Crime Under an Assumed Name… a drabble for FriFric
“Cheryl, it’s Ethel. I need to come over and see a show.”
“Well, hello to you too, Ethel. What show has got you in a lather now?”
“CB Strike, it’s on Cinemax.”
” Why do you have to watch at my house, you have Cinemax?”
“I dropped it when I decided not to watch television.”
“Oh, but it’s okay to watch TV at my house? Why this show?”
“It was written by the lady who wrote Harry Potter.”
“JK Rollings, why haven’t I heard of it.”
“She used a fake name, Robert Galbraith, British crime story.”
“Okay, I like those.”
Somehow I missed that one back in 2012, Rochelle, I was pretty regular back then. I’ll make up for it now. Thanks to J Hardy Carroll for the prompt.
How Many Does It Take… a Drabble for FriFic
“Hi, Cheryl, it’s me, Ethel. I have a big favor to ask.”
“Ask away, Ethel?”
“Do you remember my new chandelier?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a chandelier, but go on.”
“It burned out, I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Is this one of those ‘how many does it take to change a light bulb’ jokes?”
“No, this is serious. Would you come over and hold me up so I can put a new one in? I’ll be quick.”
“Oh for God’s sake. How bout I bring my ladder and hold you so you don’t fall off?”
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Like A Top… a Drabble for FriFic
You are watching from your window, peering thru the slats of your blinds, you don’t like to appear nosy. She is in the neighbor’s yard, just spinning around. Looking up at the sun and spinning, arms raised upwards. She looks joyous.
“Who’s that little girl, have you seen her before?” you ask yourself, just curious, you don’t think they have kids.
She looks so thin, frail almost, her clothes are filthy, hair unkempt. From the doorway, the neighbors rush out and start shaking her. The man drags her to the house, the woman looks around.
You reach for the phone.
Love the photo by J Hardy Carroll, as I do love carnivals and fairs, but my story took a different direction as I thought of a recent story in the news. To see more of Friday Fictioneers’ writings click on the frog…
SAILING… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings…
“Hi, Cheryl. Want to go sailing?”
“Are you crazy! You know I get seasick, Ethel. Who did you snooker into taking you out on the lake?”
“Not sailing sailing, silly, garage sailing.”
“What the hell is ‘garage sailing’?
“It’s when you go to garage sales looking for cool stuff.”
“Oh, right. Remember your antique-vase-phase? The last thing I want to do is follow you around while you search through other people’s worthless crap looking for something you can’t do without.”
“Well, I thought it would be fun. Hey, remember the vase I got you?”
“Okay, I did need that one.”
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NO SHOE PRINTS?
“So what were they doing again?” asked the Sergeant.
“They were running around.”
“Running around. Naked, you say?”
“Yes, running around naked!”
“So, they didn’t have any clothes on then?”
“No, they didn’t have any fucking clothes on, they were naked!”
“Sergeant, we’ve finished checking the area and judging by the footprints in the garden there may be as many as six trespassers.”
“Based on the different shoe patterns?”
“No sir, no shoe prints, just bare feet prints.”
“So no shoes then?”
“Oh for fucking Christ! I told you they were naked!!!”
“Oh right, you did. We’ll look into it.”
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This is one I wrote based on the artwork above for another writing group I was in and have not been able to find who made the image. I would love to know who did it so I could give proper credit, but as soon as I saw it the story seemed to write itself.
It is a take off on Salvador Dali’s famous work.
FOLIAGE… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings in Wicker Park…
“I’m pissed, Cheryl.”
“Well helloooo to you too. What’s up now?”
“You know the pretty foliage I like to look at? They’re cutting it down!”
“You got me. Where?”
“Outside my kitchen window!!!”
“That ratty ivy next door? I wouldn’t call that ‘foliage’, Ethel. Why?”
“They’re going to paint the bricks!”
“But, Cheryl, paint? I complained to the painters, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“For crying out loud, Ethel, that’s not who you talk too.”
“I was told ‘time marches on, lady’, so rude! It’ll be ugly.”
“How ’bout getting a window shade?”
“I should have called Betty! Good-bye!!!”
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Loved this week’s photo prompt, by Roger Bulltot, of the Renwick Ruins on Roosevelt Island. Originally a smallpox hospital built in 1856 and claimed to be the most haunted spot in NYC. You can read such a story right here… Tour Guide at Roosevelt Island.
(I trimmed Roger’s photo a bit since brownstones in Chicago don’t have lawns that large)
Get Off The Pot! A drabble for Friday Fictioneers
‘What is taking her so damn long?’, thought Ethyl. She had to pee and was dying for a cigarette, having just taken up smoking recently. “Cheryl, hurry up!!!”
“Hold your horses, Ethel.”
Ethel was tired of holding her horses. And there it was again, those tones, very faint, so familiar. Just then it dawned on Ethel. “Dammit, Cheryl, I know what you’re doing. You are sitting there playing Trivia Crack on your phone with Frances while I have to pee!!!”
“I’m doing no such thing!”
“I can hear the frigging wheel go round”
“I’m… dammit!!! Now look what you’ve done!”
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THEY WRITE ON FRIDAYS… a Drabble x Four for FriFic
On the Northside of Chicago, a call button is pushed…
“Ethel, lemme in.”
“Those stairs are going to kill me. What you want to show me?”
“Check this out, Cheryl; I’m writing a story!”
“What the hell is this photo?”
“It’s my writing prompt for Friday Fictioneers. I’m going to be an author!”
“Oh spare me. Is this before the oil painting, the pottery, or the garden?”
“No, I’m serious this time.”
“You are always serious, Ethel, you just find something new the next day. Okay, what’s with this Friday fiction thing?”
“A writing group that writes on Friday’s. A lady named Rochelle runs it, and she’s written a bunch of books. Look, here’s all the people and their stories this week.”
“Hmmm… if they write on Friday, how come there’s 56 stories, it’s Thursday? Besides, they look like a bunch of weirdos to me, look at that guy with the clown nose, number 53 looks cute, though. What do you want me to do?”
“Help me think of a story, Cheryl. I thought this would be easy, but I don’t see any story in this photo.”
“Quit whining, Ethel. I see a prison in this photo. Do you think Peter Abbey was in prison?”
“Peter Abbey, the guy Rochelle got the picture from. I swear you don’t pay attention to anything, Ethel. Write a story about a prison. How long does it have to be?”
“100 words, no more no less. I hear she’s pretty strict!”
“How in hell you supposed to write a story in 100 words? Maybe we better read a couple stories.”
“I have to admit, Ethel, some of those are pretty good. Just steal an idea from one of them.”
“I can’t do that if I’m going to be a real writer, Cheryl, they have to be my words. Besides, they might catch on and then I’d get in trouble.”
“Oooooh, what kick you out of being a Friday Writer?”
“It’s Friday Fictioneers because we write fiction!”
“And you write on Friday; I get it. Okay, let’s write a prison story. One for women and there’s lots of cat fights.”
“Good, and mean guards! Someone gets a shiv in this walkway and there’s blood all over.”
“I like that, better start writing this down. I’ll help you.”
“I’m excited, Cheryl, maybe I’ll be a famous author someday.”
“Don’t you mean, We, Ethel?”
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I have always written exactly 100-word stories… no more no less… and as Ethel says, ‘I hear she’s pretty strict!’ and I have never wanted to get on that little ball of fire’s bad side. But, since this is Rochelle’s fourth year heading up Friday Fictioneers, I thought I’d write 400 words… a Drabble a Year. I asked the girls to help; I wonder if they can figure out how to work the frog thing. Thanks to Peter Abbey for the photo prompt.
WHO???… a drabble for Fri Fic
“Hi, Cheryl, it’s me, Ethel. Guess what we have to watch!”
“Not another reality show, please.”
“No, it’s science-fiction!!! A guy travels around in a British police station saving the world from aliens!”
“Great, you probably got that from Kate, I think she flies around in a Photo Booth”.
“Hockey Betty? I thought she only watched Survivor and Big Brother.”
“She turned me on to sci-fi! It’s a great show; you have to watch.”
“What’s this policeman’s name?”
“Who. He’s not a cop he’s a doctor.”
“Okay, a doctor?”
“Stop saying who, Ethel.”
“He’s Doctor Who, dammit!!!
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Love the photo by Roger Bultot, that Rochelle Wisoff- Fields picked for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. Be sure to read her story… and all the other Fictioneers stories. Thanks for reading mine, it’s been a while.
On a side note… I usually don’t divulge my inspiration for characters… but in this case, Kate is based on a friend of mine in Austraila with a very interesting blog… please visit and say Hi. I think you will like her as much as I. Photobooth Journal
One final note… this story is dedicated to my granddaughter, UlaG, who is a frequent contributor to TedBook and a Doctor Who Fan