What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
California Scheming
The first cold front of the season moved into NW Arkansas this week. Connie dug our long-handles out of the dresser. I get to wear them Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and she gets ‘em Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday—wash day is on Monday. If the temperature drops any further, we may have to start wearing shoes.
Poor Connie’s been worrying day and night about her hens getting too cold. I suggested she knit each of them a sweater and some fuzzy mohair stocking for their little feet. She seems to think a couple of heat lamps is a better solution. Maybe so, but it doesn’t make much of a fashion statement.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the person who wrote from Kansas City to Hollywood with a laptop on her knee is Susannah Clementine 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.
Look! Up in the bird. It’s the sky. It’s a plane. It’s Dyslexia Man.
Slower than a mentally challenged sloth wading through molasses.
Weaker than single-ply bath tissue.
Unable to infuse short sentences with a single noun.
Yes, it’s Dyslexia Man, backwards visitor from the hills of Arkansas who came to Bloggywood with the power and ability to render the English language incomprehensible. Dyslexia Man, who can alter the meaning of common phrases, blend two-syllable words into inaudible gibberish. And who, disguised as Enos “Skin” Flint, half-witted blogger for Friday Flash Fiction, fights a never ending battle for humor, foolishness and the Redneck way.
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We can only hope our hero’s arch enemy and lifelong nemesis, Grammar Girl, will stop by to save us from the twisted vernacular and nonsensical jabbering of Dyslexia Man. Please hurry, Grammar Girl!
Time to Stop Digging
Well, I hope everyone got what they wanted for Halloween—not what they deserved.
Oh . . .? Connie just reminded me that Christmas is when people get gifts, not Halloween. Sorry, wrong holiday, my bad. These days they start promoting Christmas right after the Fourth of July so I have a hard time keeping up with when the event actually occurs.
I am thankful to be rid of political ads for a while. I’m much happier watching people walk around with no pants bragging about their Depends. Too bad the politicians weren’t wearing Depends over their mouth while they were spewing all that nasty filthiness about their opponents. That would have made ads worth watching.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the person who can help you get into the spirit of writing 100 word stories is Hanukkah Harriett 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.
Max and Cheryl were playing cards at Chip and Mindy’s house.
“Are you girls going shopping tomorrow?” asked Max.
“God, I hope not,” said Chip. “Mindy can’t leave home without spending at least two hundred dollars.”
“What?” The hair rose on the back of Mindy’s neck. “You know that’s not true. And I never buy anything over fifty dollars without asking your opinion.”
“Last week she came home with one of those ridiculous Christmas sweaters,” Chip continued. “Where’s she going to wear that? To a dog fight?”
“You said you loved it,” stammered Mindy.
“Probably to your funeral.” Cheryl grinned.
The Blind Date
Halloween is upon us and the question on everyone’s lips is, “What’s up with those ‘FUN SIZE’ candy bars?” For decades, we’ve been fed the age-old mantras of size matters and bigger is better. Looks like we’ve finally come full circle—less is now more.
This is great news for those who were on the far side of the galaxy when God was dishing out physical endowments. Parts of the anatomy that were once referred to as little, too short, or small can now be classified as FUN SIZE. Those of you who are single may want to update your on-line profile.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the leader of our Trick or Treat brigade is Howlin’ Wolf 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.
Apprehension gnawed at Judi as she approached the café.
“Steve’s a great guy who loves science,” her BFF and wanna-be matchmaker, Wanda, had said.
Someone bumped into Judi from behind.
“Oops, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” The man’s voice was deep and strong, yet friendly.
It’s my fault,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t be standing in the aisle.” The scent of his cologne wafted over her shoulder, teasing her senses.
“Are you looking for someone?”
“Yes. We’re supposed to meet here.”
“You must be Judi.” She turned, but saw no one.
Steve laughed. “Wanda didn’t tell me you were invisible. What a coincidence.”
The Shallow End of the Gene Pool
Well, I made it back from my four-day sabbatical in the wilderness. Unlike Jesus, I didn’t fast for forty days, but I was tempted by the Devil. He showed up with some beer and started ragging me about all the poor, hard-working Americans at the brewery who count on me for a paycheck.
Then he quoted Babe Ruth and said, “If you don’t drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams will be shattered. It’s better for you to drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about your liver.” How can you argue with logic like that?
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our emcee—beginning her third year as hostess with the mostest—is Alexis Trebeka 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.
*CJH WARNING – The post below contains crude, juvenile humor.
Arvel loved submarines. As a youngster, he used to lie on his back in the bathtub and holler, “Periscope up!”
He joined the navy right out middle-school, having completed each of the last three grades twice. Arvel had no problem treading water and could float like a piece of driftwood, even propelling himself along, providing his diet contained the optimum mixture of broccoli and beans.
The highlight of his military career came while stationed in New England. Arvel led a group of drunken sailors protesting higher beer taxes in what later became known as the famous Boston Pee Party.
Money Talks—an interview with Benjamin Franklin
I’m going to be away from my computer and the internet for a few days starting Friday afternoon, so I decided not to participate in Friday Flash Fiction this week. However, I do encourage you to check out the fine stories posted by those authors by clicking here.
This week, I had the pleasure interviewing Founding Father, noted author, inventor, printer, and much quoted world traveler, Benjamin Franklin.
WSF – Mr. Franklin, welcome to What’s so Funny? Our nation is going through a difficult economic period right now. You have a reputation for being very frugal. What advice do you have for the American people to help them cope with inflation and high unemployment?
BF – Thank you, Russell. I went through some tough times myself, especially as a young man. I wrote volumes of one-liners, proverbs if you will, on the importance of fiscal responsibility. People used to follow my advice and live comfortably. Today, too many Americans overextended themselves. They think the word “save” means buying at a reduced rate. One woman I knew went to so many shoe sales that she saved until she was broke.
WSF – So, we should all adhere to the “penny saved is a penny earned” adage, is that what you’re saying?
BF – Absolutely, except now, with the devaluation of our currency and the fact that it costs more than one cent to make a penny, I’m rephrasing the quotation to say, “a Benny saved is Benny earned.”
WSF – I know you have some interesting opinions regarding religion. Do you ever attend church?
BF – Occasionally I’ll visit a church, but you’ll never see my face in the offering plate. George will be stacked ten-deep in there, a few Abes, one or two Hamiltons, and maybe a Jackson on Easter. Ulysses and I stay parked firmly in the wallet until we get to Walmart or the liquor store.
WSF – Speaking of alcohol, I’ve seen the T-shirt with your quote “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”
BF – I was seriously misquoted on that one. People steal your words and twist them to make a few dollars for themselves. What I actually said was, “Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards, there it enters the roots of the vines, to be changed into wine, a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.” It means the same thing, but won’t fit on a T-shirt.
WSF – Much has been made of your affection for the ladies, especially during your time in France while raising funds to support the revolution.
BF – Yes, I’ve been labeled a womanizer when in fact I was more of a flirt and a tease. Women control 90% of the money and 100% of the sex. Raising money for a fledgling country that might fail was not easy. The only way to get the money was through the women. In times of war, men are called upon to make sacrifices for their country. I did what I had to do.
WSF – So, you were an eighteenth century James Bond?
BF – More of an Austin Powers actually. Why do you think my picture is on the one-hundred dollar bill?
WSF – Thank you, Mr. Franklin, for making time for this interview. I’m going to put you back in my wallet until we get to Walmart or the liquor store.
The Flop Factory
I must have been ten or eleven when I got my first record player. Dad rolled his eyes and prophesied, “That thing will be nothing but a constant expense for you.” He was right. My music addiction would become a costly habit. With albums running close to four bucks and singles at a dollar, I was forced to make hard decisions at the record bin. Which two new songs would I play over and over till the vinyl gave out?
Like every other kid who ever picked up a guitar, I dreamed of being a music star. After all, how hard could it be? If people with names like Mick, Ringo, and Ross Bagdasarian, Sr. could make it, why not Russell? Unfortunately, that dream sputtered and crashed before it ever got off the runway. Now, I dream of mediocrity and revel in the pure, unadulterated bliss of being an underachiever—proving that dreams can indeed come true—providing you have the right dream.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the fairy of sweet dreams who casts pixie-dust over all our prose is Olive Cattree 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.
“Wow, I’ve never been in a recording studio before. Have you released a lot of top-ten songs like that place in Detroit?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“But you do have state-of-the-art audio components and a bevy of the worlds’ greatest studio musicians, right?
“Well, not exactly.”
“I bet your mixing engineering is a master at over-dubbing to achieve that rich, full sound like those guys in New York.”
“Well, not exactly.”
“What are the chances of my record breaking into the Billboard Top 40?”
“Not good. This is the Flop Factory. Hitsville USA is the studio next door.”
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My apologies to Hertz car rentals – Well, not exactly.
Friday and Saturday I will be Ozark Creative Writers’ conference in Eureka Springs. This will slow down my response time on replying to comments and reading your posts, but I promise I’ll get to them as soon as possible.
Security Breech
Personally, I’m not a big fan of the CSI TV series. I must be in the minority because it seems they have developed an offering to cover every major city in the U.S. Crime is a glamorous thing, especially when done properly. That probably explains why we don’t have Redneck CSI.
I can just hear the chief investigator exclaiming, “Them four-wheeler tracks was made by a Yamaha Quadra Trak ATV with a Warn winch on the front and draggin’ a string crushed Pabst Blue Ribbon cans. My guess is the bride & groom had just left the wedding reception when the murder occurred. Some of them cans still got backwash in ‘em.”
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Charlie’s Angel, who always solves the case is Farrah Marple 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.
Fenton, Mo. – A fence-jumper was caught this week at the Friday Flash Fiction capital outside Kansas City. The perpetrator slipped past the first level of security and was almost to the Lavender Room when she tripped over an opened copy of This, That, and Sometimes the Other and became spellbound by the text.
Fictioneers from around the globe are calling Director of Security, W.M.Q. (Who Cut the) Colby for an explanation.
“Fortunately, Madam President wasn’t home at the time,” wheezed Colby. “None of the purple was missing, but we did find chips of violet on the intruder.
“I’ve ordered a full-cavity search.”
The Art of Whine
Several years ago, Connie and I volunteered to work an event called “The Art of Wine” at the Walton Arts Center. This is as close as it gets to a red-carpet, Hollywood-style evening in Northwest Arkansas where our most elite (and wealthiest) citizens turn out in droves to be seen in their Sunday best. I had always wanted to attend, but tickets are $150/head (to keep out the riffraff—like me).
The gentlemen dress most dapper and the ladies tend to wear staccato heels and evening gowns which leave little to the imagination. My partner was armed with a walkie-talkie to communicate with the rest of the crew. Many times during the evening we were called to respond to “Code Pink” emergencies indicating possible wardrobe malfunctions. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured, but my partner did suffer from severe eye strain for several days following the event.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our writing sommelier who knows the difference between vintage prose and bathroom graffiti is Juliette Gallo 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.
Prelude – In this week’s episode Jack Horner takes Goldilocks to dinner at the Fairy Tale Café.
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Waiter: Good evening Mr. Horner. We’ve reserved your usual table.
Goldilocks: But J-aack, it’s too dark in the cor-n-er.
Jack: Would you rather sit by the window?
Goldilocks: Nooo. The light from the street’s too ha-r-s-h.
Waiter: Very well. Here’s table near the center of the room. Would you like something to drink, or an appetizer?
Jack: Two cups of tea and some curds and whey.
Goldilocks: J-aack, you know I’m a-ller-gic to gluu-ten. I want fruit sal-ad.
The waiter returns with the appetizers and tea.
Goldilocks: This tea is too h-o-t.
Jack: Put some ice in it.
Goldilocks: I d-i-d. Now, it’s too c-o-ld.
Jack: Will you excuse me? I need to visit the men’s room.
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Epilogue – Little Jack Horner escaped through the door in the corner and never was
seen again.
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S’mores Security Systems
Do you ever have a really great idea pop into your head while you’re busy doing something else? That happened to me earlier this week. It was so brilliant I just knew I could remember it without writing it down—WRONG. I keep hoping and praying it’ll come back to me, but the harder I try the less I remember.
It had something to do with words that are really two separate words crammed together. Here’s a poor example; Playtex. Playtex, as one word, is a brand name for undergarments, but if you break it into two words you can make a sentence such as, “In the school’s western, Bobby portrayed an Indian and John got to play Tex.”
Help me out here. What words can you think of that can be broken into two parts?
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the wordsmith in charge of proper diction and grammar is Merriam Webster 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.
Eva Keebler had been a prison guard during the Great War. Forty years later she became head of security at the family-owned business outside Hollow Tree, Michigan.
“Nothing gets past Ma,” said her son, Ernest, the plant manager. “Competitors once tried tunneling into our factory to steal proprietary cookie formulas.
“Ma heard the mole gnawing his way through our O-SHIT system (Outdoor S’mores Hi-tech Invader Trap). She lifted one of the graham cracker pavers and chopped him to pieces with her hoe.
“Investigators never found the body, but we dropped the Reduced Fat claim on our products for a week or two.”
She Came In Through the Bathroom Window
It’s good to be back in Arkansas. I spend a good three hours Tuesday clicking the heels of my ruby work boots together and chanting, “There’s no place like Goshen, there’s no place like Goshen.” Finally, the most powerful wizard of US Airways put us in a little metal tube and shot us half-way across the continent to God’s country.
I want to thank everyone for the prayers, kind thoughts, and healing wishes sent our way during Connie’s surgery and recovery. The poor girl went through a lot and now she’s stuck with me as a primary caregiver. That alone should provide plenty of incentive and motivation to heal quickly.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the nurse in charge of administering weekly prompts is Clara Barton 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.
“Raul, what do you think of this new eye shadow?”
“It brings out the color in your eyes.”
“What about my hair, does it look all right?”
“You look ravishing, darling.”
“(sigh) Why do I even bother asking? You’d say I looked beautiful if my make-up was running and my hair looked like Phyllis Diller’s”
“What would you have me say? That you look like death warmed over?”
Thana smiled. “Trying to humor me, my love?”
“Well, I have seen some beautiful corpses.”
“It’s just so frustrating, trying to look presentable when you can’t see your reflection in a mirror.”
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I really wanted Raul to say, “Hey Thana, you have a piece of salad stuck between your fangs.” But that’s another story.
Oh, and about the title, it was the first thing that came to mind when I saw the photo and I couldn’t resist using it. Just imagine her flying through the window as a bat.
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What's So Funny? 