“Bits-and-Pieces!” Little Sally was perplexed, Granny always said ‘bits-an-pieces’ when she was bothered and it made her feel close to her grandmother by saying ‘bits-an-pieces’. It was her new thing. What had Little Sally in such a dither was that her new bow would not stay in her hair, she needed her bow. She would be playing and all of a sudden it would be in her face flopping around. It was pretty, pink with yellow spots, Sally’s favorite colors. She liked pink and yellow for everything, except chickenpox. Her brother had had chickenpox and he did not look good pink and yellow. Little Sally had been bundled off to Granny’s soon as that happened, but she remembered how icky he looked and hoped she would never be chickenpoxed.
As Sally was sticking her bow back on her head she got creamy filling from the Twinkie she was eating all over and now it was in her hair. “Bits-an-pieces!” Mother did not like Little Sally eating anything fun. She was fond of saying, you are what you eat. Sally didn’t quite know what that meant, but knew she would rather be sweet than something like artichoke, broccoli or, God forbid, liver and onions.
Mother looked at Little Sally a little more suspiciously than Sally would have liked, but didn’t say anything as Sally traipsed through the kitchen on her way to the backyard to play. Mother’s raised eyebrow was enough. At least the bow was now firmly stuck in place.
🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀
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?”
💡 💡 💡 💡 💡 💡 💡 💡 💡 💡 💡 💡
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?”
✍ ✍ ✍ ✍ ✍ ✍ ✍ ✍ ✍ ✍ ✍
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.
CHEF BO…a drabble for FriFic
On the Northside of Chicago, a telephone rings…
“Hi Cheryl, it’s me, Ethel.”
“One word, Cheryl, Chef Bo.”
“That’s two words. What’s Chef Bo?”
“A new Chinese restaurant on Irving! We have to go.”
“You know I don’t like Chinese, Ethel.”
“Well, you like Birds Nest Soup, Cheryl. And I’ll bet they have barbecued pork.”
“Liked, I found out how they make it, disgusting. I like the pork and I guess fried rice is okay. What’s with the Chef Bo obsession?”
“I have a coupon.”
“Of course you do, Ethel! If you had one to Hell we’d be crossing the river Styx. Okay, but you’re buying.”
🀀 🀤 🀃 🀢 🀊 🀥 🀏 🀦 🀐 🀣 🀪
SPRING PLANTING… a drabble for FriFic
The phone rings in a brownstone in Chicago…
“Hi, Ethel, what’s up!”
“Spring!!! That’s what, Cheryl.”
“It’s 36 degrees out, what makes you think it’s Spring?”
“The landlady is planting flowers and she always does that on the first day of Spring. But I don’t like her new planter.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s a porcelain throne, Cheryl!!!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Ethel? What’s a porcelain throne?”
“As if you’ve never hugged the Porcelain Throne, goody-two-shoes. It’s a commode. A loo.”
“For Christ’s sake, Ethel, speak English!”
“It’s a toilet, dammit! In front of my house!!!”
Ethel and Cheryl have returned to Friday Fictioneers! Rochelle threatened to steal this photo from TedBook’s DAILY PICS, and it looks like she did! To read more stories based on this photo or write one of your own, click on the frog.
Huffing and puffing, Cheryl never thought she’d be doing this. Hated the outdoors, liked looking at it, just not being in it. It had all started with a phone call.
“Hello, Ethel. Before you ask again, remember Caller ID. What’s up?”
“Birds! Let’s go Birding!!!”
“What in the hell are you talking about, Ethel? What’s ‘Birding’?”
“It’s where you look at birds. They’re really pretty, and you learn a lot.”
“Really? Just what are we going to learn? And how are you such an expert”
” I got a book at a yard sale, it’s all the rage now. You go out in the woods and look at birds. I’m going Saturday; please say you’ll come.”
So Cheryl, against her better judgment, agreed to go.
“Dammit, Ethel! Slow down! I don’t like this mud. I see one more barbwire fence, I’m quitting. Are you sure you know where we are?”
“Don’t be such a baby, of course, I know.”
“Well, all we’ve seen are brown birds, I haven’t learned a damn thing, and where’s the pretty ones in your book. I need a coffee.”
“I don’t know; I thought we’d see them. I think the road’s over there, I’m ready for coffee.”
🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦 🐦
I don’t think I’ve done a Sunday Photo Fiction before. My friend at Momus does and his will be SciFi, probably a star cruiser crashed in that field. When I saw this photo prompt, a story started writing. Go read Eric’s and the other SPF Stories also.
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!!!
✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺ ✺
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
UGLY FRUIT? NO, GUAVA!
“No way am I trying that!”
“Come on Cheryl, its delicious. Don’t be such a baby.”
“I’m not a baby, Ethel, I just don’t like the looks of it.”
“But Guava’s rich in vitamin C and helps cure bad breath.”
“So, now you’re saying I have bad breath? That’s rich coming from you, Ethel.”
“No! I mean it’s good for you.”
“Never, it’s an ugly fruit.”
(My apologies to my friend Suzanne for not writing something Ghoulistic in my first post at the GGP)
The Prompt for Chimera 66 Micro-Fiction Challenge #4 is:
An edible pale orange tropical fruit with pink, juicy flesh and a strong, sweet aroma.
- • Challenge submissions must be fiction or poetry.
- • Submissions must be exactly 66 words.
- • Submissions must use the prompt as specified.
- • Submissions are written for this challenge, and do not pre-date the kickoff post.
- • One submission per spectre.
- • Please put lengthy explanations at the end of your post, not at the beginning.
- • Don’t forget to add the code for the challenge badge to your post.
- • And don’t forget to have fun!
- Here is where to find out about THE GRAMMAR GHOUL PRESS and read other stories… They are scary, not like mine.
ANTIQUING… A Drabble for FriFic
Somewhere on Maxwell Street… Chicago’s South Side…
“Come on, Cheryl, where’s your sense of adventure?”
“It’s dirty and gross here!”
“Wait till you see it. It’s beautiful. An antique!”
“Old and dirty does not antique make, Ethel. You know I don’t like used.”
“Get off your damn high horse. Besides, there’s pork chop sandwiches, don’t try to tell me you won’t like those.”
“That’s the only reason I came. Where’s this chest of yours? Stop! Wait a minute… I love this!!”
“But, it’s old and dirty, plus the glass is cracked, Cheryl.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Ethel.”
TWO OLD BIRDS IN A PHOTO BOOTH… A Drabble
“Cheryl!!!” (said in a whisper)
“What???” (a whisper back)
“What am I supposed to do?” (still whispering)
“What the hell are you talking about, Ethel? Why are we whispering?” (a little louder)
“I’ve never done anything like this before. (still whispering)
“Stop whispering, dammit. It’s a photo booth for God’s sake!!! What did you think we were doing?” (increasing louder)
“I know it’s a photo booth, Cheryl! I’ve just never done it before. Where do I look?” (normal tone)
“Here, where it says ‘Put Eyes At This Line’!!!” (very loud)
“Now what do I do?” (normal voice)
a light flashes…
My Aussie pal Katherine is obsessed with photo strips. In fact so much so, she writes a fascinating blog called Photobooth Journal... which I just love. She asked me if I would create a story using one of her photo strips, and sent me the 2 photo strip above. Could the ladies in the strip be Ethel and Cheryl??? Who knows, but for today… they will be.
Now, I just got done reading a delightfully wicked story called Sebastian and the Night Visitors, at The Wizard’s Word. It was written for the 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups. I checked 100WCGU out, and this week’s prompt just clicked with Katherine’s strip.
For my pals at Moonshine on yeahwrite… I got a notice from someone who commented on an old story of mine. I liked this one and thought I’d share it at today’s still.