What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
Upchucking Wood
Have you ever been watching TV or listening to the radio and decided to change channels when a commercial came on? If you’re like me, what you discovered is a hideous plot by advertisers to synchronize commercials. Somehow, they manage to successfully block every route of escape.
It doesn’t matter if you’re watching the news, sports, or Uncle Zeb’s Cartoon Camp, your program is going to be interrupted by someone pushing drugs or auto insurance. Punching the remote is a waste of time and thumb energy. I bet someone in the booth even calls down to the field, “Hey, Coach, have one of your players fake an injury—it’s time for a commercial break.”
While synchronized commercials do provide adequate time go to the bathroom, cook dinner, and wash your car, I still find them extremely aggravating. What pushes your buttons?
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the tiny fairy who sprinkles all the photo prompts with Purple Pixie Dust is Tinker Belle Merlot 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.
Hello. I’m Marty Woodchuck. You may remember my cousin, Gordon Dale Groundhog, who was brutally murdered a few years ago.
What you probably don’t know is why he was killed. In addition to being a top-notch weather forecaster, Gordon excelled at chucking wood. In fact, he was the odds-on favorite to win gold at the Wood Chucking Olympics.
Conspiracy theories abound as to who killed Gordon. Some blame the Chinese, others the Russians.
Today, prosecutors uncovered evidence linking Rowdy Beaver to the crime. Beaver, who was having an affair with Gordon’s wife, is said to be hiding in Montreal, Canada.
The Dressing Room
Recently, a friend of mine referred to a mutual acquaintance as “one sharp cookie.” I know he meant this as a compliment to her intelligence, but the visual image that flashed in my head featured shards of glass and razor blades stuffed discreetly inside a round confection. While she is a sweet person, I’m not sure she’d like to be called a “cookie”—unless of course, that was her actual name.
Speaking of compliments, a good buddy of mine once told me I was “sharp as a marble.” Naturally, I was flattered. Who wouldn’t be? Everyone knows marbles are perfect spheres, smooth and polished, with no sharp edges. Even if you swallow one, it’ll pass right through, slickernshit.
What was the best compliment you ever received?
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the lady who runs this show (and does Geritol commercials on the side) is Betty “Snarky” White 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.
copyright – Liz Young
“Have you been to the J. Jill store at Fashion Valley lately?” Mallory tucked a blonde lock behind her ear.
“No.” Raven blew a pink bubble and popped it. “Do they have any cute clothes for fall?”
“Totally. But the changing rooms, they like—barfed me out.”
“Really? How so?”
“For one thing, no hooks to hang your clothes. But what’s worse, the walls are made of glass. Ugggh . . . I was down to my thong when I saw people watching me. I literally died!”
“That’s grody to the max.” Raven popped another bubble. “So, what’d ya buy?”
the unwelcome wagon
Today, we’re going to discuss magazines. Why is it you can’t go into a waiting room without seeing the never popular Good Housekeeping, Better Homes & Gardens, and Southern Living?
Hidden in the plethora of advertisements, you’ll find articles with photos of neatly manicured homes. This is obviously the work of hired professionals who design and create these little edens.
What we need is some “real world” alternatives such as Messy Housekeeper, Nasty Gnomes & Gargoyles, and Northern Getting By. Name a magazine you’d like to see.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, little entrepreneur who runs this enterprise is Sidewalk Selling Sally 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.
Two men and a woman stood on the front steps.
Lowry opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “We’re with Neighborhood Watch. Is Shelley home?”
“No, Ms. Kohlen isn’t here, and yes, everything is fine.” He flipped open his wallet and showed her his badge.
Anguish spread across the woman’s face. “Oh no . . . what happened? Is she in trouble?”
“I can’t go into that. But I’m sure she appreciates your concern.”
Shoulders slumped, the committee exchanged whispers, and trudged away.
“Who was that?” Blockson asked.
“Welcome Wagon. And they didn’t even bring cookies.”
sloshing the delaware
I read an interesting article this week about sidekicks. The job description of a sidekick involves laughing at jokes that aren’t funny and making the hero (or late-night host) appear smarter than they really are. The sidekick can also be the butt of the jokes, which is where the “kick” comes in.
After all these years of going it alone, I’ve decided to take on a sidekick. I know the hours are horrible and the pay is less than nothing, but if you’re up for the challenge just drop me a note in the comments. I’m sure the two of us could knock ’em dead doing a comedy tour at nursing homes and insane asylums.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the little firecracker, who in 1976 created the first American flag made entirely of beer pull-tabs is Betsy Ross 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.
“If you’re looking for a bargain, I can make you a real deal on this baby.” The salesman pointed to the GMC Vandura.
“This is the van George Washington drove across the icy Delaware Bridge to make a beer run on Christmas Eve. According to Once-upon-a-time-epedia, the colonial troops were pissed because the taverns closed early and they had no ale to wash down their Christmas dinner of boiled socks and shoe leather. As you can see, there’s plenty of room in the back. It can haul twenty-five kegs.”
“Wow, twenty-five kegs!” The teenager peered inside. “Who was George Washington?”
unhappy returns
I saw on the news today where an old lumberjack found a full sheet of plywood in an Oregon forest. Lumber prospectors and home improvement gurus are rushing to the area in hopes of striking the mother lode.
Sasquatch who live in the area are extremely upset and demanding state and federal agencies stop the plywood snatchers from gleaning the forest of this valuable natural resource.
In other news, chemists at the Stay Puft Corporation have developed a marshmallow plant that grows similar to cotton. Film at eleven.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Space Cadet who captain’s this ship of writers is Dr. Joan Dale 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.
Welcome to the Earthling Return Center. My name is Sidra. How can I help you?
My wife and I abducted this earthling last night and it appears to be defective.
What seems to be the problem?
It cannot speak but attempts to communicate using sign language. Plus, it snatches the Do-Not-Remove tags from everything in the spacecraft. We performed a brain scan and all we got was images of wine glasses. The face is totally devoid of color except for black stars around the eyes. I’m not sure it’s native to this planet.
Sounds scary. I’d reject it too.
invisible strings
Connie and I have a Memory Loss Foam Pad on our bed. A lot of stores sell these. One company calls theirs Failing Memory Foam. I do recommend you stay away from Short-Term Memory Loss Foam as it only relieves half the memories instead of erasing the entire memory bank.
The nice thing about a Memory Loss Foam Pad is you wake up memory free. All that stuff you used to worry about—Fugottaboutit!
Most of the time, we don’t even know what day of the week it is. If you want this kind of blissful rest, don’t go another night without sleeping on a Memory Loss Foam Pad.
*Disclaimer – will not eliminate every stupid thing you ever did from your spouse’s memory bank.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Ladybug who oversees this Flea Market is Curlylocks 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.
The mime eased into a sitting position on the floor and lifted the invisible guitar from its case.
Cradling it in her lap, she ran her fingers over the firm body. Cool to the touch, with graceful curves and a long, slender neck. She strummed a few licks, allowing the vibrations to tease and tantalize her senses.
Shelley didn’t know how to play guitar, but there were hundreds YouTube videos on the subject. She’d learn in the privacy of her home.
When she mastered it, she would amaze children and adults alike with a stunning, non-vocal rendition of Happy Birthday.
Charlie Chan at the FFF Circus
For centuries, man has attempted to modify nature by crossbreeding different plants and animals of similar species. Sometimes the results have been successful and at other times a total disaster.
Oranges are a hybrid fruit, traced back to a cross breed between a pomelo and mandarin. Mules are also a classic example of successful crossbreeding.
But the worst example of genetics gone awry is the Spork. Sure, these two sleep together in the same silverware drawer, but that’s no reason to force them to have sex. It’s wrong. It’s unnatural. And just plain perverted. What’s next, Spork porn?
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the munchkin who oversees this virtual circus is Olive Brasso 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.
Charlie and his family receive free tickets to the Crook & Kelly Circus from Cassandra Crook who wants him to investigate the death of trapeze artist, Jennifer Fly.
The investigation uncovers a love-triangle between Fly, Penny, the sword swallower, and Trent Lo, the lion tamer. Was jealousy the motive?
Later, Charlie learns Wadsworth Ayr, the snake charmer, had the hots for Ms. Fly, who repeatedly spurned his advances.
To further complicate matters, someone sabotaged the cotton candy machine and destroyed the popcorn serving bags.
The only clues are a sticky can of insecticide, popcorn crumbs, and a giant flyswatter.
The Forest of Disenchantment
Connie and I watch a lot talent shows, The Voice, America’s Got Talent, and American Idol. While most of these programs focus on music, there’s a wealth of unmined categories where contestants could exhibit their skills and for a shot at fame and fortune.
Besides the obvious – Outstanding Authors (where unknowns read their work to a panel of celebrity publishers), a plethora of lesser appreciated talents might provide some great entertainment. Here’s a few ideas, Scottish Grave Diggers, Canuck Canoe Carvers, Name That Wine, and the never popular Watching Watercolors Dry.
I’m sure you can think of a few more that would make television viewers reach for a barf bag. Please leave one or two suggestions in the comment section.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the artist who splashes wine droplets on canvas and calls is “The Wrath of Grapes” is Georgette O’Keebler 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.
One day a group of Fictioneers went for a hike through The Forest of Disenchantment. Along the way they happened upon a strange looking tree.
“Do you think it’s the home of the Keebler Elves?” asked Keith.
“No,” Liz said, sampling a dry, tasteless cracker she found on the door stoop. “This cookie is awful.”
“Perhaps it’s a gnome house then,” Neil said.
“I doubt it. The door is too small.” Russell pointed to a tiny opening at the base. “I fear we’ve stumbled upon the lair of the infamous Purple Smurfmime. She’ll snatch the label right off your shirt.”
Parting the Yellow Sea
For those of us in the United States, yesterday was an important day. Grown men wearing top hats yanked a large rodent from its burrow and proclaimed Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow. I wish they’d pick a name that’s easier to pronounce. How about Punxsutawney Neil, or Punxsutawney Linda, or Punxsutawney Sacagawea?
And what’s up with the letters “PH” sounding like an “F?” It’s a conspiracy, I tell you. To prove my point, “H” even teams with “G” sometimes to make an “F” sound, as in EnouGH of this Phoolishness. What are they trying to do, kick “F” out of the alphabet?
Here’s your assignment. In the comments, change any word spelled with an “F” to “PH” or “GH” and words spelled with those letters to an “F.” Here’s an example: Who’s Aphraid ough Virginia Woulgh?
If you’re new to Phriday Phlash Phiction, the Phractured Phreda who runs this program is Fyllis Dilla Wisough-Phields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the Ph.Ph.Ph. Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Three or four of us ten-year-old boys were milling around the bathroom when I discovered that one of the toilets was clogged. If you flushed it, water would surge over the bowl and create a mini tsunami across the floor.
Too bad we didn’t have some toy Egyptians and Hebrews. It would have been a great time to stage a reenactment of Moses parting the Yellow Sea.
A tattletale ratted me out and I was sent to the principal. On my way back to class, visions of Pharaoh and Egyptian chariots flooded my consciousness.
One more flush couldn’t hurt anything.
The Jury’s Still Out
They say you are what you eat. The same hold true for your brain. From an early age, I fed mine a steady diet of Rocky & Bullwinkle, Looney toons, and that thrilling test pattern that appeared when TV stations logged off the air.
Fractured Fairy Tales was one of my favorites. The premise is easy to imagine. You simply take a classic fairy tale and add a twist. Imagine what you could do with characters such as Snow Not-So-White, Blondilocks and the Three Gray Hairs. In the comments, please leave the title of a Fractured Fairy Tale you’d like to read.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the fractured mime who runs this program is Shelley Kohlen 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.
Eric was pulled over for failure to proceed at a green light.
“Sir, have you been thinking?” the officer asked.
“No,” Eric replied, indignantly.
“Then you won’t mind taking a brain-wave sobriety test.”
The next thing Eric knew he was being fingerprinted and booked for DWT (Driving While Thinking).
“Mr. Wicklund,” said the judge. “Why didn’t you drive forward when the light turned green?”
“Well, your honor, I thought—”
“Ah ha!” the prosecutor screamed. “He admits it. He THOUGHT!”
After paying a hefty fine and attending a six-week course on thought-free driving, Eric finally got his license back.
*the above is a fractured version of the short story, The Perils of Heavy Thinking from the book by the same title.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 