Criminal Mimes

I have a blog buddy in NYC who often volunteers to usher at theaters. The primary perk being that she gets to see a lot of great performances (and occasionally a bad one) absolutely FREE. One of the reasons I enjoy her blog is that she shares her theater experience, including the interaction with obnoxious idiots, with her readers. She also takes us on excursions around the city to show us statues that pigeons have crapped on, fascinating architecture, and favorite local watering holes.

The last time I exposed myself to art, I was arrested for indecent exposure and destruction of public property. Who knew that a 300 yr. old marble statue could laugh? When I threw open my trench coat in front of the sculpture it cracked up—literally. I’m just glad the Mona Lisa wasn’t there. They’d still be trying to get that toothy grin off her face.

If you are new to Friday Flash Fictions, the curator of Literary Art is the esteemed  Claudette Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness mosey on over to her blog for instructions. After which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

Lucinda unlocked the back door and entered the kitchen. The furnishings had been rearranged and the oil lamps were burning. An eerie glow filled the room.

She took a quick inventory of her belongings. The only thing missing was a large invisible box she kept next to the refrigerator. Who would steal that?

The police dispatched Detective Lowry to investigate the crime. He checked for fingerprints. They must have worn gloves. After taking Lucinda’s statement he started to leave, then noticed a white smudge on the mirror. It was face-paint.

“Damn those mimes,” he muttered. “I should have known.”

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Horse Feather Boa

I have never had a positive experience with a horse. At age five, I was almost trampled by a pair of gigantic work horses. At twelve, an oversized Shetland tried to decapitate me by darting under low-hanging braches. And just last week, I had the most dramatic, near-death experience of my entire life.

I was sitting astraddle a gray mare when she decided to take off unexpectedly. I was thrown to the ground with my left foot entangled in the stirrup. With every beat of her thundering hooves my head banged off the pavement.

I screamed, “Whoa!,” and hollered for help, but she only ran faster. The Grim Reaper laughed and leaned on his scythe. Then, just as I was about to lose consciousness, the store manager came out and unplugged the machine. I swore right then and there, I’d never get on another horse.

This week’s photo prompt is courtesy of my good friend, Douglas MacIlroy. If you haven’t read his masterpiece relating to this picture you need to—I highly recommend it.  If you are new to Friday Flash Fictions, the leader of our cavalry squadron is Colonel Do-Write Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness mosey on over to her blog for instructions. After which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright Douglas MacIlroy
copyright Douglas MacIlroy

It’s time to water the humans.

They’re unsightly creatures with only two legs and no hooves or tail. In fact, their appearance is so hideous that I’m forced to cover my eyes when dealing with them.

We keep them behind a fence for their own protection. When allowed to run free, they often throw large leather appliances on our backs, strap them to our mid-sections, and insist we carry them around as if they were royalty.

For the most part, they’re more trouble than they’re worth. But occasionally they show up with some oats or an apple.

I appreciate that.

Dragonslayer

Last Tuesday night, I had the great privilege of reading one of my short stories on Tales From the South, a weekly public radio show syndicated by World Radio Network. This program airs around the globe making it available to more than 130 million listeners worldwide.

This piece was originally titled “My First Day of School.”  I hope you enjoy it.

Lily Livered Limbo

It is not uncommon for teenagers to experiment with alcohol before reaching the legal drinking age. In fact, many of the backwoods hillbillies I ran with skipped the test tube and beaker steps completely and went straight to the consumption phase in their quest for scientific knowledge.

*One note of caution; when conducting these experiments it’s a good idea to have one person remain sober to serve as the “control sample.” This breathing petri dish is responsible for documenting the behavioral changes among the test group and ensuring that all members of the panel make it home safely.

This week’s photo from Lora Mitchell shows just how far young people will go to satisfy their cravings for alcohol. If you are new to Friday Flash Fictions, the Dean of our College of Contributors is Professor Raphaella Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate, in this weekly exercise in madness, visit her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ after which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright Lora Mitchell
copyright Lora Mitchell

Underage drinking has reached epidemic proportions in today’s society. Teens can be very resourceful when acquiring alcohol.

“We’ve always kept our liquor cabinet locked,” said one mother. “When I found the bottles under Cindy’s bed, I questioned her, but she refused to reveal her sources. My husband set up a video camera. This is what we found.”

“I feel horrible,” said Cindy’s father. “Here I was blaming Hugo, the neighbor’s St. Bernard, when all along it was Lily sneaking booze to our kid. She betrayed our trust. It was like being stabbed in the back with a plant food spike.”

 

Distasteful Voyage

One of the first movies I watched in a theater was Fantastic Voyage, the 1966 sci-fi film in which a submarine and crew of scientists were shrank to microscopic size and injected into a neck artery for the purpose of destroying a blood clot. The special effects were primitive by today’s standards, but to an eleven year old boy who made poor grades in science, they were terrifyingly realistic.

When I saw this week’s photo prompt from Jennifer Pendergast, I knew it was time to transport my readers forward in time for a similar excursion inside the human body. If you are new to Friday Flash Fictions, the mad scientist in charge of the program is the ever-vigilant Dr.  Ruthenstein Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate, in this weekly exercise in madness, visit her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ after which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright Jennifer Pendergast
copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Captain’s log, June 14, 2025. The HMO Penetralia, has been dispatched to an asteroid galaxy directly above Uranus. In preparation of our arrival, Central Command directed a unit from the GoLytely division to flush the area of foreign debris.

Our orders are to engage and destroy all alien life-forms attempting to create settlements within the region. Thus far, we have only encountered token resistance from scattered, nomadic Polyps.

The ship stops unexpectedly.

“Captain to engine room. MacIlroy, what’s going on down there? We need more power.”

 “Apparently Captain,” said Mr. Block, “we are in the clutches of a giant tapeworm.”

My First Date

Welcome to another installment of Friday Flash Fiction.  This week’s thrilling episode is the work of guest blogger, Rachel Crofton, the internationally published author and creator of The Food Triangle, the critically acclaimed and scientifically balanced approach to weight loss.

Thank you. ~ When Russell came crawling on his elbows and knees, begging me to fill in for him, I knew something was up. He’d seen the Award Winning photo from Beth Carter (one of my favorite authors) and was having a brain fart. The old cuss started opening closet doors and drug out the skeleton of Delbert Leroy Watson (known as Junior), the first boy I went on a “real” date with. Sure, I’d held hands and claimed to be “going with” a boy or two, but had never been alone with one in his own car. Daddy wouldn’t let me date until I was fifteen. By then, the best of the crop had been picked over.  Junior was beanpole with greasy hair and a buck-tooth grin. But he had a car and ten bucks. That was all I needed to know.

If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our chaperone and person in charge of monitoring hanky-panky in these stories, is the incomparable Alexandra Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate, in this weekly exercise in madness, visit her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ after which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright Beth Carter
copyright Beth Carter

After a thirty-point inspection by my father, Junior escorted me to his car.

“It’s a convertible.” He grinned. “I made it myself.”

“Yes, it’s very . . . unique.”

We rumbled up College Avenue to the 71 Drive-In. The old lady in the ticket booth peered over her glasses and smacked her gum. “Five dollars,” she barked.

Junior bought popcorn, cokes, and some Dentyne. Half way through the movie Mr. Cinnamon Breath leaned over and kissed my cheek. I squirmed in the boat seat.

“These seats recline. We could lay down.”

I smiled. “Oops.” My icy coke flooded his lap.

Triple F Carpentry

One of the stories I currently have under construction is entitled “Triple F.”  Brian and Julie Snyder have a massive water leak and need a plumber—immediately. The good news is there’s a company nearby who can respond to their emergency. The bad new is its Triple F Plumbing.

If you look below the logo on their truck you’ll find the motto, “We’re slow, but we’re expensive.”

 After seeing this week’s photo prompt, the Triple F crew, Frank, Fido, and Phil, jumped at the opportunity to expand their home repair business by showing off their carpentry skills.

Our construction superintendant, and the person in charge of issuing building permits for Friday Flash Fiction, is Chief Inspector Rosanna Anna Danna Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate, in this weekly exercise in madness, visit her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ after which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright Janet Webb
copyright Janet Webb

Fido was exhausted. “Hey Phil, can we rest a minute after this next board?”

“I guess so. It’s been almost twenty minutes since our last break. Where’s Frank?”

“He’s stretched out under the porch. Been asleep for the last two hours.”

“Well, that’s better than drooling all over the homeowner’s wife—like he did yesterday.”

“She didn’t seem to mind. I think she liked the attention.”

“This plank looks a little short. Hand me those board stretchers, will ya?”

“What’s next, after we finish remodeling the house, Phil?”

“Tear down that ugly picket fence and build one that matches the place.”

*Frank is a yellow lab.

 

The Pickpocket

Happy VD and welcome to this week’s installment of Friday Flash Fiction.  Our travel guide is the lovely and talented, Ralphie Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate, in this weekly exercise in madness, visit her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ after which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

David Stewart photo

“That was my husband. The Greatest Thief of All-Time.”

“Why does his statue lean so far to one side?”

“Political adversaries labeled him a left wing extremist, when in fact he showed no party loyalty. He proposed higher taxes on the rich, the poor, the elderly, non-profit groups, small businesses, large corporations, internet sales, and children’s lemonade stands.”

“Wow, no wonder they erected a monument in his honor.”

“He was re-elected six times, but always claimed his greatest achievement was the caper he pulled on February 14, 1974.”

“What happened then?”

“That was the day he stole my heart.”

 

Le plane, le pain

Remember those thrilling days of yesteryear when you could actually sprint through an airport like O.J. Simpson in those Hertz commercials? This is before he’d killed anyone—except those who died from over exposure to poor acting in “Naked Gun.”

And who can forget that classic movie, “Airplane?” It’s still hard to believe the Academy passed over Lloyd Bridges for Best Supporting Actor. The writing was amazing. Remember this line, “I guess the foot’s on the other hand now, isn’t it, Kramer?” (-Striker)

Our flight attendant for this week’s journey across the friendly skies of Friday Flash Fiction is the lovely and talented, Ruth Ann Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate, in this weekly exercise in madness, visit her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ after which, scroll down to the blue I n links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright-Rich Voza
copyright-Rich Voza

 “It was supposed to be a joke.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny to me.”

“I never dreamed they’d take it that far.”

“What did you expect, Ken? They work for the government. They have no sense of humor. Now we’ve missed our plane.”

“But it was just a couple of metal ink pens.”

“A couple? They counted fifteen. One in every pocket and open seam of my overcoat. After the metal detector went off the third time, I knew I was in trouble.”

“I feel bad about the full-cavity search, Barb.”

“Don’t worry. When I’m able to straighten up, you’ll get yours.”

 

Disasterpiece Theater

Hello, I’m Louis Feinberg and welcome to Disasterpiece Theater. Our story this week is written by a little known, and even less cared about American author whose autobiography, “Dreams of Mediocrity” has become the poster-child for rejected short story manuscripts.

This week’s photo prompt is courtesy of Claire Fuller. Our unpaid sponsor, and a the gal with a smile as wide as Texas, is the lovely and talented, Rainbow Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate, in this weekly exercise in madness, visit her blog, http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ after which, scroll down to the blue In Links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.

copyright-claire-fuller
copyright-claire-fuller

His mother in-law declared, “He’s a chip off the old block.” 

 “A nut doesn’t fall far from the tree, but this one is certain to roll further down hill,” remarked a well-known New York art critic.

“If he’s striving for mediocrity, he needs to lower his expectations,” wrote another.

Negative reviews fanned the fire of determination. “With God as my witness, I will be average,” he declared.

Despite half-hearted efforts to improve, his work remained far below the norm.

Then, for no apparent reason, he was commissioned to sculpt the bust of a hypocritical politician.

Overnight, he became a sensation.

 

Mandie Hines Author

Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction

The Phantom Rem

Stories From Within

Lorna's Voice

Finding ways to make words sparkle

The Incoherent Ramblings Of A Moose

This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.

Sharing sarcasm, snark, and satire with the world...

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Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.

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I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.

TheDustSeason

All the Blogging That's Fit To Print

www.immodiumabuser.com

AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.

Dimitris Melicertes

I don't write, I touch without touching.

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An author's perspective of mystery and more.

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And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.