“I’m going away on business.”
“Again? Are you seeing someone?”
Dan watched Paula drop her hands, fisting them alongside her thighs. He didn’t have time for tantrums.
“No. Got to make a living.”
“How long will you be gone?”
His lips formed just enough of a line to let her know he’d smiled. “Couple of days.”
Hearing Steve’s impatient horn outside he picked up his bag and went out. “Ready?”
Steve laughed. “If you get me into more trouble than I already am, you are so dead!”
From the passenger’s seat Dan gave him a you-know-you-love-it grin.
Yeah–this one’s a little predictable. However, it seemed fitting for our new, expanded home on LinkedIn …
Bigger and Better Things
“Man, we’ve had an awesome run in the F.F.F. discussion on LinkedIn, haven’t we?” One story smiled.
“No doubt,” another replied. “But the thread has almost become a black hole. Tough to keep up with all the stories, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me,” said the first. “Hey–wouldn’t it be great to have our own separate group in LinkedIn, along with the discussion?”
Story 2 grinned. “One step ahead of you. Our founder Emma has just set up a brand-new group. Imagine the possibilities.”
“Writing, commenting, reflecting, discussing … the list goes on. This group looks pretty awesome for all!”
(Posted to the new F.F.F. group on LinkedIn …)
Surely a compulsive obsessive, he sought stories that not only consisted of exactly one hundred words, but also of an equal length of ten words and fifty characters per line. He spent months – years even – editing different word combinations in a Word document in pursuit of a flawless masterpiece.
One day he was done. The perfect story was ready to copy and paste into Friday Flash Fiction.
LinkedIn, of course, doesn’t do right-justification of text, and to his despair it all went haywire after he pressed the ‘Add Comment’ button.
In contrast, he got his suicide attempt right first time.
Emma Baird, our founder for Friday Flash Fiction on LinkedIn, has now set up a separate F.F.F. group on the site. Therefore, we now have an entire group in which we can share stories, comment on others’ works, discuss our writing process, and so on. The group is brand-new and we’re still determining how exactly things will work there, but it should be a great way to expand our writing and discussion. Thanks for creating it, Emma.
I’ll go ahead and (attempt to) continue posting stories to the blog from both the original F.F.F. discussion and the new group. Hopefully all the stories will transfer, and I won’t be confused TOO much …
Check out the new group when you can, by searching for “Friday Flash Fiction” on the main LinkedIn page after signing in. If you haven’t done so, be sure to follow our F.F.F. thread in the LinkEds and Writers group, too. Happy writing, all.
Carlos returned from his trip, eager to collect his puppy Chiquita. Beulah, his friend and dog-sitter, met him outdoors.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said. “No, don’t worry. Chiquita is OK. But. . .”
They walked indoors, and he gaped at the shambles – the food-strewn carpet, the shattered lamps.
“Did someone break in?” he asked.
“It was That Cat, followed by Chiquita, and chased by my own Flora. I’m afraid Chi is a bad influence on her.”
Two days later, Beulah gazed in satisfaction. The carpet was professionally cleaned, the lamps were replaced.
And Carlos had paid.
“Ugh–the brain just hurts.” He grimaced.
“Aww … the poor wittle brain can’t take so much stwess.” She smiled, looking on.
“Ah, put a sock in it. Not like YOU’VE never been busy enough to fry some brain cells.”
“Been there, done that. And I don’t have many to spare, either.”
“Well, what are we gonna do? Take deep breaths?”
She shook her head.
“Focus on positive, less stressful times that are bound to occur in the future?”
Another head shake.
“Buy an elephant and move to Tahiti?”
She just looked at him.
“I’m out of ideas.”
“And, what is your answer? Will it be door #1, door #2, or door #3?”
The crowd roared its suggestions. Numbers came from every direction, as Bob looked from door to door.
He clenched his teeth. “OK. Door #3.”
“And behind #3 we find . . .”
A fluffy goat made its BAHHHH noise as it walked on a leash towards the contestant. Bob’s shoulders slumped, as the crowd roared with laughter.
“But, guess what? That’s only the gag gift. You’ve actually won a ten-day trip to Oahu. Pack your bags!”
Bob’s eyes popped out.
He never saw it coming.