What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
Rachel Crofton’s Black Friday Shopping Tips
Today’s guest blogger is the irrepressible Rachel Crofton.
I’ve created a list of pointers for those of you heading into Black Friday battle for the first time. Holiday shopping is physically and mentally demanding. It drains your energy in direct correlation with the amount of debt you accumulate during the Christmas season. That’s why it’s important to load up on as many bargains as possible, or as my husband would say, “Save until you’re broke.”
Here are a few tips to help accomplish that goal.
- Draw up a battle plan: Watch for sale circulars and TV ads featuring ridiculously low prices on items your family members claim to want but will never use. Read the fine print. Some stores have limited quantities. You’ll want to ransack them first. You can always sell the unappreciated gifts later at a garage sale for a fraction of the purchase price.
- Study the terrain: Most stores have a copy of their floor plan posted somewhere. If you can’t find one, scope it out in person. Pretend you’re a bank robber and “case the joint.” Jot down the aisle number of your prize and highlight the shortest route on your treasure map.
- Select the proper weapons: On this special day, I carry an oversize purse loaded with an eight-pound brick. Any hussy who tries to get between a limited-quantity, half-price treasure and me, is apt to experience a solid thud against the side of her head and not wake up until the day after Christmas. Shopping carts also make good weapons. I drive mine like a Monster Truck. Why bother going around obstacles when you can run over or through them? If some ditsy little schoolmarm tries to block the aisle, she can expect to have tracks across her back. I also recommend wearing pointed boots. These come in handy if you need to “accidently” trip someone or provide a swift kick in an unyielding body part that’s blocking your path.
- Dress appropriately: Ladies, this is not a fashion show. It’s more like a prison riot or the running of the bulls in Pamplona. Wear loose-fitting clothes that allow for ease of movement and hide bloodstains well. If you decide to put on make-up at such an ungodly hour, apply it boldly in war-paint fashion.
- Assume a Warrior attitude: This is not a game. The enemy plays for keeps. You can either strut to the car proudly displaying the spoils of war and receive a hero’s accolades on Christmas morn, or you can hang your head in shame while your loved one pretends to be excited about finding a sock monkey under the tree three years in a row.
- Celebrate Your Victory: It’s time to treat yourself. You arose at an hour when only garbage collectors and those who operate donut shops should be roaming the streets. You’ve earned every chipped-tooth and broken nail along the way. Calculate your savings. This is how much you get to spend on yourself.
Now, go out there and do yourself proud.
Finding Cinderella
Rachel Crofton stopped by last week. She’s been busy editing and adding bullet points to last year’s Black Friday Shopping Tips. I will be posting those points here a few days prior to Thanksgiving for those of you willing to risk life & limb to save a dollar-two-ninety-eight.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Trail Boss who herds these cats down the 100-word path is Rowdy Ronda Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Joan had planned to go Christmas shopping, but a torrential downpour of sunshine forced her to abandon that notion. Besides, what would she wear?
After throwing one of her favorite slippers at a candidate during a political rally, she was down to only twenty-two pairs of shoes, none of which seemed to coordinate well with her floral moo-moo and zebra-striped purse.
Today was Friday. Her boyfriend would be coming for dinner. He wasn’t much to look at, but had a great sense of humor. Sometimes they went bowling. Tonight, she just hoped to keep his mind out of the gutter.
Day After Undead Day
If you’re dropping by to read my take on this week’s photo prompt, I want to forewarn you, it’s a pretty morbid tale. Frankly, I’m embarrassed to even know an author who would stoop such lowbrow forms of entertainment.
Come Friday, I’ll be heading to the wilderness for “the meeting of the mindless,” better known as DEER CAMP. This twice-a-year event has little to do with deer hunting and is more concerned with 3,000-calorie meals, an adequate supply of beer, and good conversation.
If this is your first visit to the Friday Flash Fiction cemetery, we hope you’ll choose to become interred with us. To find out more about this FREE offer contact Morticia Adams Wisoff-Fields. To view the headstones of other FFF Authors click here.
Do you have a recently deceased loved one who refuses to stay in the grave?
Do they spend day after undead day wandering the neighborhood looking for someone’s head to bite off?
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In the past year, thousands of American corpses were injected with a product from the Dominican Republic commonly known as “Uncle Sal’s Embalming Fluid and Furniture Polish Remover,” which impairs the ability to rest in peace.
At the law offices of McLively, Block, & Ayr, we give-a-damn about the rights of the undead.
You owe it to your loved one.
Call 1-ANO-BRA-INER
From Frazzled to Frayed
A few months ago, the Washington County Road Department, in their infinite wisdom, decided to grade our dirt road. This is a process whereby they fill the smooth, clean ruts that we have spent months honing to a near-asphalt finish, and fill them with a thin layer of gravel extracted from the road ditch. The result is like roller skating on a field of marbles.
Then, so we couldn’t report the devastation, the grader operator tilted his long, steel blade and severed the phone line at regular twenty-foot intervals. It took seventeen phone calls and two months of constant badgering to get a new phone line installed. A week later, the grader came back and sliced it in two again. I guess they just could let a buried line go unpunished. Hence the photo below.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Blog Gang Warden who keeps this motley crew of writers in check is Swifty “Gardenhose” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
The flight attendant demonstrated the safety procedures for Pterodactyl Airlines.
“In accordance with FAA regulations, your seat cushion doubles as an anvil. Please fasten the strap securely around your neck in the event of a water landing. This will greatly reduce the risk of shark attacks, as they prefer passengers who thrash on the surface rather than those who sink lifelessly to the bottom.”
Twenty minutes later the attendant’s voice echoed through the cabin like a chorus of angels. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Make mine a double.” Within moments, Corine’s nerves mellowed from frazzled to simply frayed.
Ramen Gruel
Do you remember when every can of Pork & Beans contained one or two tiny cubes of a white, tofu-looking substance? Supposedly, this was “The Pork” responsible for top billing in the product’s name. Even though these morsels appeared to have no flavor of their own, they were as sought after as the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks.
Fights were known to break out at the dinner table. I’ve seen kids come to school with fork marks in the back of their hand because they tried to steal “The Pork” out of their sibling’s plate. What marketing genius. It just wouldn’t have had the same power if they’d called it Beans & Pork.
Speaking of genius, if you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the story chef who sprinkles hidden gems throughout each delightful treat, is Betty Crocker Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
With the hiring of Helga Von Kidneystone, the cafeteria food at First Security Underwear and Ironworks went from bad to inedible.
Due to low demand for chastity belts over the last three decades, plant owner, Rip Skinflint, fired Chef Boyardee and slashed the food budget.
“I don’t care what kind of slop you feed ‘em,” Rip told Helga, “as long as they get enough protein and carbohydrates to get their work done.”
Having little to work with, Helga recalled a Martha Stewart simple soup recipe from a prison video.
50 gals. Pond water
1 broken office chair
20lbs. grass clippings.
Walmartian Tour, 2012 (reprise)
I’ve been accused of a lot of things in the past three years. Putting gum in Janet’s hair, planting a whoopee cushion in Sandra’s seat, and singing Buck owens’ “I’ve Got A Tiger By Tail,” at the top of my lungs until the bus driver was ready duct tape my mouth shut.
Sure, the wheels on this bus go round & round all over the globe, but there’s no way I’m singing “99 Bottles of Purified Water.”
Some people get to their destination and hop off, new riders get on, and the journey continues. One thing’s for certain, “We’re not there yet.”
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the driver of this bus, starting her 4th year of service, is Ralphetta Kramden Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Their bags were packed and tucked safely in the storage compartment. His and hers spandex tights, pink stilettos, size forty-two thong underwear, weed-whacker shredded T-shirts, leopard print Cougar-wear, and two large bins of hair color, styling gel, and assorted make-up.
“A quarter of a million people applied for this year’s team,” said Bob Grossman, talent coordinator.
“The competition was extremely stiff. It’s not enough just to dress tacky or obscene. Bad taste and poor judgment comes naturally to some people, but sinking to this level requires hard work and dedication.
“We appreciate the Friday Fictioneers promoting the tour,” said Grossman.
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In response to Ralphetta’s question, the 100 word limit of FFF has taught me analyse each word of every sentence in order to condense a full-length story into brain fart. The highest compliment I ever received was from former fictioneer, Linda Vernon, who once said, “Russell’s writing is tighter than Kim Novak’s face.”
Thanks to all who have read my nonsense and chose to click the “follow” button. And a special thanks to Ralphetta for keeping the bus between the ditches.
Weekend at the Quilt Guild
Last Friday morning, I arrived at the Inn of the Ozarks in Eureka Springs only to be greeted by this lovely sign on the marquee.
Evidently, we were in for quite an adventure in travel as they had repeated the word twice. I imagined a band of Writing Quilters, or Quilting Writers, traversing the country in a Gypsy wagon peddling hand-bound stories in extra-softcover editions.
Actually, the correlation between writers and quilters is not so farfetched. Quilters stitch together blocks of fabric to form a beautiful piece of art that often carries a theme or serves as a reflective memoir of a special occasion. Writers piece together scenes to construct a story to entertain or enlighten the reader.
To get in the mood for this piece, I tried typing with thimbles on all eight fingers with my thumbs securely tucked inside the holes of a pair of scissors. I found this to be rather cumbersome, but clicking noise did remind me of an Irish Stepdance. So far, it’s done nothing to enhance the content.
I will not be posting a Friday Flash Fiction this week as I am bound for four days of outdoor recreational activities (yes, that means drinking beer) and will not have access to a computer or the web. Perhaps I’ll have a good story (that’s not too embarrassing) to tell upon my return.
Spin Cycle
This weekend, I’ll be rubbing elbows with talented writers, editors, and publishers at the 48th Annual Ozark Creative Writers Conference in Eureka Springs.
I think I’ll go incognito and dress as Hemingway, Faulkner, or Stephen King. They seem to have grown tired of my impersonation of Jackie Collins, except for that one guy who keeps pinching my rear.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the ring leader of our Merry-Go-Round of stories is Nell Fenwick Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Reginald Hansen twisted one end of his handlebar moustache. This had become an auto-reflex when he was deep in thought—and lately he’d been thinking a lot.
A notorious liar, his mother urged him to take advantage of his talent and sell used cars. His father, a banker, insisted he study law and become a politician.
Defying them both, Reggie ran away to join the carnival. Normally, he worked as a barker, convincing people to play for stuffed animals in a rigged game.
Tonight, he’d check another item off his bucket list. So what if it was a kiddie ride. (100 words)
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What happens next? You pick the ending. Does Reggie,
- Tie a girl to the railroad tracks
- Make-out with the Bearded Lady in the Tunnel of Love
- Pee in someone’s popcorn
One Idiot Short of a Village
The company I work for is continually reinventing itself. We’re even considering adopting an Aretha Franklin song and altering the lyrics to “Change, change, change . . . .”
Most people have hard time adjusting to change, but I tend to respond to it like a stomach virus. Once I get past the throwing up and diarrhea, I start to feel better and pretty soon my appetite has returned and I’m willing to try something new. Another healthy way to view it is like constipation and take up the motto, “This too shall pass.”
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the meter maid who makes sure we’re not double-parked is Lovely Rita Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Bang! The mayor slammed his gavel. “Is the committee ready to report?”
“Yes your honor. We’ve researched changing the classification of Nasal Falls from a hamlet to a village. It appears we need one more item to satisfy the qualifications.”
“And what is that?”
“According to constitutional bylaws, every village must have an idiot.”
“Where do we find one who’s willing to move to Wisconsin and work for cheese?”
“We’ve interviewed one applicant who shows promise. He’s been splitting his time between California and Florida. He’s looking to retire—and loves cheese. He even has a dog named Goofy.”
“Excellent. When can he start?”
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Now, before you get your mouse ears wrinkled, I’m not implying that Mickey Mouse is an idiot. I assure you he’s much smarter than the mayor and council members of this wanna-be village. But still, I would question the sanity of anyone considering a move to Nasal Falls, WI.
An Accident Waiting to Happen
What’s that distant rumble? Is it thunder?
No, it’s the roar of motorcycles approaching Northwest Arkansas for the 16th Annual Bikes, Blues, and BBQ. The event officially kicks off on Wednesday and builds to a crescendo before reaching an undulating climax late Saturday night. (You won’t read that description in the newspaper.)
I feel sorry for those poor Biker Babes who can’t afford adequate clothing. It breaks my heart to see them walking up and down Dickson St. wearing nothing but sunglasses, boots, and a couple of bandanas held together with thin strips of leather. What if they get in an accident? I hope their mother reminded them to put on clean underwear.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the EMT who doctors writer’s rash (only if you’re sporting clean prose) is Clara “Fruit of the Loom” Barton Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Steve thumbed through the script of questions prepared especially for us.
“How many grandchildren do you and Connie have, Russell?”
“We’ve got five grandchildren.”
“Do you ever worry about having an accident when the children are in the car?”
“I wouldn’t say I worry about an accident, but the thought has crossed my mind. If the urge hits while I’m driving, I clamp my knees together and try to hold it until we get home or to the nearest gas station. I’ll admit, we’ve had a few close calls.”
“I see.” Steve bit his lower lip and nodded in agreement.
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*The above is an excerpt from “Saving Hollywood,” a factual account of the filming of an auto insurance commercial earlier this summer.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 