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Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Toilet Bowl Operation

No this story is not about Delta Airlines, even though they too are a "toilet bowl operation." I'm participating in Shelly's Crazy Alternative Reality over at The Life of a Novice Writer. She's presented four pictures and asked us to write a one hundred word story about one or all of them. I originally thought the assignment was 300 words and have been whittling my writing down but fail. I'm at 140 and have removed most of the detail to give you a bare bones story. I'm going to leave it as is, sorry Shelly.





The truck’s three wheels skirted around a cactus while sheep carrying the corner with the missing wheel kept it from scraping sand. Aries is rising covered the back window.

The truck halted. Bolts and cogs shot into the sand.

A cowboy carrying a rotary phone stepped out of his truck. “Don’t pull my truck apart!”

The sheep’s eyebrows narrowed as they glared at the cowboy.

“The brochure says, “Sheep is mild.” You buckin’ requests?”
The sheep raced away, so the cowboy dialed the phone.

“What kinda toilet bowl operation you runnin’? My sheep took off.” The cowboy nodded. “Fine. Send me twins.”

He tossed the phone into his truck.

Two identical women wearing bikinis approached the cowboy.

“You gonna run my truck, Sweet-cheeks?”

“We’re gonna drive while you run.” The girl’s smacked a sticker over the other one: Gemini Rules. 

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Yours: That's Succinctly Yours - The Old Chair

Grandma Goulash's Weekend Writer's Retreat

I've been challenged to write about this chair. Well, okay. I've written about sea shells, dragons, and dandruff, so surely I can come up with a word or two about a chair--from the chair's point of view. Why not?

What are you looking at? Oh, yeah. I forgot that I have gorgeous scenery out my window. Not that I ever get to look at it. Behind is my magic word. The sea is behind me. You think I ever get to hear the movement of the water or feel the wind against my velvet. All I get is a smelly behind on top of me, and these people aren't lightweights either. In fact, my velvet used to be yellow but I became so flustered from the fat gal, that I turned as orange as an Oompa Loompa. Yet I'm supposed to look pretty and pretend that I don't have the worst job in the house. 


Flush! Err, uh, correction--the second worst job in the house.

a meme for writers of all kinds 

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