!”
The Valet of the Shadow
One thing you can say about the number of people using cellphones in their cars is that you don’t see as many nose-pickers at stop lights as you did ten years ago. In those days, every traffic light featured two or three motorist with a finger crammed up a nostril to the second joint. The way they were going at it, you’d have thought they were digging for gold.
If you’ll notice today, even those drivers texting or surfing the web have their mouths open. This is due to their nostrils being packed more tightly than the noses on Mount Rushmore. President Trump is taking credit for the creation of new jobs, known as “Schnozzola Sweeps,” caused by this malady. According to the AMA, those with particularly large noses can expect to see an increase in insurance premiums.
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, our resident expert on all-things-olfactory is Jenny Durante 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 © Jellico’s Stationhouse
The gloomy weather made it tough finding work. Prospective clients were continually in a foul mood. They went to bed grumpy and woke up more irritable than a hapless playboy who’d prefer to gnaw off his own arm rather than risk waking an unsightly bed partner.
The residents of Bellingham moved about as in a trance, a gray world where nothing was real. Even the shadows were artificial. Sunshine was rationed in anemic proportions.
Things got so bad, he was forced to hold a cardboard silhouette of Mr. Strutz’ bicycle and trot along beside the rider.
Love at First Squint
A grocery store chain in our area has a private label brand called Fit & Active. I’ve tried a few of the products designed for “a healthier you” (the Devil’s Food Cookies are amazing) and found them to have no impact on my waistline or energy level. The only thing that got lighter was my wallet.
You don’t need a Gallop poll to tell you there are more fat people in America than skinny ones. Who’s catering to the people who want to be overweight and lay around doing nothing? That’s why I’m proposing the Unfit & Idle brand. These tasty carb-laden snacks make your body produce more serotonin, a brain chemical that induces a mild state of euphoria known as Carb-coma—making you feel happy yet groggy at the same time. How sweet is that?
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, the little fit-to-be-tied author with an overactive imagination who ramrods this show is Louise Clairol 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 © Fatima Fakier Deria
Heads turned as she sashayed down the pier. Ebony hair pulled into a tight bun, button-nose thrust toward the sky, she projected an aura of self-confidence. Old tars looked up from their work. Young sailors dropped their nets, mouths agape.
“She’s a perfect fifty-seven,” quipped a squint-eyed salt, admiring her lithe figure. “Nineteen, nineteen, nineteen.
“Hiya,” he calls. “You know you’re awful pretty!”
“You’re pretty awful yourself.”
“What’s your name, Sweetie?”
“Olive Oyl.”
(under his breath) “Sounds like some kind of lubricant.
And what’s that wee thing tagging behind you?”
“My niece, Violet Oyl”
(under his breath) “Good thing I gots me snake boots on.”
A-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah!
Don’t Fence Me Out
I hate to admit this, but I have something in common with Donald Trump. I recently won a Presidential Election against a female candidate who was far more competent and qualified than me. My appointments include; Chevy Chase, Sec. of Slapstick, Bill Murray, Sec. of De Fence, and my personal Press Secretary, Perry Block. What could possibly go wrong?
When I joined Toastmasters, I thought the name implied a drinking club, but all they want to do is talk. Maybe I had them confused with that other group, Alcoholics Monogamous. However, I’m not going to let that interfere with my campaign promise, Make America Laugh Again.
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, the inquisitive little detective who always solves the mystery in 100 words or less is Nancy Drew 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 © J Hardy Carroll
“Al, you’ve got to do something.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“I don’t know, put up a wall or something.”
“That would cost Kansas City a lot of money, and I’m not sure how effective it would be.”
“It doesn’t need to be a huge wall. A short fence would do. Ever since you invented the Internet we’ve had nothing but trouble. At first it was just once a week, but now it’s out of control. The entire blogosphere is at risk.”
“Oh, come on, Tipper, don’t be so melodramatic. How much damage can one purple-obsessed pygmy do?”
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 