What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
Your keys, please
The photo below brought to mind the famous rhetorical question;
“If a man says something—and there’s no woman around to hear him—is he still wrong?”
Married with Children was a popular TV show about the time our children were entering puberty. I learned two important things from this program;
1.) How to sit on a couch with one hand stuck half-way into your pants
2.) How to whine the name P-e-e-e-g-g-g into a three syllable word.
In this week’s episode Kelly gets a job as a parking valet.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the construction supervisor for our weekly cabin of tall tales is the legendary lumberjack Paula Bunyan Wisoff-Fields, or “PB” as we affectionately call her. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
“How was your first day at work, Pumpkin?”
“Oh, Daddy, I’m exhausted. This job is way harder than I thought it’d be.” Kelly tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and collapsed on the sofa.
“What happened?”
“First, we spent four hours in a classroom listening to some idiot ramble about customer service. He kept saying, ‘If you want good tips, do exactly what the customer tells you.’
Then, my first client stiffed me and started screaming at my boss. I don’t know why he was so mad.
He was the one who told me to park under a shade tree.”
Street Corner Talkin’
When I saw this week’s photo prompt two things immediately popped into my mind—dogs marking their territory on a fire hydrant, and the album “Street Corner Talkin” by Savoy Brown.
I decided to run the first idea past our black lab, Buster. He put his paws over his face and growled something about pet-profiling then threatened to report me to AARP (American Association of Retired Pets).
After seeing what happened to Paula Deen, and in fear of being banned from Pet Smart for life, I decided to go with the 2nd option. Still, with any luck, today’s offering is bound to offend someone somewhere.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Engineer in charge of booking studio time, and a Top Ten literary artist on everyone’s chart, is the “Belton Belle” Ramona Jo Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
“Beat it!” he shouted.
The girl looked left and right. They were alone on the sidewalk. “Are you talking to me?” she asked in disbelief.
“Bingo, sister. You may be dumb, but at least you’re not deaf. Now, move along. This is MY corner.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. If you want to work the street in this town find another corner. This one’s taken.”
“Oh, I see, Mr. Snooty. And what makes this corner so special?”
“See the sign above that shop.”
“The Blue Hair Salon, so . . . .”
“This is where cougars come to play.”
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BTW – I’m always open to constructive criticism. If you’ve got suggestions how I can improve my writing I’d love to hear ’em.
Polli-Nation
I used to work with a guy who was born and raised in Puerto Rico. He told me the hardest thing about learning the English language was the metaphors and euphemisms we Americans use in everyday conversation. When I mentioned that I was going to “pitch a loaf” he wrongly assumed it had something to do with bread.
Today’s story features a disagreement which threatens to dissolve a long-standing relationship between one of nature’s most famous couples.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Queen Bee of our hive is the famous therapist Dr. Ruth “Whadda talkin’ bout” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
We interrupt normal blog programing to bring you the latest in the Sex Education labor strike.
Negotiations have broken down. The Bees are forming picket lines outside Bird headquarters to protest their stand on In vitro fertilization.
“This is an unnatural act and flies in the face of everything we’ve taught young people for generations,” buzzed Bee spokesperson, Honie.
“There’s nothing wrong with an egg outside the body,” countered Cindy Cardinal. “Why should it matter where fertilization takes place?”
In response, angry bees are constructing a wall of hexagonal wax cells to launch armed drones across enemy lines.
Film at eleven.
The Round-up
I spent yesterday in Indian country (Oklahoma) and barely escaped with my scalp (you have to be on your toes in those casinos). Today, I feel like stomping the dust off my boots, busting through the bat-wing doors of my favorite watering hole, and sucking down a frosty mug of ice cold sarsaparilla.
In this week’s story a daring young man attempts to herd a valuable cash-crop through the badlands in search of fame and fortune.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Trail Boss in charge of this weekly wagon train is the straight shooting Rowdy Yatestein Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
Elton couldn’t believe his eyes. The lush valley below was overflowing with cotton candy, the largest herd he’d ever seen. Dollar signs flashed before his eyes as he contemplated how to get it to market.
The shortest route to the railroad was through Indian Territory. It would take a team of veteran drovers to get the herd through the high-walled canyons, ford swollen streams, and across the wind-blown prairie. They were sure to encounter some sticky situations, especially with the Sweetoothi tribe now on the warpath.
It would take a special breed of cowboy. Where would he find such men?
Bad bike, baaad!
Connie and got back from visiting Dr. Shlomo Raz at UCLA Medical Center late yesterday afternoon (my excuse for being late). I offered to donate my brain to medical science, but they politely declined, insisting they only accept brains capable of forming complete thoughts.
We’re going back for a longer stay in December and I’m taking my overalls. If you’re a Hollywood producer reading this, you might consider signing me for a new reality show, “An Arky in Westwood,” and we can film a few episodes while I’m in town.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Biker Mama in charge of this weekly Tour-de-blog is the fast riding Alcea “Hollyhock” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
“Is this the defendant?” asked Judge Burns.
“Yes, your honor,” replied Bailiff Smithers.
“Sir, you stand before the court charged with assault. The plaintiff states that on the afternoon of June 14th, in an act of premeditated malice, you swerved to strike a large boulder, causing the plaintiff to become airborne. Upon contacting the ground, he suffered contusions to the face, lacerations to both wrists, and a fractured left tibia.
How do you plead?
(silence)
“It is my order that you be strapped to the largest tree in the town square and sprayed with dog urine.
Bailiff, release the hounds!”
Two in the Bush
I’d like to begin this week’s post by wishing my fellow Americans “Happy Independence Day!” We are blessed to live in a nation where people can openly express their views (unless they’re politically incorrect) without fear of retribution.
If you’ve watched television more than 30 minutes in the past month, you know that sex is very important to Americans, especially our elected officials who have an extremely tough time keeping their hands out of other people’s pants. Thanks to medical technology, seniors can activate their own “stimulus package” well into their golden years. Uncle Sam had this to say about his sexual prowess on the eve of this 237th birthday, “I may not be as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.”
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Grand Marshall of our parade is the fabulous Niagara Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
Harlan Hawk III never let a little thing like concern for the environment stand between him and money. His appreciation for nature was based upon the number of dollars he could harvest by raping the landscape of its natural resources.
Recently, a couple of “tree huggers” began crying foul, publicly accusing him of destroying the red-iron forests of the Northwest. Robin and Phoebe Warbler even held a sit-in on one of the giant behemoths to draw media attention.
Harlan wasn’t concerned. He had Senator Carrion Crow tucked in his pocket, giving him an advantage over those two in the bush.
Distasteful Voyage Revisited
Last week, I received an interesting gift from fellow Fictioneer Kent Bonham. He created an audio track of my flash fiction story, Distasteful Voyage, based on a photo by Jennifer Pendergast.
I thought you might enjoy this brief, but thrilling journey through the lower tract.
Magic Bus
Welcome to the Rachel Crofton bus tour for the highly medicated. If you’ve ever taught a teenager to drive, you know the harrowing experiences that happen when riding with someone who has a wandering eye and an anvil for a right foot—in this case, Rachel’s daughter, Regina.
Your choices are;
a.) Keep your eyes clamped shut and a death grip on the “Oh Shit!” handle
b.) Take a fistful of sedatives 20 minutes before entering the vehicle
Today’s story is an excerpt from Rachel’s previously published essay, “Dodging Miss Daisy.” For those medicated enough to read the entire story, it can be found here.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the lady responsible for keeping our bus between the ditches is the ever capable Alice Kramden Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF author seating chart click here.
. . . And away we go!
Training starts with basic left-knee steering, then more complicated maneuvers are added as the student gains confidence in hands-free operation of the vehicle.
To graduate, attendees must be able to safely navigate the freeway at seventy-miles-per-hour, simultaneously text their best friend with one hand, apply mascara with the other, and scream at unruly children in the back seat.
Upon completion, the girls receive a “Beauty of the Boulevard” ankle bracelet and a gift certificate for Maybelline products.
I couldn’t be prouder of that girl, but there’s no way I’m getting in a car with her behind the wheel.
Double Indemnity
I’ve often wondered how often palace guards have to do anything other stand perfectly still in their freshly pressed uniforms and superbly polished boots. What happens if their crotch itches? Do they allow them to wear iPods these days?
Once Connie wins the lottery, I’ll see if she’ll let me hire two or three of these guards to post on the front porch to keep the riffraff out. Hopefully, they’ll still let me in, especially if I promise to let them scratch when the urge hits ’em.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Queen Mother of the band of vagabonds is the illustrious Elizabeth “Maiden of Missouri” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view FFF author leader board click here.
Phillip was nervous about the new job. It was a highly visible position, though most passers-by saw only the uniform, not the person.
His benefactors promised safety and security, but that was BS (before surgery). When Phyllis Stanton testified before the Grand Jury, death threats arrived daily. They promised to track her to the ends of the earth.
A female tourist came by three days in a row, each time stopping to study Phillip and take photos from different angles. Sweat poured from under his helmet. What if the witness protection program failed?
She leaned forward and whispered in a deep, bass voice, “You’re kinda cute. I think we had the same doctor.”
Double Bogey on the Back 9
One of my all-time favorite Far Side cartoons featured a piano player in a western saloon. Seeing the villain was about to stroll through the bat-wing doors, he announced, “Uh-oh, bad guy, switch to minor key.”
If I’d listened to Gary Larson, this week’s story would have been written in F-flat minor (even though there’s no such key as F-flat minor), but who am I to take advice from a comic genius.
Instead, I kept rotating the photo at 90 degree angles trying to get feel for what the individual in the picture might be trying to accomplish. Judging from the garb and dialect (muffled cursing), I deemed there was only one sub-species of the human race that could possibly get himself in such a predicament.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the host of this weekly blogging tournament is Susie “Sandtrap” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view FFF author leader board click here.
Myron Muldoon Mackintosh was prone to getting in sticky situations. Even though he rarely made the cut, he was one of the most popular players on the tour.
His antics off the course were legendary. The supermarket gossips rags documented every aspect of his private life. A recent cover photo of him cavorting with the Doublemint Twins, dressed in red and green plaid bikinis, had created a rift with his sponsor.
“Mackintosh, this is your last chance,” declared the Minnesota-based, manufacturing giant.
At the U.S. Open, he revolutionized golf by inventing the piano shot, now known as the Flying 3M.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 