What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
Shadowbox Dancing
My fellow Fictioneer, Douglas MacIlroy, dubbed this week’s prompt “a writer’s paradise.” Id’ have to agree. If you can’t find something to write about from all the little cubbies in this picture (or outside the box itself), you should probably consider a different creative outlet.
The thing that struck me about the photo was the diversity that each piece brings to the collection as a whole. Every piece has its own personal story. They may be heartbreaking, spooky, funny, inspirational, or have historical significance.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the curator in charge of this museum of creativity is Prof. Tatum 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 “Collection of Authors” click here.
This year’s class picture was the froggiest of them all. Mark looked like a tadpole, Wanda a Hershey bar, and Alan a ventriloquist’s dummy. Their teacher, Mrs. Melba Dunlop-Silverstein, stood on the bottom step at the far right of the group photo. Look closely and you’ll see the end of a wooden ruler sticking out from behind her back.
The class clowns were in top form. Lester had his index finger stuck up his nose to the 2nd joint while Ronnie made an elaborate show of pulling his underwear out of his crack.
The chalkboard sign read Creative Writing 2013.
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*This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to known bloggers is purely coincidental.
blunder grill
Evidently, the average American television viewer is enthralled by all things Redneck. The satellite airwaves are filled with reality shows of southern folks wrestlin’ gators, whittling duck calls, and surviving months in the wilderness on two cans of potted meat, eight ounce of grits, and a fifth of rot-gut whiskey.
Those with necks of other colors (including blue-bloods) are fascinated by the determination, ingenuity, and bathing habits of the simple-minded Redneck. Have you ever wondered why there are no shows featuring Yankees doing dumb stuff? That’s because they lack the creative flair and daredevil attitude to start a sentence with, “Hold my beer while I . . .”
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the head chef in charge of menu creations is Sunny-Side -Up 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 “Menu of Authors” click here.
Bubba got elected to congress on the Aginner ticket, vowing to oppose any legislation involving change.
Celeste came to Washington in pursuit of wealth. She was young, beautiful, educated, and most of all—willing. Her part-time job at the Union Station gift shop paid only a pittance, but provided exposure to potential Sugar Daddies.
Two bites into his Cowboy Burger, Bubba saw a young woman clutch her throat, gasping for air. He rushed over and applied the famous hind-lick maneuver. An olive shot from the throat of the startled girl.
It was a life changing event for both of them.
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With college football season starting this weekend you’ll need plenty of food.
Here’s something that’s sure to be a hit at your tailgate party.
Not-so-White Castle
I have to confess, I’ve have not read “Fifty Shades of Grey,” but I did win flash fiction contest based on the title “Fifty Sheds of Grey.” The story was set in a one-hole outhouse and the poor tenant was bemoaning the fact that he’d eaten too many jalapenos the night before. It wasn’t the kind of story that would garner a Pulitzer Prize, but it did earn $25 and twelve months of braggin’ rights.
Most of us know from personal experience that not everything in life is Black or White, Good or Evil, and last but certainly not least, Sweet or Sour. Somethings fall into that sinkhole beneath the middle of the bell-shaped curve under the category of bland, boring, and downright forgettable. Such is the case with today’s delicacy.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the tour guide for our weekly excursion into the mystic is the famous trapeze artist who ran away from the circus to become a writer, Florenda 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.
“This is where it all began.” The tour guide’s voice flat and cold as the stone walls surrounding them.
Alice squeezed Marvin’s hand and ducked cobwebs as they navigated the dimly lit passageway leading deep into the bowels of the castle.
“I can’t believe you wanted to come here.”
“Relax, the brochure said they’ve only lost three guests in twenty years.”
Filing into a large room filled with boiling cauldrons, the group covered their noses to ward off the rising effluvia.
A man wearing a chef’s hat held up a small hamburger.
Somehow the Grey Castle ‘Spyder’ sandwich never caught on.
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Feel free to offer constructive criticism.
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.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 