Friday Fictioneers: Blind Tears

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who provides us with a photo prompt. Each week’s challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by said photo prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

It makes me feel better about myself to write about guys who are more hopeless with women than me. Of course, that only goes so far since they’re fictional characters in fictional stories.

Blind Tears

“What is it?” asked Lizzie

“It’s a statue,” said Larry.

“I see that it’s a statue. What’s its importance?”

“I made it. It represents humanity’s blindness to the suffering of the world.”

“Why’s it a Conehead?”

“What? It’s not a Conehead.”

A few meters away, a similar scene unfolded.

“I sculpted it for you. It’s humanity crying for our fate.”

“Why does its head look like a butt?”

Meanwhile, Lizzie got out her phone.

“According to Wikipedia, this is called Consumerism, by Aaron Aykroyd. It represents our blind need to consume mass quantities.”

“Uh… Well… Um… You can’t trust Wikipedia.”

Advertisements

Friday Fictioneers: Worst Date

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who provides us with a photo prompt. Each week’s challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by said photo prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

I’m sure most people are going to focus on the flag and for some sort of patriotic story. I’m not. I don’t eat fast food. I’m not big on fried food, either. I had to do research to see what KFC has. This extends my absurd story streak to three. Someday I’ll write something serious again. I’m working on a book that’s pretty serious, so my absurdities have to come out here.

I’m going to a big family thing this evening through the weekend. If I’m slow to respond to comments or don’t read other people’s entries, it’s nothing personal. My apologies.

Worst Date

“So, KFC?”

“Yeah, they have a two-piece combo for only $2.99.”

“That’s a good deal.”

“They also have a Cheetos sandwich that’s lit.”

“Cool. Cool. Um… You know I’m a vegetarian, right?”

“Right. They have mashed potatoes and like green beans and mac and cheese. It’s pretty lit.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“I hope this bitch doesn’t spit in our food. I used to hang out with her sister, till she caught me with her friend. We weren’t doin’ nothing, but she got pissed.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was prolly her time of the month. What do you want to do after this?”

Friday Fictioneers: Understudy

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who provides us with a photo prompt. Each week’s challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by said photo prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Of Mice And Men: The Musical was the most absurd musical I could think of this morning. I think all musicals are absurd. As it turns out, there is actually an opera based on Steinbeck’s classic. Sure. Why not? My fictional Of Mice And Men: The Musical is in no way related to the opera. It was just supposed to be silly.

Understudy

This was it. All the practice, all the rehearsals had finally brought Lydia to Pine Street. Broadway was the goal, but The Chaplin Theatre was a start.

Denise was stricken with a mysterious illness. Lydia, always the understudy, was now the star. She was the female lead in Of Mice And Men: The Musical. It didn’t matter that she was the only female or that her character was nameless. She was an important, though underappreciated, character. She would make her famous. She would name her. She always liked the name Lydia.

Why was her understudy looking at her like that?

It’s Wednesday again, which means it’s time for Friday Fictioneers. It’s always Friday somewhere, right? Not on Earth, but somewhere, somewhere out there among the stars it’s Friday. Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields,each week’s challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by the following photo prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © Valerie J. Barrett

T For Tea

“Fancy a spot of tea?” Brian asked.

“That was the worst English accent I have ever heard,” Jessica said.

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Harsh.”

“I hope your tea is better than your accent.”

“It is. Here. Careful, it’s hot.”

Jessica blew gently on her tea, then carefully sipped. “Mmm… It’s sweet, but there’s something a little tart. Wha…” She grabbed at her throat.

“Remember that time, 30 seconds ago, when you made fun of my English accent?”

Jessica only managed a gurgle in response.

“I’ve been planning my revenge ever since,” Brian cackled through his pseudo-English accent. “At last, vengeance is mine!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I could not think of a reason for Brian to kill Jessica that wasn’t cliché, cheating, embezzling, he found out she was secretly his long-lost sister… I came up with one where she cheated at a game of Monopoly three years ago, and he’s been carefully plotting his revenge. It made me laugh. Then, I decide to just go the full absurd and do a call-back to the accent joke. I was a little concerned that not everybody would remember that from the very beginning of the story but decided to take my chances.

A To Z Challenge N: ¡No Más!

I am officially admitting defeat in the A To Z Challenge. I alluded to this possibility in a previous post when I first started. My life is in shambles right now. I have a lot going on. I had to go out of town for a couple weekends. One right at the beginning of the challenge and last weekend. I inherited a lot of furniture, which are all upgrades. Anything that wasn’t an upgrade got donated or trashed. So, the house is chaos.

I live with my best friend in her house. We moved in just as a family she knew needed a place to stay. We all moved in at once. Things got put in places for convenience and never moved. They were here for about four months. That was a few years ago.

One of the many things I got was a new desk. It wasn’t inherited, but that’s a different story. Someone’s moving and gave it to me at the same time. I piled it in the U-Haul on top of all the furniture I inherited. I thought it would be nice to have a desk that wasn’t primarily composed of particle board. Parts of my old desk disintegrated in the rain when we moved in. I wanted it in my bedroom where my other one was. I got it in there and tried to put it back together yesterday. It didn’t come close to fitting.

My bed room is becoming an office. My friend paints, so her painting studio is moving out of the living room into the newly minted office. My exercise room is becoming my bedroom, which it was initially supposed to be after everybody else moved out. I’m hoping there’s still room for my exercise equipment and space to use it. The dining room is going to become a dining room. Imagine that.

In the meantime, everything is out of place. My desk is sitting in there in pieces with my bed and a really heavy dresser that’s facing the wall and blocking the doorway. There are books all over the floor in two different rooms. The empty book cases don’t look right of fit anywhere I can think to put them. There are boxes full of stuff that keep getting moved from room to room to room and back and back and back. I’m stuck with a dresser I didn’t want because it’s in what’s becoming my room and there’s nowhere else for it to go. Everything that moves necessitates moving something else. It’s like moving but worse because things are already in the way.

I’m using the dining room table as a desk right now. I’m surrounded by chairs, a dresser, a coffee table, shelves of DVDs, leaves for the dining room table, books on the floor, two TVs, a random stool, a cabinet full of video games, and a box full of James Brown, Lou Seal, and ET among other random objects.

The garage is full of old furniture, new furniture, and stuff we’re trying to organize for a community garage sale at the beginning of next month. That’s on top of the garage’s normal chaos. The car can’t fit in there. I can’t get to my weight bench that lives in there. I’m probably way too physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted to use it anyway.

In addition to that chaos, I found a dying rabbit in the gutter in front of my house this morning. It survived some kind of animal attack to die in a gutter. I’m still waiting for animal control to get here. It’s been over an hour. I have a blood donation appointment, that I’ve already rescheduled, and a dentist appointment next week. We won’t even get into my personal life, which is literally so personal that it’s just me sitting alone in the dark with my computer.

The point of all that is I don’t have time to write. Writing is all I want to do other than form some semblance of a personal life. I’m going to try to still do my normal weekly challenges, but I don’t know. I did start an M story. I hope to finish that and get it up. This is my N, and I’m pretty sure N was yesterday. I’ve enjoyed the challenge and want to finish, but it’s not happening.

Thank you to everybody who read my stories. I’m sorry I didn’t make it out to read more of other people’s, but, you know, this. You can read the rest of my A To Z Challenge stories.

I hope this came out more coherent than my house.

The garbage truck is here. The rabbit is lying next to the garbage can. I hope they don’t smash it. I can’t look.

Versatile Blogger Award

Marysa Writes nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Award. This looks much more like a chain letter than an award, but I like Marysa and respect her artistry, and I appreciate the thought, so I’ll play along. At least, there’s no threat that a homeless person will break into my house, eat my dog and pee on the floor if I don’t pass it on.

Here we go:

Thank you so much Marysa Writes for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger Award.

The Rules

1. If you are nominated, Congratulations you have been awarded the Versatile blogger award.

2. Thank the person who gave you the award and include a link to their blog.

3. Select 10 -15 blogs/bloggers that you’ve recently discovered or follow regularly.

4. Nominate those bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award.

5. Tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself.

7 things about Nobbinmaug:

  1. I’m Nobbinmaug. You’re welcome. (I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it makes me laugh.)
  2. I am Eereeenían, which is way better than being human.
  3. Eereeenían’s are immune to time.
  4. I wrote the classic books The L Squad & Norman Normalson & The Normals. They’re not classics now, they’re not even published, but I see all time and know what is to come.
  5. I once ate a grasshopper. It was gross. (It was in a restaurant. I don’t just scrounge the yard for tasty morsels. “Ooh, grasshopper.”)
  6. The gopher ate my burrito.
  7. I am easily distracted. “Ooh, grasshopper.”

7 things about me:

  1. Oh, I already used my seven? Oh well.

Blogs I nominate:

A To Z Challenge: Laura Juarez

Catch up on all my previous installments here.

For today’s installment of the A To Z Challenge, we’re going by Laura’s surname. This is a look into some of the anti-alien sentiment that still exists around the time of the refugee’s release from quarantine. This is a precursor to one of my favorite chapters in The L Squad. I got weird, which is fun. Here’s the world’s introduction to Laura Juarez.

Laura Juarez

A phone smashed into the wall as Laura Juarez entered her boss’s office. She jumped and winced and considered leaving. She didn’t just want to leave the room and the building but the job. She thought of quitting many times, but this was her dream job. She followed in her father and grandfather’s footsteps. Journalist was the only job for her. She would have preferred to be employed by a network other than FBS, but they’re the network that gave her a chance.

“Have you heard?” Mr. Laurasbossman asked. Yes, it is quite the coincidence that he’s Laura’s boss, and his name is Mr. Laurasbossman. I think it’s Icelandic.

“Heard?” Laura asked, trying to suppress a cough. The cigar smoke made the room look like a dirty cloud.

“The aliens. Have you heard?” Mr. Laurasbossman repeated, cryptically.

“What about the aliens?” asked Laura Juarez.

“They’re being released. They’re freeing them from quarantine,” said Mr. Laurasbossman.

“Do you want me to do a report?” asked Laura. “I could interview some of the aliens and welcome them to our planet.”

“I want you to do a report,” said Mr. Laurasbossman. “I want a report on the dangers of these aliens. I want them portrayed as vicious and blood-sucking. Tell the world about the diseases they carry.”

“If any of that were true, they wouldn’t be released from quarantine,” said Laura Juarez.

“I don’t care what’s true,” said Mr. Laurasbossman. “That’s our stance. That’s our story.”

“I became a journalist to report the news, not makeup stories,” said Laura. “What about the facts?”

“No one cares about the facts,” said Mr. Laurasbossman. “People want sensationalism. They want to be scared. More importantly, they need to know that these aliens are a threat to our planet’s safety.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Laura. “I think…”

“Enough!” yelled Mr. Laurasbossman, shaking free the ash from the end of his cigar. “That is the story we’re telling. Now, go tell it or go back to whatever local news channel you escaped from before coming here.”

Laura paused. She pondered the value of her integrity. She wondered if the job of her dreams, the career she worked all her life to get was worth selling out her values and her forebearers. Rage swelled up inside her at the thought. It wasn’t worth it. The time had finally come for Laura to tell this megalomaniac what she really thought of him. He could take this job and…

“Go!”

Laura left and got to work on her report.

Friday Fictioneers: Strangers In The Night

This is another Friday Fictioneers production. Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, each week’s challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by the photo prompt provided.

I haven’t been very active the last couple weeks, as far as reading other submissions. I’ve been very busy with the A To Z Challenge and a little of this and a little of that. My apologies. I’ll try to be better this week.


PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Strangers In The Night

“Dearest, come to me tonight at the stroke of 12. Ascend the ivy to my room. I will be waiting with bated breath, my love.”

He ran around town showing the note to everyone he knew and even a few strangers.

He rushed to her as the hour approached.

In the darkness, he found a friend.

“I came to wish you luck,” said he.

Before the ivy, he found another fellow.

“I’m here as a lookout. One can’t be too careful.”

He pulled two off the ivy before ascending himself. To everyone’s surprise, he found his love in another’s embrace.

A To Z Challenge: Hitch

Today’s A To Z Challenge is H, I hope. I don’t even know what day it is. It could be Cucumbersday for all I know. Time is an illusion and Eereeeníans are immune to it. That’s my story, and you’re sticking to it. Today’s story is about Hitch. It includes some callbacks to previous A To Z Challenge stories, Abby and Charlie. This is fully functional as a stand-alone but reading the others will provide a more in-depth story.

Hitch

“Gorgonzola,” Hitch swore, as he lay on his back looking up at the sky.

Cheese is highly regarded on Zechisten, as it should be on all planets. References to cheese, when used as such, are considered high profanity and thus popular among the youth. His time on Earth has given him a whole new list of cheese varieties to blaspheme.

After the day’s training session, Hitch received a visit from his best friend, Abby.

“What’s going on with you?” Abby asked, commencing a conversation that would sound a lot like something one might see on one of Earth’s sitcoms or afterschool specials.

“I should be one of the squad leaders,” said Hitch.

“I think Captain Grek agrees,” said Abby.

“Then, why does he push me so hard?” asked Hitch.

“He knows you can do better, and he needs you to be your best,” said Abby.

“Golly gee whiz! I thought if I won the big sports game match, Dad would love me,” said Timmy.

“Your father loves you just swell,” said Mrs. Dad.

“I heard rumors that Fhart is going to be a squad leader,” said Hitch.

“I think it’s pronounced ‘Fot,’” said Abby.

“Whatever,” said Hitch. “I’ll end up on a squad under Captain Fhart Gobbler. He hates me just because I made a fart joke one time… or seven… teen. It’s funny. I can’t help it. Why in the universe is his name Fhart? Wouldn’t you change your name to something yelpsnig like Hitch?”

“You just have to learn not to be so reckless and cavalier,” said Abby, “and focus better.”

“You’re right,” said Hitch. “I’ll show them. I’ll be the fastest and bravest. I won’t take any cheese from anybody.”

“That’s not what that means,” said Abby.

“Yeah,” said Hitch, with a dreamy look in his eyes. He ushered Abby out before she could elaborate on his deficiencies and ways to fix them, which was one of his deficiencies.

The next day, Captain Grek set-up an obstacle course. Hitch threw himself into it. He got out to a considerable lead over the others in his group but failed to plan and strategize. He took a wrong turn and ended up not finishing the course.

A week later, Hitch found himself grouped with George, who broke records with half his flight tests while crashing the other half of the time, Kip, who could only perform when the other Yortians weren’t around, and Abby, who didn’t seem to care about training at all. Hitch had his command, and this group of outcasts and underachievers was to be his squad. It crossed his mind that he may have just been put in charge of the janitorial staff.

One morning, Abby brought him into her room. There, Hitch was introduced to someone he had never seen before. The R.A.D. was full of a plethora of species of aliens, but he had never even seen one like this.

“Who is this?” asked Hitch.

“I’m Charlie. You must be Hitch,” said Charlie. “I’ve heard ever so much about you.”

Hitch looked at Charlie, confused. “I haven’t heard anything about you.”

“Hitch, this is my dog, Charlie,” said Abby.

“What in the universe is a dog?” asked Hitch.

“I am,” said Charlie. “I’m a dog. Well, sort of. You see, I used to be a dog. Now, I’m… Well, I’m still a dog…”

Abby looked up dogs on the human’s archaic, low-powered version of the Intergalactic Interweb. This only served to confuse Hitch more.

“What’s a pet?”

Further explanation got Hitch up to, “Are we pets? The humans kept us in quarantine for a long time.”

“No, we were more prisoners,” said Abby.

“What’s the difference?” asked Hitch.

“Pets are subservient but willingly so,” said Charlie.

“Subservient?” asked Hitch.

“One who obeys someone else,” said Abby.

“Are we Captain Grek’s pets?” asked Hitch.

“Does he lavish you with love and affection?” asked Charlie.

“No,” said Hitch.

“Then, you’re just his subservient,” said Charlie.

Abby and Charlie finally got Hitch to understand the completely alien concepts. He wasn’t out of questions, though.

“So, how is your dog standing upright and speaking English?”

“I invented an anthropomorphizing device,” said Abby.

“Now, you’re not speaking English,” said Hitch.

“It means I gave Charlie Yamfennian-like qualities,” said Abby. “My device made it so she can stand upright, speak English, and use her paws like hands.”

“What are you going to do with her?” asked Hitch. “How are you going to hide her?”

“We’re going to hide her in plain sight,” said Abby. “She’s going to be part of our squad.”

“Our squad is already the lowest ranked in R.A.D. This is only going to make it worse,” said Hitch. “Captain Grek can’t find out about this, Abbs.”

“I have a plan,” said Abby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For more on Abby’s plan see Charlie’s A To Z Challenge

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑