Chairs… or lack of.
It was down to ergonomics now. Douglas had his proven recipes, and even decided on the background music. But to lure people in to clack away on the next Great American Novel required comfort. And, Doug planned big. Soon maybe the next Canterbury Tales or something for Bollywood… as he was going global with his empire. Colors, fabrics and shapes danced in his head, as did slogans, jingles and logos.
The honking horn broke his reverie. Doug slid open the window and put out his tip jar. The silver mini-van pulled up with his first customer.
A beautiful photo prompt this week by Rochelle‘s friend, Jean Hays, who created the Ab Fab stained glass panel. When I was in Sacramento, I lived on Fulton Ave. I wonder what is at 708? Maybe this coffee shop.
Debra was a bundle of nerves. Her first party.
Janet and Rich had been over for Pinochle, but that wasn’t really a party. And strip poker one night, not a party… a disaster.
The ashtrays were out and the wine punch made. Scott had cut up the Velveeta and artfully stacked it on a tray. She was finally using the cut glass crystal they had collected, two plates at a time every Saturday night.
All the ladies had arrived, and her card table displayed the featured attraction. Time to get started.
“Hello, my name is Michelann… and this is Tupperware.”
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE…
You are bound and determined to leave the modern world and go back to basics on this one. She will be impressed.
You stop cleaning the BBQ long enough to check progress in the bucket. The clay has to be the right consistency.
‘Hell, a turkey is too big.’ You decide duck over chicken. Not so much to cover, sounds more exotic.
To pluck or not to pluck… that is the question. You decide to pluck, and cover with lettuce.
She is coming over at seven to a table with candles and flowers.
You serve up a steaming clay egg.
I have changed the last line of my story, from ‘black’ egg to ‘clay’ egg. The duck in question is cooked in clay and brought to the table and cracked open. I think people thought I meant a burnt duck egg.
This week, our FriFicMuse Rochelle, has tempted us with a photo taken by the Aloha Man himself… Doug MacIlroy . After seeing this photo, I now know where the Keck Observatory obtains the fantastic photos of the distant planets in the Universe. To read what other writers see in Doug’s garage, click here:
She hasn’t been called. What to do about that? Fifteen times a day she should be called, have you called once today?
The hell with calling, here’s a better idea. Go see her. That’s one way to put an end to this calling B.S. Thinking, that’s what gets one ahead. Show some initiative.
Put in gear, the car moves slowly out to the drive. Turn left… you are there soon.
Spooky, that’s what you think. Not what was expected at all. Not so sure now, the handle is turning, just a slight push.
Oh no! Wasn’t a good idea.
This week’s challenging photo was taken by Rich Voza (if you see Rich, he looks amazingly like a famous musician), and used by noted humorist Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for this week’s Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt. To see other’s stories…
Better Yet!!! Write your own story… just click here.
The tinsel is hung and the lights are now lit. He is out of a job again.
He used to get to take it all down, the guy living under the Jibboom Street Bridge gets to do that now. Maybe if he moved. Such a hassle though, and he really favored the underpass near Cal Expo.
He would miss the Mall, especially the nice people working in the food court. He had hoped to catch a fast-food job, but it was not to be.
The job had its perks though, for at camp, he’d been popular with the leftovers.
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for taking time from her 41st Wedding Anniversary Celebration, to lead the Friday Fictioneers and offer one of her own photos for our prompt.
If you would like to contribute a story… go see Rochelle
She knew he loved her, when she no longer woke to the sound of the stream hitting the water. His aim for the porcelain told her so.
His sun rose and set on her.
It’s been forty-one years since he stomped on the glass… he’s still hitting the porcelain.
The post is a Special Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt… Unauthorized I might add… Total fiction… any resemblance to real people may just be intentional… Happy Anniversary!
It had been years since he touched a wheel.
Nothing said ‘vacation’ like daytime drinking, and he had been on vacation a long time. No creative spark in sight.
It bothered him, and in clear moments would go to museums, hoping a muse would find him.
Now, kneading the clay, the familiar slap on the plaster bat bringing it all back, he couldn’t wait till the first kick. He felt this might save him, for as in times almost forgot, he had no doubts it would be good.
Funny what pointed the way, another artist’s work, a jeering face saying … “Loser.”
Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction… This week’s photo prompt is by Joyce Johnson… Go see Rochelle… ADDICTED TO PURPLE … for info on how to join us.
They broke the window and slipped in the back door.
“Darker than a son of a bitch! Can’t see a God Damn thing.”
“Shhh… don’t talk like that in here. Take my phone.”
By the light of the silvery cell, they made their way forward.
“Kind of spooky, all these eyes watching us. They said the cross with the man was solid gold, I sure hope so.”
“Shut the fuck up, and follow me.”
Sudden bright lights through stained glass turn the apse into a kaleidoscope.
The Man on the Cross is shimmering to the sound of sirens.
Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction… This week’s photo prompt is by Chairwoman Rochelle-Wisoff-Fields… go to… ADDICTED TO PURPLE … for info.
Stacie watched him board the bus to a new life. And out of her’s forever… she knew she would never see him again.
When he stepped off the bus, he would be trading his cowboy hat in for a helmet. His bulk filled the door, as he handed his ticket to the driver… just the type of guy they liked to put up front.
She had a sadness deep inside, knowing he wouldn’t be coming back. Oh, he would write at first, but they would take him from her.
He stepped off the bus in Oakland… “Welcome to the Raiders!”
I haven’t written a story in some time for the Friday Fictioneers. Too much work this summer and a focus on my PhotoLog got in the way. But, this is where I first wrote a piece of fiction… thanks to Madison Woods. I had never heard of anything like 100-Words Flash Fiction before I somehow came across Friday Fictioneers. Wow, all the writers I’ve met because of Madison… places I’ve gone, and things I’ve seen thru their eyes. So, I’m writing this in tribute to Madison Woods, for she is handing the FF off to a new caretaker next week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. So goodbye Madison… this one’s for you… 100 Words, of course.
To see The Friday Fictioneers story page, and meet some of my friends… JUST CLICK HERE
p.s. here’s a link to my PhotoLog TedBook’sDailyPics
2015… Fun to see my old friends again! Thanks for three great years, Rochelle!!!
Sloe Gin was the only thing I could steal. The old Chinaman always watched us like a hawk, but I was able to slip a half-pint into my pocket. I’d never had Sloe Gin, but it was quickest to my hand.
Drank the whole thing at the dance, since my date said she didn’t want any.
I probably shouldn’t have driven, but Joan didn’t know how to drive yet, and made a big deal about not having a license.
I made it part way and had to pull over and run into the bushes.
No more Sloe Gin for me.