What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
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.”
Double Trouble
Chicago Cubs baseball Hall of Famer Ernie Banks was famous for saying, “It’s a great day for a ball game; let’s play two.” Another of his less famous quotes is, “You must try to generate happiness within yourself. If you aren’t happy in one place, chances are you won’t be happy anyplace.”
Well, my friends, it’s a great day for writing, so I wrote two. Get a double-dose of nonsense for one low price. Feel free to read one, both, or quit now while you’re still ahead.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the umpire who calls the prompts (without the benefit of instant replay) is Ria Cortesio Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. There’s no place that makes me happier than in the company of the friendly writers behind the blue, InLinkz frog.
——–The Opener ———
A team of French Canadians returned home this week after a three-month stay on the third moon of Venus, known as Holly’s Pimple.
Expedition leader, Jacque Cliché, describes the terrain. “From a distance the surface appears as smooth as a baby’s derriere, but let me assure you, it is as cold and forbidding as a mother-in-law’s heart.
The natives were not the brightest crayons in the box, nor was the food anything to write home about.”
“If I hear one more euphemism, simile, or metaphor,” said team member Vierre OffCourse, “I’ll choke the little booger.
Oh, shit. He’s got me doing it now.”
——– The Nightcap ———
“Let’s go on vacation, you said.
It’ll be fun, you said.
We can save money and stay with your buddy Doug. His place has a breathtaking view, you said.
So, I canceled my Caribbean cruise, spent eight hours wedged like a sardine in a metal tube, fantasizing of sandy beaches, aqua-blue water, Mai Tais with tiny umbrellas, hula dancers, and sexy Polynesian hunks catering to my every whim—and you bring me here?”
“Relax, Dear. Astronomers study all the wonders of heaven from this vantage point.”
“They’ll have a superb view of Uranus after I impale you on the telescope.”
C’mon, Baby, Light My Fire
After months of badgering by my beloved wife, I scheduled a return visit to the heart doctor for a check-up. Those of you who’ve read “The Incident” in The Perils of Heavy Thinking know all about my encounter with HPSS (Home Project Shock Syndrome) five years ago.
Dr. Boris Bogomilov is a rather short fellow who speaks good English, but with a heavy Russian accent. Fortunately, I’ve watch thousands of episodes of Rocky & Bullwinkle and have no problem understanding his lingo. Thus far, I’ve resisted the temptation to ask him to say, “Moose and Squirrel,” or if he could see Sarah Palin’s house from his childhood home in Russia.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Surgeon General who demands we bend over and cough out new stories each week is Dr. Michaela Quinn 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.
“Evan and I are having problems.” Michelle pursed her lips and stared out the window. “We never talk. It’s like living alone.”
“What happened?” Becca caught the glisten of tears in Michelle’s eyes.
“It’s that damned Smart phone. If he’s not on Facebook, it’s Twitter, or YouTube, or Amazon. I could be making love to another man right here on the sofa and he’d never even notice.”
“Sounds like a serious addiction. Where is he now?”
“Upstairs. I asked him to draw me a hot bath. Know what he said?”
“What?”
“Sure, sweetheart. I’ve got an App for that.”
Three Blind Mice
Mushroom season has finally arrived in the Ozarks. No, I’m not talking about the hallucinogenic variety, but the edible members Morchella family known as Morels. You do not need a license or gun to hunt mushrooms, but it does require a great deal of skill, tactical maneuvering, and keen eyesight.
While mushrooms are not very fast runners, they have a highly developed 6th sense of recognizing the presence of humans. I recommend face paint and camouflage clothing if you hope to sneak up on one in the wild. Morels are wily creatures, born with the natural ability to hide in plain sight. Once spotted, they tend to “play possum” in hopes that you will not have them over for dinner.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our emcee of orneriness is Mae Westburg Wisoff-Fields, who invites you to “Come up and write for us sometime.” 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.
Homeland Security arrested three men Wednesday, April 1st, after an attempted robbery at Moe’s Radio & TV Repair.
One of the suspects, Biff Scallywag, worked part-time at the repair shop. The other two assailants entered the store at approximately 10am, brandishing water pistols and demanding an assortment of tubes, capacitors, and resistors.
Police captured them beneath a second-story doorway where they had fallen on their loot. Authorities believe the trio planned to build a radio activated nuclear device with the stolen parts.
“I’m relieved to have them in custody,” said H.S. Director Eyesmella Fink. “We’ve been after the Hole-in-the-Head Gang for some time.”
Lonely Farts Club Band
April Fool’s Day is bearing down on us like a snow storm across the Sahara. If you’re like me, you know plenty of candidates who deserve a sound pranking. My all-time favorite prank dates back to the seventies. Kenny Young and I were eating sardines at lunch when a co-worker, Tim, started complaining about the odor. He went on and on about how nasty they were and chiding us about eating rotten fish.
After lunch, Kenny tucked the sardine tins under the front seat of Tim’s car. This was on a Friday afternoon in July. Tim drove home and parked the vehicle with the windows up all weekend. By Monday morning, the sardine remains had achieved a high state of putrefaction. Neither Tim, nor the car, was ever the same again. I’d love to hear the story of your favorite prank.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Duchess of Frivolity who coordinates the literary puppeteers is Kukla, Fran, & Ollie 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.
Dear Diary,
My audition with Col. Sparky’s Fife & Kazoo Band went poorly. Never have I witnessed a more dismal group of musicians.
The vocalist, a prudish woman in her fifties, appears to have been beaten at birth with an ugly stick. Her range can be defined as somewhere between a braying donkey and a cat in heat. She could not carry a tune if given a lorry for transportation.
The tuba player on my left insisted on elbowing my ribs with each toot of his oversized fart machine. My banjo could barely be heard above the din.
– Simon Cowell
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Here’s one of my favorite Far Side cartoons. Kudos to Gary Larsen. 
The Cesspool of Middle Age
Those of you who read this blog on a regular basis know I’m prone to steal inspiration from unlikely sources. A couple of weeks ago, I butchered a passage of Shakespeare. This week, I’m plagiarizing one of the great comedic minds of the 21st century—the 2nd funniest man east of the Mississippi—Perry Block.
Perry rates second only because Dave Barry wrote, “To Russell, my Idol,” inside my copy of his book. Normally, I don’t condone idol worship, but I’ve decided to make an exception in Dave’s case.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Chuckwagon Driver on the Fictioneer Trail is Abilene Annie 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.
“Frank, this place is creepy. Let’s turn around and go home.”
“Relax, Gladys, we’re almost there. You can’t expect to find the real Fountain of Youth at a rest stop on the freeway.”
“No, but this looks like a scene from Deliverance. I can’t believe that guy in Pennsylvania suckered you into buying this map. If he knew where the fountain was, why’d he look so damn old?”
“There it is, Gladys. That guy with a towel must be an attendant. Hey Mister, is this the Fountain of Youth?”
“Nah, it’s the Cesspool of Middle Age. I’m your host, Abe Vigoda.”
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This story idea stolen from, The Fabulous Fabled Fountain of Middle Age
Fallout
After scheduling three days of vacation, based upon a forecast of gorgeous weather, I’ve come to the conclusion that I missed my calling in life. I should’ve pursued a career in meteorology. Connie can verify that I’m only right one-third of the time (a generous estimate) and don’t know what I’m talking about then.
I have a booming voice and a commanding stage presence. So what if my girth blocks everything on the map from Tulsa to the Pacific Ocean. The weather in Phoenix never changes anyway. I’ll admit I’m not as young and attractive as Heidi Waggoner, but I promise to never send you out into the sunshine with a raincoat.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our own little ray of sunshine is the effervescent Bubbles McCall 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.
Local farmer, Abner Dilday, awoke Tuesday to find a snow-white blanket of powder covering his pasture.
“It looked like a heavy frost,” said Abner, “but I knowed better’n that. Hell, it’s mid-summer in Calhoun County.”
Neighbor, Gwen Juicyfruit, had her own theory. “It’s fairy dust. I saw hundreds of them partying last night, their wings sparkling under a Strawberry Moon.”
“She’s sees lots of things.” Abner’s finger spun circles beside his ear.
“It’s ash chewings. There’s been a rumbling from the mountain all week. Last night, Uncle Bob came home drunk on moonshine, causing Mouth of Aunt Helen to erupt.”
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 
