‘Your mama is so fat, that—’
A long, low booing resonated from the audience.
‘Okay! okay…Have you ever heard of the koi who was coy with his wife?’
‘Get off the stage!’
‘No, no wait…Okay; man walks in a bar—‘
Whizz. Glass shattered on the stage.
Damian ran out of the theatre for his life. He sat in the dark alley next to the backstage door analyzing the scribbled list in front of him.
‘Garbage Collector’ was next.
A man’s voice startled him; ‘How much for half an hour?’
Damian froze for a second, then shrugged. No reason ‘Male Prostitute’ shouldn’t be on that list.
Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy
For Trifecta and Friday Fictioneers. Two in one; economizing in this economy. The word given by Trifecta is: BOO – 3 (verb) to show dislike or disapproval of someone or something by shouting “Boo” slowly. Friday Fictioneers, on the other hand, gave us the lovely picture above.
‘Jack-ass!’ Angie spat before the last of the shattered head-lamps crumbled onto the ground.
She jumped out of the car frothing at the mouth.
‘You bitch!’ was how she was greeted by the other driver whose face was a similar shade of puce as Angie’s was.
The red Porsche she had hit was complete with waxed metal, platinum rims and two tail lights sprinkled on the ground like fine fairy dust.
It wasn’t her fault though. There she was minding her own business, when a five-seater Mitsubishi passed by with three sheep packed at the back of it going ‘Beh!’ Continue reading
Strapped inside a corset, sweating under layers of cotton, I opened the door and stepped out. A robot hovered past, feeding hot air up my petticoat.
‘Doctor…I think we’re slightly late for Napoloeon!’
For Trifextra. The theme this weekend was ‘Time Travel’. Could I have done anything else but the Doctor?!
Summer, you cruel devil, are you not done with me yet? Have my offerings in bucketfuls of sweat not been to your insatiable satisfaction?
Winter, you sweet thing, deliver me from this hell.
This was me tipping my hat at the seasons and, in so doing, answering the challenge the good people from Trifecta posed us this weekend:
Apostrophe: “A figure of speech in which some absent or nonexistent person or thing is addressed as if present and capable of understanding.”
Regarding my particular choice of Apostrophe…if you live were i do, where Summer lasts for eight whole months with daily temperatures of 35 degrees Celsius and humidity so high that the air you breath sticks to the sides of your nostrils and liquidates on its way down to your lungs…you would understand me better.
Copyright -Claire Fuller
‘What! They left already?’
‘What happened? Was it Peter with his drop-the-ball-down-the-stairs trick?’
‘No, it was Rose.’
‘You know how she gets when Carter floats to the attic to chat up the new ghost…’
‘And Rose got jealous?’
‘Yes. Freaked out. All the lights went berserk. The mortals thought that it was cos the house was old, but then Carter started dancing with the new girl.’
‘And Rose saw?’
‘Yes. She went mental. Crockery started smashing against the walls. Then she started wailing … The whole family was out of the door before Carter gave the new girl a second twirl.’
When I first saw the picture posted by Rochelle for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, I was rushing out of work with my glasses already packed safely in my handbag. I got a whole story going – title and all – by the time I got home. Only now that I downloaded the picture have I realised that it is in fact a church. But the story was done by then and it refused to leave. So there you have it and I hope you enjoy it.
Copyright – Jennifer Pendergast
‘It’s the Beesity epidemic?’
‘You know… what they were saying on the news the other day…the obesity epidemic that’s hit the bees!’
‘Oh! … What the hell is that?’
‘It doesn’t matter, just stay away from the damn things. Charlie from work said that his mother’s cousin’s daughter was stung by one and it split her in half.’
‘If it comes anywhere near you just don’t move and stay calm.’
‘Oh! … OH! … Brady…?’
‘Why should I panic, sweetie?’
‘Do. Not. Move.’
‘Shit! Sweetie? … Sweetie? Where are you going? Sweetie!’
For Friday Fictioneers. Not particularly proud of my attempt this week, but it is what it is. Hope you like it better than I do!
My writing process is in my title. Procrastinate Ad Eternum. Yes, that’s me.
Why am I telling you this?
Because in this week’s Trifecta challenge we were asked to describe our writing process in three words.
Because one of the Trifecta editors has recently been lucky enough to have been present in the aura of Neil Gaiman, who happens to be my favouritest author in the whole wide word. In the Q&A that followed the reading of the Master’s third chapter of the new book The Ocean at the End of the Lane, the Reigning Monarch in Fictiondom was asked “Can you tell us your writing process in three words?”
His Awesomeness replied, “Glare. Drink tea.”
That was a cool and insightful question to ask the Conqueror of the Pen, and I wish it came to me when I met His Greatness at the 2011 Fringe Festival. Alas, that is not how my rendezvous with my idol in fantasy fiction went. And if you want to know how it did go, read on. Continue reading