What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
Best Laid Plans (of Clowns & Men)
I don’t normally continue a Friday Flash Fiction story from one week to the next, but after seeing the photo Wednesday afternoon, I realized there was no alternative. So here goes . . . .
Photo courtesy of Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/
Best Laid Plans (of Clowns & Men)
The interview went better than he could have ever dreamed. Ray Kroc was so intrigued by his marketing strategy proposal that he encouraged Ron to implement it at their busiest restaurant.
The focus would be on attracting and retaining young children as the primary customer base. Step one would be development of a small-portion meals containing a prize. Unfortunately, Ron relied on his degree in Entomology when selecting the contents.
Unsuspecting mothers shrieked in horror as live insects darted from their children’s lunch sacks. Angry complaints came pouring in.
Employees dubbed the highly unsuccessful and short-lived venture the ‘Grumpy Meal.’
Under the Rainbow
Welcome to Friday Flash Fiction. Photo courtesy of Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ Your suggestions for improvement are greatly appreciated. Be sure and leave a link to your story when you comment on this one. Thanks for stopping by
Under the Rainbow
Ron gazed upon the double rainbow with awe and admiration. A strange sensation swept over him, sending a tingle down his spine.
Unlike those who ran away to join the circus, he ran to escape it. His father was a juggler, his mother a trapeze artist.
Finding employment had been difficult. His unruly hair, goofy grin, and oversized feet proved to be unwelcome liabilities in the job market.
Sitting in the lobby with a dozen other applicants, Ron cast a wish upon the rainbows. The sky began to clear.
“Mr. McDonald,” said the receptionist, “Mr. Kroc will see you now.”
Moondance
I’m really looking forward to reading everyone’s entry to this week’s Friday Flash Fiction photo provided Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ When I first saw the photo, I imagined stories of Werewolves and other evil creatures going bump in the night. As might be expected, I took the road less traveled. As always, I look forward to your feedback. Thanks for stopping by.
Moondance
Moonbeams danced through the intermittent clouds drifting high above the scattered trees. Chad, Amy, Mark, and Veronica planned to spend the evening watching a meteor shower on the banks of Wildcat Creek. On the way, they stopped by One-Eyed Jack’s and picked up a quart of double-run shine.
The couples lay in the bed of Mark’s truck listening to Van Morrison and passing the fruit jar. Clouds obscured any view of meteors, but the liquid corn cast its own sparkle across the celestial canvas.
When the last drop was drained Chad hopped upon the pick-up cab, pulled down his pants and shouted, “Look everybody. It’s the moon over my Amy.”
Hole-in-the-Wall Gang
This week’s Friday Flash Fiction photo is provided by Mary Shipman by way of Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ Be sure and leave a link to your story when you comment on this one. I will be attending OWFI this Friday and Saturday and unable to reply to or visit other blogs until later in the weekend. As always, I look forward to your feedback, and thanks for stopping by.
Hole-in-the-Wall Gang
“Bang!” slammed the gavel.
“This meeting will come to order,” bellowed nine year old Chad Orton. “Brother Secretary, have we any unfinished business?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Wally Green lowered his chin and peered over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. “The broken plank on the south wall must be replaced. The hole permits cowans and eavesdroppers access to our secrets.”
“Very well. I appoint a committee of Steve Faubel, Billy Lang, and Rusty Hinson to secure lumber and repair the hole.
“Who will chair this group?”
“Faubel’s dad is a carpenter. Steve is hereby appointed Chairman of the Board committee.”
Bob-ware Prison
Welcome to Friday Flash Fiction. Photo courtesy of Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ be sure and leave a link to your story when you comment on this one. Thanks for stopping by
Bob-ware Prison
No one knew how long he’d been there before they found him. Even the coroner had difficulty determining the exact time of death. His report read “sometime on Friday.”
There were signs of a struggle. Locks of hair—torn from his head, chewed pieces of fingernail, coffee spills near the keyboard.
Friends and family gathered to grieve, wondering aloud if anything could have been said or done to prevent his untimely demise.
Everyone commented on the barb-wire halo draped over a fence post. Perhaps that was the key to unlocking the mystery. The words “bob-ware prison” scrawled beneath the prompt.
Call me in the Morning
Welcome to Friday Flash Fiction. This week’s offering is tribute to Harry Nilsson and Jack Webb. Photo courtesy of Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ be sure and leave a link to your story when you comment on this one. Thanks for stopping by
Call Me in the Morning
“Good morning, doctor. I’m Sergeant Friday, this is Officer Gannon. What seems to be the problem?”
“Some woman called, woke me up, complaining of a bellyache.”
“What made you suspicious of her activities?”
“She combined two substances and consumed them. What do you need from me?”
“Just the facts ma’am.”
“Her brother bought a coconut for a dime. She had another, paid it for a lime. She put the lime in the coconut and drank ‘em both up.”
“What did you tell her?”
“You’re such a silly woman. Call me in the morning and I’ll tell you what to do.”
Welcome to Friday Flash Fiction. This week’s offering should strike a chord with those of you living in the Razorback Nation. Photo courtesy of Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ be sure and leave a link to your story when you comment on this one. Thanks for stopping by.
Hole to Hide in
Have you been caught in a scandal? Did you publicly embarrass your employer and bring disgrace upon your family? Are you the butt of every new joke on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube?
If so, Hidey Hole Inc. has just the place for you. Our secluded underground apartments provide the privacy to wallow in self-pity while you struggle to create a new life. Amenities include comfortable park benches for crying, praying, or sleeping, and waist-high steel rails to drape over when expelling cheap wine.
To tour one of our apartments, tap on the manhole cover in front of Van Winkle Tunnel.
Chunky Dunkin’
Welcome to Friday Flash Fiction. Photo courtesy of Madison Woods http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ be sure and leave a link to your story when you comment on this one. And, Thanks for stopping by!
Chunky Dunkin’
“This is where it happened, Sheriff. Do you want me to stretch yellow crime tape between those trees and start the investigation?”
“No, I don’t think skinny dippin’ qualifies as a real crime, Barn.”
“Humph, there wasn’t anything skinny about those two. Clem Miller said they came running out of the brush, naked as jaybirds, and jumped cannonball-fashion right into the river. It created a tsunami that washed his truck off the low-water bridge and swept away three of Arthur Boatright’s cattle.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll have a talk with Aunt Bea. She needs to stop drinking moonshine with Otis.”
On the Reservation
Today’s Friday Flash Fiction post is my take on the photo prompt provided by Madison Woods. Visit her website http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/ and find links to other Friday Flash Fiction stories from authors around the globe. Please post the link to your story with your comment.
On the Reservation
Back in my younger days, I had the freedom to roam this country. Then I got involved in the civil rights movement in 1964. It wasn’t a popular stand, particularly in the south. Local officials drummed up false charges about an Apache running wild. The next thing I knew the Department of Indian affairs put me behind a fence.
I reached out to the National Association of Abused Chevy Pick-ups for help. They racked their pipes, tooted their horns, and blew a lot of hot air, but nothing changed.
This summer, I’ll open a casino and smoke-shop. Who’s laughing now?
Threats & Promises
Threats & Promises
I’ve really done it now.
Jesus hates me. I have no guts. Bad luck, or death, will strike at any moment. I have spurned great wealth, eternal happiness, and an all-expense-paid cruise to Las Vegas.
How, you ask, was I able to bring such trials and tribulation upon myself? It was easy. I failed to forward emails.
Yes, I’m the one who broke the chain. Because of my laziness, a cure for cancer has not been found, our troops are still on foreign soil, and your chance to become a millionaire through an email pyramid scheme went down the tubes.
They say confession is good for the soul. That may be true, but the profound and all-knowing “They” never had to deal with the fallout created by a breech in email etiquette measuring 7.9 on the Richter scale—the equivalent of cyber-space treason.
According to a recent poll, taken at a McDonald’s restroom in Fairfield County Ohio, 86% of you will delete me from your contact list. Another 12% will publicly denounce me on Facebook, Twitter, and/or a YouTube video. The 2% who are out for blood will attempt to infiltrate the witness protection program and locate my whereabouts.
These figures don’t include the 8% who were undecided, or the 22.6% that don’t give a damn. If you are among the .04% (thank you!) who will pray for my soul, please let Jesus know that I am not ashamed of Him and will be contacting Him soon to personally clear up any misperception.
I know these statistics add up to more than 100%, but there’s an acceptable margin of error when four complete strangers are held against their will in the handicap stall of a public restroom. I’m sure we would have gotten better data if the guy in the wheelchair hadn’t kept beating on the door, shouting profanities, and demanding to use the toilet.
If you don’t forward this to 27 people in the next 3 minutes, you will be plagued with boils, hemorrhoids, and an unpleasant visit from your Mother In-Law.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 