Russell Gayer, author speaker
I’ve always wanted to use the name Madge in a story. Thanks to Rochelle, and her intriguing photo, I finally get my chance. Some of you may remember Madge as the beautician who soaked her client’s fingers in Palmolive dishwashing detergent to make them… Continue Reading “Frosty the Fireball”
If restaurant table condiments could talk, what tales they would tell. Secrets of illicit lovers, confessions of criminals on the lam, and horror stories of pranksters who leave the salt lid unscrewed for the next diner. This week’s episode features a 100 word rant… Continue Reading “Does this decanter make me look fat?”
When I was in high school, my buddy’s father ran the bus station in Fayetteville. I would intentionally refer to it as Jefferson Lanes just to piss him off. “Lines, damn it! It’s Lines, not Lanes,” he would scream. Sometimes his dad would pay us… Continue Reading “Walmartian Tour, 2012”
I struggled to find anything funny in this week’s photo, so I went with my first impression. It’s a mix of Alfred Hitchcock and Mel Brooks. It won’t make you spew coffee through your nose, but you might look over your shoulder. I’ll be… Continue Reading “Running of the Spiders”
Following the example set forth by our fearless leader, I went back to the archives of October 2012 for this relic. Sandra and a couple of others have read it, but for most of today’s FFF participants it will be a new journey down the… Continue Reading “Burning Down the House”
I’m not at all knowledgeable when it comes to art. It wasn’t even available as a minor when I attended the University of Hard Knocks. The closest I came to collecting art was three Vargas girl pin-ups from 1973. Here’s my interpretation of this… Continue Reading “You Rock My World”
Back in days before “Cougar” meant something other than a large cat, The Rolling Stones recorded a song entitled, “The Spider and the Fly.” I’ve been humming it ever since I saw the prompt. I expect three or four Fictioneers to take that route,… Continue Reading “How I Learned to Stop Worrying . . . .”
The following story is true. Details have been altered to better fit the photo prompt and to spare you from a short drive you into a coma. Rest assured any clear liquid referred to in this story has been properly disposed of through a… Continue Reading “The Still-House Spring”
It’s been a rough week at the old grind. I’ve been more covered up than mosquito netting at a nudist camp. Changing to WordPress was easy enough. Now I have to learn how to use it. Right now, I feel kind of out of… Continue Reading “View from the Bottom”
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
Stories From Within
Finding ways to make words sparkle
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.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
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