Friday Fictioneers: Life at the End of a Styrofoam Cup

Welcome Dear Readers and Friday Fictioneers!  Well tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and what better way to prepare a huge feast for a house full of turkey gobblers than to write a 100-word appetizer.

Here’s the  picture Rochelle over at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple  has provided for this week’s Firday Fictioneer shenanigans.

Copyright - Ted Strutz
Copyright – Ted Strutz

 Life on the End of a Styrofoam Cup

Captain Crimony steers the ferryboat with his boot and expertly sips his Irish coffee through a Styrofoam cup he holds between his teeth and plays solitaire.

Thus, Captain Crimony plows through the murky waters of Puget Sound like a willful child plows through a slab of wet cement, day in and day out.

One day, Captain Crimony hits an oil tanker.

Now, Captain Crimony sits on his couch, and expertly sips his Irish coffee in a Styrofoam cup he holds between his teeth, and plays solitaire.

Thus, he awaits  his disability checks, day in and day out.

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Friday Fictioneers: Newberry’s Ambition

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s Friday Fictioneer 100-word story, picture prompt.  I’m mighty glad to be participating this week, having had to sit out last week’s fun due to shoelacing difficulties.   As always, thank you to our hostess, Rochelle, at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple.

Copyright - Sean Fallon
Copyright – Sean Fallon

Newberry’s Ambition

Plastic men have ambitions too.  Newberry’s ambition was flight.

Newberry was originally meant to be an angel, but careless removal from his mold snapped off his wings.

So, when no one was looking, Newberry tried to achieve flight by flapping his arms.  One day his arms came unhinged, slipped to the floor through the dark-blue sleeves of his casual, button-down cardigan and collided with a pair of four-inch heels — launching the occupant therein airborn until she finally came to rest on the makeup counter two isles over.

Newberry had achieved flight!

Armless ergo handless, Newberry gave himself a mental thumbs up.

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

What the Scientists Are Thinking About

thylacines
A thy that hasn’t been cine in a long while.

Update on The Scientific Thylacine Expedition

Dr. Chris Clarke and Richard Freeman, a determined as all get out scientific researching duo from the Fortean Society, are, at this very moment, still wandering around the Australian outback looking and looking and looking for thylacines.  Blazing a trail through camels, brumbies, dogs and  dingoes — not to mention kangaroos, snakes and god only knows how many spiders, they will not give up until they find the extremely elusive thylacine, a creature that has been extremely elusive since it became extinct in the 1980’s.

After setting up camp in the Australian Outback, one of the remotest spots on planet earth, the researchers have failed to find a thylacine, but did manage to locate a Starbucks behind some Australian Outback bushes and used their Wifi to communicate that, although they haven’t found an actual thylacine as yet, they did manage to step in some suspicious looking dog droppings which the researchers dispatched to civilization for DNA testing via a Starbucks’ pastry delivery truck.

“The area is so damn remote,’ Freeman marveled while sipping his Grande, Iced, Sugar-Free, Vanilla Latte with Soy Milk,  “that I’d say there is a reasonable population of thylacines left.”

“In fact, I’d say there are more thylacines around the world than Javan rhinos.” Freeman scientifically concluded just after stepping in a big pile of Javan rhino droppings.

Christian Scientists
Only one out of four scientists considers himself cute.

Scientists Now Believe Our Universe Is Filled with More Habitable Planets Than They Previously Thought.

Erik Petigura, a graduate student at the University of California at Berkeley and the lead author of a paper published Monday in a scientific journal called Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences for Long-Winded Scientific Journal Titles, that earth-like planets having the temperature of a cup of tea are common around sun-like stars and went so far as to say, “the finding represents one great leap toward the possibility of life , including intelligent life in the universe.”  He failed to mention  how big a leap this finding was to the tea lovers everywhere and seemed to care less about his omission.

Sara Seager, an astrophysicist at MIT who was not directly involved in the new analysis but who was walking by the door while the scientists were talking about it — on her way to the break room for more tea —  pointed out to other scientists in the break room that “Earth-size doesn’t necessarily mean “Earth-like” but admitted the result will boost efforts to build telescopes that could obtain direct images on these planets.  A point that would have been well taken by the break-room scientists had they not been sipping their tea so loudly.

chihuaha wearing a saddle
Hi Ho Speedy Gonzales!

Scientists Warn that People Could be a Lot Shorter Tomorrow Than They Are Today.

A Team of Scientists from the University of Michigan have recently concluded after reading all about mammals in their Scientific Researcher’s Big Book of Mammals from 53 and 55 Billion Years Ago, that global warming is going to make people shorter.

“We are  confident that we’re seeing that one response to global warming in the past was a decrease in mammal body size.”  Lead Scientific Page-Turner, Philip Gingerich, stated while attempting to put a band-aid on his blistered index finger.

He then went on to state, “Bizarrely, fossil evidence from horses of the time indicated that they had reduced in size to something comparable to that of a small dog.”  He then proceeded to hop on the back of his Mexican Chihuahua to reenact a possible scenario from 53 billlion years ago,  but was immediately thrown off —  which he quickly blamed on the blister on his index finger.

“Over the next few thousand years following the climate’s recovery, however, the animals gradually returned to their normal size,” Philip Gingerich was immensely relieved to conclude before hobbling away.

* * *

And that concludes this Monday’s edition of What the Scientists are Thinking About, Dear Readers!

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: The 33rd Wisdom Tooth God

Welcome Dear Readers!  This weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge asks us to write 33 words about a god of our own devising that rules over the human realm with 32 other gods.

Buddhist cosmology tells of Trāyastriṃśa, or the Heaven of Thirty-Three gods, which rule over the human realm. This weekend we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own words about a god of your own devising that shares heaven with the other thirty-two gods. –

The Candidate Who Won the Position for 33rd Wisdom Tooth God

Position desired:  Wisdom Tooth God

Salary Desired:  10% Commission on Gross Tooth Fairy Revenue

Previous experience:  Baby Tooth – ten years

Reason for leaving:  String on doorknob

Professional Goals:  To one day be crowned

gmi760
“Hey look everybody! Here comes the new Wisdom Tooth God.”
“That guy? I’ve seen smarter cavities than him!”

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: The Dystopic World of the Angela Lansburyians

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge! This week we are asked to write a story from 33 to 333 words using the third definition of the word craft: skill in deceiving to gain an end.

The Dystopic World of The Angela Lansburyians.

Angela Lansbury’s smiling face stared up at Jessica as she slowly pushed the currency across the table to the Tarot Card reader.

“An Angela ten?  Most pay only five.  You are generous!  I haven’t seen one of these since before the Lansbury Cloning Wars!”

“Has it been that long?  Hail Angela!”  Jessica said. “Who can keep track of such things with the world in the state it is?

“Hail Angela.” The Tarot Card reader fingered her cards. “Tell me!  Today’s children have no respect for the old ways.  I saw a little boy throwing eggs on the Angela Shrine in the city square yesterday.”

Jessica gasped.

“Yes!  Right under the nose of his mother who was reading her Angela Lansbury Bible “Hail Angela!”

“Hail Angela!”Jessica echoed. “Can you spread out the Tarot cards on my behalf, Sister Fletcher?” Jessica leaned forward intently as the Tarot Card Reader plied her craft.  She closed her eyes and felt the secrets of the cards come into her fingertips before pulling one from the center of the deck.

The first card, the fool: Angela Lansbury walking towards a cliff. “A change is coming.”  Sister Fletcher proclaimed.

Then the second card: The High Priestess: Angela Lansbury seated on a thrown.  “She represents secrets.”

The Tarot Card reader then selected the last card: Death: Angela Lansbury on a white horse.  “Death is coming.  I’m so sorry . . .” she whispered.

Jessica searched the eyes of this sister clone, “Then if death is to come, it will be you.”  Jessica pulled her knife and stabbed the Tarot Card reader in the heart.

“Sorry Sister Fletcher,” Jessica said as she drug her body to the back room, “but death needed you today.” She heard the front door open.

Welcome Sister Fletcher!  Jessica said to the woman who was an identical image of herself. “Would you like a tarot card reading?”

Angela Lansbury’s smiling face stared up at her as the woman slowly pushed the currency across the table.

Angela Lansbury Bucks
Angela Lansbury Bucks

Until next time . . . I love you

Friday Fictioneers: Rodney Dangerfish

Welcome Dear Readers! It’s time Friday Fictioneers brought to us through the miracle of technology and the miracle of Rochell Wisoff Field’s blog Addicted to Purple. 

Go over and check out the picture, write a 100-word story about it and link up! You’ll never regret it.  It’s as easy as shooting fish in a barrel although we would NEVER actually do something like that! Would we?

And now for this week’s picture prompt:

Copy
Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

Rodney Dangerfish

It’s my birthday. But do any of these suckers care?  I don’t get no respect.

The other day I saw a friend of mine,  Buckminster.  I says hey, Buckminster, how’s it goin?  And he says hi Marla.  So I told him, my name’s not Marla, Marla’s my girlfriend.  He says, what a coincidence, she’s my girlfriend too!”

I don’t get no respect.

I told the Big Kahuna it was my birthday.  He says Happy Birthday, Marla.  I says thanks but my name’s not Marla, Marla’s my girlfriend but she has the same birthday.

Big Kahuna says what a coincidence.  She’s my girlfriend too.

Rodney Dangerfish.  He gets no respect.
Rodney Dangerfish. He gets no respect.

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Bob’s Face

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge.  This week we are asked to write a story between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of the word boo: 3 (verb) to show dislike or disapproval of someone or something by shouting “Boo” slowly –

Bob’s Face

“Boo!”    Gwen slowly pushed the word from her mouth and put on her glasses to follow along in the script as her boyfriend, Bob, acted out his lines.

“Boo?  But Gwen –I haven’t even recited the first line yet.”

“I know, Bob.  I wanted to get my criticism out of the way first thing.”

“Captain Splitz!  I wouldn’t go into the engine room if I were you.  Not without your bull whip!” Bob emoted passionately.

“Funny,” Gwen remarked.

“It’s not supposed to be funny.”

“No, I mean it’s funny I never noticed your ears wiggle when you talk, Bob.”

“What?”

“They do, Bob.  Here, I’ve got a mirror in my purse.”

“Gwen, please!  I don’t need to see my ears wiggle.”

“Fine.  If you don’t want to see your ears wiggle it’s no skin off my nose.”

“Where was I? Oh yes . . .  Captain Splitz!  I wouldn’t go into the engine room  if I were you!  Not without your—“

Gwen stifled a little giggle.

“Now what?”

“Nothing Bob, keep going.”

“Captain Splitz!  I wouldn’t go— what are you giggling about Gwen!”

“It’s your eyes, Bob.”

“What about them?”

“Funny.  I never realized until now they look like two ice-blue eggs, sunny-side up!”

“Gwen, can we please get back to the script?”

“Sure, you don’t want to  look at your weird eggy eyes, Bob, it’s fine by me.”

“Captain Splitz!  I wouldn’t go in there if I were you!  Not without your bull whip!” Bob looked up at Gwen.  “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to say anything about my mouth?  Or maybe you want to tell me how weird my hair looks?”

“Bob!  How can you say that?  I’m nothing if not supportive.  How dare you suggest otherwise! You are so lucky to have me as your girlfriend.”

You’re right.  I’m sorry Gwen.  Bob took a deep breath and began again.  “Captain Splitz!  I wouldn’t—”

“But your nose does kind of look like a piece of bacon, Bob.”

“Captain Splitz! I wouldn’t go into the engine room if I were you! Not without your bull whip!”

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Friday Fictioneers: The Day Beethoven Schlepped

Welcome Dear Readers!

It’s time for the  fabulousness of the Friday Fictioneers where bloggers from around the solar system are challenged to write a 100-word story prompted by the weekly picture hosted and posted by Rochelle Wisoff Fields over at Addicted to Purple.  This week’s picture was provided by Rochelle herself:

copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Day Beethoven Over Schlepped

Beethoven!

What now, Mozart?

You broke my piano!

But I was sleeping.

You broke it when you rolled over, Beethoven!  You’re a horrible roommate!

You’re no prize yourself, Zart.

I told you to call me Mozart!  It suits my artistic temperament better!

Really? Better than knucklehead?

That does it! Pack your symphonies and go move in with Schubert.

Ah come on!  You know that guy puts the phony in symphony.  Listen, I’ll buy us a new piano.

And the garbage?

I’m Beethoven, I don’t schlep.

Do I have to call Schubert?

Okay! Don’t get your fingers in a knot! I’m schlepping, I’m schlepping.

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Hey Lookee Me! I’m Gluten Free!

Welcome Welcome Dear Readers! This is a post about what happened when I decided to go gluten free.

I went to Fryes this weekend to buy a breadmaker.  I don’t really like Fryes much because I think they are over-priced and while they look like they have a lot of choices, it seems like they always only have one left of the thing I came to buy – which makes me suspicious that somebody bought it, took it home, found out there were missing parts, returned it, and the clerk taped it back up and put it back on the shelf.

But I bought it anyway because I’m too lazy to go to any other stores because I don’t know where they are located complicated by the fact that I don’t know what store it is that I need to go to.

So you see, it’s much simpler to just get whatever is on the shelf at Fryes.

Another thing I don’t like about Fryes is that the clerks, while they are polite and seem helpful, never really are helpful.  It usually goes something like this:

Clerk:  “May I help you?”

Me:  “Yes, I want to buy a breadmaker and there’s only one on the shelf. Are there anymore in the back?”

Clerk:  “I don’t know, I don’t think so.”

Me:  “Can you check?”

Clerk: “No, I’m sure there’s no more in the back.”

Me:  “Well, do you know if this last breadmaker on the shelf here is in a box that has been opened previously?”

Clerk:  “I don’t know.  Let me see.” The clerk looks at the box, “I don’t think so.  But you can always bring it back if it has.”

Then when you get in the checkout line, Fryes has this elaborate maze set up lined with snacks, books, electronics and As Seen on TV items to ponder. It makes you feel like a rat in a maze — a rat with a debit card in a maze.

When you get to the front of the line there is a clerk whose sole job is to tell you which register has a green light. When I went this weekend the guy told me the wrong number! I think he was just standing there blurting out numbers at random  52 . . . 17 . . . 43 . . . . (probably punctuated by thoughts such as I can’t believe I immigrated for this).

But you can’t really blame him for not putting his “all” into it since there is not much opportunity for promotion.  Unless, of course, he could somehow get on as the guy who reads off the lottery numbers on TV.

I stopped at the health food store on my way back from Fryes to get some gluten-free bread mix.  I’ve decided to go gluten-free which is why I bought the breadmaker.  I’m also trying to keep my diet dairy-free and sugar-free.  If I keep this up eventually I’ll be eating a totally food-free diet.

Anyway, this little visit to the health food store cost almost as much as the breadmaker did.  I guess health food stores operate under the assumption that, if you shop at their store and eat their healthy products, you will be less likely to have a heart attack when you see how much your health food purchase came to.

So I got home and poured in the gluten-free bread ingredients into the breadmaker (no parts missing btw . . . YAY!); plugged it in and it started making bread.

Making bread is scarier than making other baked goods because it has yeast in it which can make it do things on its own accord. Plus it’s in a machine that has been designed especially to help bread do what it does on its own accord; so you have to trust that it is going to do what it is supposed to do and not suddenly take on a life of its own and expand to fit the size of the kitchen or some other sci-fi thing like that.

But I am happy to report that I made the gluten-free bread without having to call my homeowner’s insurance agent, and it turned out exactly as it was supposed to turn out.

Which is apparently to taste just like cardboard only with crumbs.

But once I slathered it with butter and honey, it tasted fine.  So much for the dairy-free and sugar-free diet. But who cares because now I can say:

Hey lookee me!  I’m Gluten-Free!

Until next time . . . I love you

The California Ark Storm!

Welcome Dear Readers! Here’s a post I wrote awhile back.  I don’t remember how far back, but I’m pretty sure I wrote it within the last 100 years.

The California Ark Storm!

“There’s supposed to be a Storm to Remember coming this weekend!” my mailman warned.

Really!  I’d better get my camera out for this one.

Devestation caused by the storm to remember.

For the hearty souls who brave the threat of a major earthquake each and every day, Californians are surprisingly wimpy weather-wise.

For instance, rain is something out of which all California children must be kept.

What if they were outside, say, walking, say, and it started raining actual raindrops?  They are wet you know, and they are hurtling to earth at death-defying speeds.

Yes, it’s true the average California child has lived through six earthquakes so far, but that’s nothing when you compare it to getting slapped in the face with a bullet of H20.   Every Californian knows a thing like that could cause permanent nerve damage!

Californians would hate Seattle

In Seattle, where the sun shines so rarely it’s often mistaken for Venus, it’s just the opposite.

Weather exists only as degrees of dampness.  So Seattle-ites whip out their sunglasses the instant the sun makes an appearance.  They are quick on the draw, these Damp People.

You’ll be driving along on the Seattle freeway when suddenly the sun appears, ufo-like, from behind a rain-soaked, humidity-filled fog bank.  You quickly glance over at the cars on either side of you — and what do you know?  The drivers already have on their sunglasses.  Huh?  Why do they even own sunglasses?    Five seconds later, when the sun dashes behind a 120-percent-chance-of-rain cloud, all sunglasses are quickly removed, twirled between thumb and forefinger and expertly returned to holsters.

Now Weatherians (new word I just made up, feel free to spread it around but be sure to capitalize it) gleefully tell us that California is long overdue for a super storm called the Ark Storm.  Experts (people who hang out at Ark Storm scenario summits) tell us that the last Ark Storm hit California in 1861 causing a flood of such epic proportions it wiped out the entire 1861 California Cattle Industry estimated at the time to be 7 cows, 2 chickens and a pig.

Devastation of the 1861 Ark Storm!

Some experts who were actually listening at the Ark Storm Scenario Summit remind us that two really Stormy Storms hit Northern California in 1986 and 1997.


Devastation caused by the storm of 1986 and 1997.

Even though I was unlucky enough to be living in Northern California during both of these horrific storms, luckily I didn’t notice them.

But being a True California, I’m just sure I drove my kids to school both those days.

Until next time . . . I love you

Thanksgiving in Hell — Sometime in the Near Future

Welcome Dear Readers to this weekend’s Trifecta writing challenge.  Today we are challenged to write 33 about this Rolling Stones video of the song: Sympathy for the Devil

Thanksgiving in Hell — Sometime in the Near Future

Mr. and Mrs. Devil and their kids, Deviled-Egg, and Deviled-Ham, piled into their Chevy Corvair.  They were off to Grandma Evil’s for a delicious Thanksgiving dinner of Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones!

Until next time . . . I love you

Friday Fictioneers: Brunhilda’s Amphitheater

Welcome Dear Readers to Friday Ficitoneers where writers are challenged to write a 100-word story about the picture that’s posted each week .  

Here’s this week’s picture:

Copyright Sandra Crook
Copyright Sandra Crook

Brunhilda’s Amphitheater 

 With an amphitheater in her backyard, Brunhilda lacked for nada

She’d climb to the top of the stairs each day and eat an enchilada

With an amphitheater in her backyard, Brunhilda bought a slinky

She’d let it go at the top of the stairs then watch til it got dinky

With an amphitheater in her backyard, Brunhilda had the audacity

For giving parties of 5,000 or more because, hey! She had the capacity

With an amphitheater in her backyard, Brunhilda thanked the gods

Because having an amphitheater so close, I mean really now — what are the odds?

This week’s picture was brought to us via the courtesy of Sandra Crook’s camera. Thank you Sandra!   And, of course, thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields over at Addicted to Purple who sets up this super-fun challenges for everyone each week.

 Until next time  . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Creature Comfort Food

This weekends 33-word Trifecta Challenge is to look at the picture and write about what happens next:

swamp_illustration

Creature Comfort Food 

What’s for dinner mommy?

Creature from the Black Lagoon stir fry. 

I hate creature from the Black Lagoon stir fry, why can’t daddy ever go fishing in a lake.

Because Daddy hates fish.

Unitl next time . . . I love you

 

 

 

 

 

33-Word Trifecta Challenge: The Movie Set

Welcome Dear Readers to this weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge where we are asked to write to about famous trios.

One Day on the Movie Set

This scene needs pigs, who hired the bears?

The mice, sir.

Are they, blind?

Yes.

Who hired blind casting directors?

Three Musketeers, sir. 

Bring them here!

Can’t.

Why?

Eaten by the bears, sir.

Juvenile-Illustration-The-Three-Bears-By-Leo-Tolstoy-8-144x150
“Hey! Save some fluffy nugget center for your old man, will ya?”

Until next time  . . . I love you

 

 

The Lighter Side of Gangrene

Dear Readers!  Where is the time going?  I get up, I have my coffee and viola! Noon!

Today I’m only posting  this little limerick from the archives!  Please enjoy it! (I’ll feel guilty if you don’t!)

Doreen

There once was a girl named Doreen

Who was as tall as a mutant string bean

Even when kneeling

Her head hit the ceiling

And now both her ears have gangrene

Until next time . . . I love you