What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
So Easy an Idiom Could Do It
Computer networks have been crashing left and right the past few days, grounding airplanes, disrupting Wall Street, and totally blacking out every other word in Hilary Clinton’s personal emails. Fears of hackers and cyber attacks have people pointing fingers and placing the blame on everything from same-sex marriage to the Confederate flag.
I hate to burst your iCloud, but these problems were not caused by a Supreme Court ruling or a piece of striped cloth. The epicenter of confusion began in Havertown, PA with the purchase of a new laptop by one Perry Block. Within hours, Mr. Block had spilled coffee on the keyboard, downloaded malicious malware, and busted the screen. Hence setting off a chain of events that has crashed servers and destroyed corporations around the globe. Read the full scoop at PC Calamity Times Three.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the PC Guru who successfully posts new photo prompts each week is Billie “Gatemouth” 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.
Ian was eleven when his parents moved to the not-so-deep South. His anxiety about fitting in and making friends was put to rest during his first few days at school.
The children were friendly and accepting. His biggest hurdle was one he didn’t expect—the language. No one spoke plain English. Every sentence was a series of phrases, difficult to decipher, and unrelated to the subject.
“Sometimes I feel like a square hole in a round peg,” he told his mum.
“I understand,” sighed Mum. “Your poor father feels like a fox guarding the cathouse when managing the secretarial pool.”
Dr. Uberstone, I presume?
Last Saturday, Connie and I took our first Uber ride—and what a ride it was. Our driver came to America from Iraq over ten years ago, but had only been driving two weeks for Uber. He typically drove past every stop at least once before realizing he missed it and turning around.
We’d probably still be in California had it not been for the other passenger he picked up (after driving past her, of course). She’d lived in LA for twenty years and proved to be an extremely gifted and talented navigator. Mr. Driver yakked non-stop from Hollywood to LAX, giving us his entire life story whether we wanted it or not. Connie said he reminded her of Leonard from “Much Nothing About Ado,” (see page 119 in The Perils of Heavy Thinking).
Upon arrival at terminal 4, I presented our navigator, now officially dubbed LA Woman, with a signed copy of Perils as a token of our appreciation for getting us to the airport in time to catch our flight.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the navigator who will safely direct you to the correct photo prompt is the unflappable TomTom Garmin 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.
Born in the 1950s, Gidget’s coming-of-age party occurred during a period of turbulent social change.
She loved the freedom of the open road, all-night parties, and smoking. God, how she loved to smoke.
As the years rolled by many of her friends settled down, took the slow road. Some even complained about her smoking. Said the fumes burned their eyes, made them cough. Gidget laughed from her rearview mirror. Losers.
One day her mechanic came with bad news. “Pistons busted, valves burned, and you’ve lost all compression. It’s the end of the road, Sister.”
Refusing to listen, Gidget buried her head in the sand.
Leave the Light On
Yes, it’s true. Connie and I are being flown to California to film a testimonial commercial for AARP Hartford Auto Insurance.
This unusual chain of events began as a result of our collision with a pedestrian deer on the evening of January 20, 2015. Even though the deer was clearly at fault (not crossing at a designated deer crossing, leaving the scene of a motor vehicle accident, and possibly drunk on fermented deer corn), we still had to bear the burden of having our car fixed.
Not long after our vehicle was repaired, I received an email from The Hartford asking if we would share a testimonial of our claims experience. I submitted the details of the incident and it was selected from a large group of entrants (possibly more than four) as a finalist in their contest.
After a series of emails, phone calls, and ogling our Christmas Card photos, they jumped at the chance to fly us to Hollywood and put us up in a twelve bedroom condo next door to the Drysdale place (rumor has it a family named Clampett used to live there).
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Producer/Director of epic mini-adventures is Cecilia B. DeMille 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 poor little peeve appeared scrawny and malnourished when Cain first brought him home. It was so cute to watch the two of them play, Cain stretching on tippy-toes to turn on every light in the house.
Our electric meter spun like a roulette wheel on steroids. When Father saw the utility bill he blew a fuse. After a brief family meeting, it was decided “Leave the Light On” had to go.
The president of a motel chain dispatched some fellow named Tom to pick up the peeve. Apparently, it’s worked out well for both of them. Tom and “Leave the Light On” have become inseparable.
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The 106 words above are a much-edited excerpt from “Peeves I Love to Pet,” which you can read in it’s entirety between the covers of The Perils of Heavy Thinking. For those of you abroad, this is a parody of a long-running series of Motel 6 ads in which their spokesman, Tom Bodett, promises, “We’ll Leave the Light On for You.”
Burning Down the House
Following the example set forth by our fearless leader, I went back to the archives of October 2012 for this relic. Sandra and a couple of others have read it, but for most of today’s FFF participants it will be a new journey down the path of crude, juvenile humor.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Program Director for syndicating ancient blog posts is Desilu 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.
Hop Sing was insulted when Ben mounted a fire extinguisher on the kitchen wall. The grease fire had been small and posed no real threat to safety.
For years they had harassed, teased, and threatened his pig-tail. Now, he carefully plotted his revenge.
Donning heavy gloves, he diced a handful of Chi-Chien pods and stirred them into the beef stew he’d prepared for supper. Before leaving, he coated a bucket of corn cobs with Chi-Chien oil to stock the family outhouse.
“Cartwrights fight fire in big house and little house too.” Hop Sing laughed. “Fire extinguisher not put out flame”
A Genetic Anomaly
Have you ever noticed that when the highway department builds a new street they can’t wait to dig a ditch across it? Last year they added a new, one-mile extension onto the Don Tyson Parkway. The asphalt barely had time to cool and harden before crews were busy cutting little paths across it at irregular intervals.
There’s no evidence to indicate they were linking natural gas, water, or a subterranean crossing for blind, endangered termites from one side of the street to the other. Rumor has it the road was just too damn smooth and did not contain the required number of bumps, dips, and potholes per mile to satisfy the minimum standards of city code.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Director of Transportation for compact stories is Henrietta Ford 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.
Singh never fit in. Growing up, she was often ostracized by other children because of her physical appearance and unusual grooming habits. The problem grew even worse when she entered puberty.
“Why am I so different?” she asked her mother.
“I met your father while working as a cook for a logging camp in Oregon,” replied Jinghau Lync. “We had a short, but torrid affair. He would not leave the mountains, and I could not stay. His people, the sasquatch, would not accept me.”
“So, that’s how I came to be . . . .”
“Yes, my child. You are Miss Singh Lync.”
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I apologize for not issuing a “groaner warning” in the intro of this week’s post. This story is the result of watching too many episodes of Fractured Fairy Tales and Aesop’s Fables on Bullwinkle & Rocky when I was a child. They’re right–TV really can warp your wind. There’s no telling what kind of stuff my grandchildren will write.
Mac’s Crash Diet
We have a new saying in our neighborhood. A day without rain is like . . . well, dry. We haven’t had a lot of those lately, but we haven’t grown webbed feet yet either.
Last week, Suzanne wrote about the monsoon season in India. According to my 7th grade Geography book that is supposed to be half-way around the world, not two miles down the road.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Coxswain of our rowboat of writers is I.B. Reddy 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.
Mac was famous for his voracious appetite.
Back in the old days, he’d devour entire villages and not put on a single pound. But once he reached middle-age, every chunky shopkeeper and donut-engorged policeman went straight to his waistline.
He auditioned for Jurassic World, hoping to land a meaty role he could really sink his teeth into.
“Sorry, Mac,” said the casting director. “You’re too wide for the screen.” Hollywood was looking for new, sleeker, futuristic-style monsters.
Frustrated, he started a new diet, limiting himself to one or two supermodels a week. Now, he can hide in Melissa McCarthy’s shadow.
Dewey Do-hee
Today, May 21st 2015, is the inaugural Red Nose Day. To those of you not up to speed on this occasion, it’s not an excuse to drink until your nose glows like a neon bulb, a job-fair opportunity at the North Pole, or a hay fever condition brought on by global warming.
Red Nose Day is a campaign dedicated to raising money for children and young people living in poverty by simply having fun and making people laugh (copied verbatim from rednoseday.org).
This is one cause that aligns perfectly with my values because I love having fun, making people laugh, and I’ve been wearing red hose . . . I mean, a red nose, long before Rudolph made it fashionable. I hope you’ll consider donating even though they snubbed me by not inviting me to perform at the big celebrity gala tonight in LA. ~ Remember, this about the kids—not my nose.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the ringmaster who keeps our cavalcade of clowns in check is Bo Jangles 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.
Difficulty discerning the lyrics of popular rhythm and blues anthem, “Louie Louie” sparked a 1964 FBI investigation regarding obscenity.
Evidence discovered inside a Prince Albert tobacco tin under the back seat of Perry Block’s 1952 Rambler attributes the song to Split-Lip Hayfield rather than Richard Berry (1955).
Hayfield was known to have a speech impediment, and Berry, having heard Split-Lip perform, likely misinterpreted the lyrics describing brother Dewey Hayfield’s battle with influenza.
Dewey, Do-hee, oh bro
He caught a cold
Lie-ly-ly-ly, in bed
Dewey, Do-hee, no maybe
He caught a cold
Three nights and days he cough and sneeze
blow his nose, cannot breathe
Yellow ball, of phlegm he swear
and send it flying through the air.
Alien Probe
Let me ask you a personal question. How much does your mood impact your writing? If you’re feeling happy, do you tend to write light-hearted stuff? When you’re sad or depressed do your prose reflect a morbid or dark attitude?
Normally, I’m a pretty easy going guy, but yesterday a guy named Worth pissed in my Wheaties. It took all my self-control to keep from responding to his email with something that would return to bite me in the butt. To alleviate the pressure rising in my boiler, I drafted a wonderfully sarcastic reply in which I assigned Worth the fitting middle name of Less. The unsent email will remain in my draft folder until I’ve reached the point where reading it no longer brings me joy and satisfaction. Then I will permanently delete it.
In the meantime, look for an antagonist named Worth in one of my future stories.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the moral compass who keeps our Raft of Writers on the high road is Northstar Nancy 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.
“You know, sometimes I feel sorry for those aliens in their UFOs”
“Why’s that, Clem?” Harold rolled a stem of wheat straw from one side of his mouth to the other and leaned against his pick-up.
“With 90% of Americans carrying cell phones, those poor bastards can’t even make a crop circle without someone trying to take their picture.”
“It must be like a bad case of hemorrhoids.”
“That’s why I built that giant suppository—to ease their pain.”
“Mighty thoughtful of you, Clem. Gonna build one for the Sasquatch too?”
“It’s on my list, Harold. It’s on my list.”
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check out my new compass
Bucket ‘O Ideas
People often ask me, “Where did you get a crazy idea like that?” I usually reply with some cock & bull explanation that I merely observe the world around me and the stories write themselves. Today, (against my own better judgment) I have decided to share my source of inspiration. Be forewarned that this act can only be performed by skilled professionals after years of training. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the one person who is always full of new ideas and challenging photo prompts is our hostess, Mother Goose 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.
“Corbin, see that bucket hanging on the fence?”
“Sure, Grandpa. What’s in it?”
“That’s where Grandpa gets the ideas for his stories.”
“Really? How does it work?”
Grandpa leaned over, stuck his ear under the spigot, turned the tap, and made a bubbling noise to indicate the invisible flow filling his brain. Once full, he straightened up, shook his head like a dog and said, “Umm, that’s a good one.”
“Wow, that’s cool. Is that where Grandma gets her ideas for all the projects she has for you?”
“Oh no, son. She has those delivered in a oversized tanker trunk.”
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*This post also from July 2012. It’s hard to believe I’ve been doing this so long, but I guess that’s what all addicts say.
Barcelona Bombers
Peter Coyote will be at the Fayetteville Public Library Friday night. Rumor has it he came to town in search of humor writing tips for his next book. At the urging of Pen-L Publishing and my cousin, JB Hogan (whose new book, Living Behind Time, is zooming up the charts), I have agreed to attend and meet Mr. Coyote.
I assume Peter is hoping to capitalize on the same type of success as achieved by Dave Barry after our meeting two years ago. Since that time, all of Dave’s new books have debuted on the Best Seller list and even his older, less funny, material has experienced a bump in sales. I wish I could take credit for that, but I’m just too humble.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Headmistress and author of the soon-to-be-released novel, Please Say Kaddish For Me, is Danielle Steele Brown 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.
Khalid and Ramzi surveyed the growing crowd from a second-story window.
“We must be patient,” said Khalid. “Timing is critical.”
Ramzi nodded in agreement and shifted from one foot to another, anxious to begin the mission.
“Today the victory will be ours.” Khalid puffed out his chest. “You will bring honor and glory to your family and redeem the death of your brother.”
“Momar was a good egg.” Anger fed the hatred gnawing at Ramzi’s craw.
“There, the bald one. He is your target. Make the infidel pay.”
“I will teach him to fear the name, Ramzi bin al-Pigeon.”
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 