“Hi, Cheryl, it’s me Ethel.”
“Okay, what do you want?”
“Cheryl, why do you always think I want something?”
“Because you always do, Ethel. I can tell by the perky way you say ‘Hi, Cheryl’. So, cut to the chase, what is it?”
“Well be that way, but since you ask, you have a snow shovel don’t you?”
“I do, and so do you. You got one when you worked at Wal-Mart, remember?”
“I can’t find it, I think I let someone borrow it.”
“That’s why I have mine, I don’t lend. Why?”
“My walk, could you shovel it.”
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Some 100 Word Flash Fiction based on the photo of Dale Rogerson’s front yard she sent Rochelle for this week’s story prompt. Do drop by Friday Fictioneers if you want to write a story, and click on the frog to read all the stories, some may feature snow:
Little Sally drug the kitchen chair across the linoleum, spoon in hand. She was positive she had seen a Ben & Jerry’s container when Grandmother had been putting away the groceries. She had been to market, that’s what she called it, market. Mother and everyone else she knew said going to the grocery store.
Little Sally did not like Mother’s new refrigerator. At all. She desperately wanted the old one back. She did like playing with the water thing on the door, and popping out ice cubes. But this freezer was on the top. What was up with that?
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Little Sally has stepped into it now. As those two words escaped her lips she froze. Afraid to look at Mother, she pretended to be busy fixing her doll’s hair, knowing full well the boom was coming. That’s what Grandma called it, ‘Lowering the Boom’. Little Sally didn’t know what the boom was, but it wasn’t good. She had had quite a few time-outs after hearing that.
Mother said, “I think I will fix parsnips tonight.” Little Sally hated parsnips.
In a small voice she said, “I’m sorry Mother.”
Mother just looked at her. Worse than a spanking.
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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie… Sunday Writing Prompt: “Shut Up”
“Sally! I’m going to paddle your bare bottom if you don’t play fair.”
Little Sally rolled her eyes, which put Mother into even more of a tizzy.
“Don’t you put on an air with me, Sally, give Bobby back that pear right now.”
Bobby and Little Sally had been playing Fruit Stack when Mother saw her sneak one of Bobby’s game pieces.
Little Sally muttered something under her breath like “Such a flair for the dramatic, don’t be so square.”
Bobby heard her and his eyes bugged out big time.
Mother heard her too. “Fruit Stack is over, young lady!!!”
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Here was the challenge posed by weejars
I am not a
poet rhymer, but her words caught my attention, so I hope that Sarah does not mind if I used her words to write a story instead.