“GRR–where’s my ticket to Rio??”
Amy swooshed papers left and right as she scoured her apartment for her plane ticket. The family reunion was weeklong, and the flight was in three hours. No time now to buy a new ticket.
Panic rose in her throat. She couldn’t miss this get-together, since it was the first in ten years. But no plane ticket? Kinda hard to fly.
Suddenly, she saw it under the cat’s food bowl. Reaching down to grab it, she looked Fluffy in the eye. “Trying for a vacation, buddy? Think again. This one’s mine.”
Fluffy simply meowed.
Every Saturday I visit Sam. At 99, he gets around pretty well. His general health is good. He’s pleasant, enjoys a good laugh and is a great conversationalist.
We reminisce about his days as Controller of a steel company. And then there’s golf. He loved golf! Every Saturday for years, he played 36 holes with his brothers.
Sam loves to talk about the old days. He’s always a little sad to see me go.
“Come back and see me again. You’re such a nice girl,” he says.
“Sure thing, Sam,” I assure him. To myself I say, “Love you, Dad.”
Eddie frowned: his stories seemed to have vanished from the library. He’d checked the day before and all the stories had been there. The librarian had said they were among the most requested stories in the library.
He scratched his head, puzzled. Where were they?
Behind the romance section, a huddled figure smirked as she watched his search. Oh, Eddie, I know where your stories are! I can’t bear the comparison so I’ve wiped them off the face of this earth! Now, 50 Poses of Topless Regency Rake could claim its rightful spot at top of the most borrowed list.
The League Against Children’s Stories (LACS) was formed by desperate parents seeking respite from the endless repetition of mindless junk.
Paradoxically it was LACS that realised that familiar stories could still provide twenty-first century children’s entertainment: celebrity cage-fighting.
The prime-time televised series was an instant smash hit. Viewing figures soared for the Blyton-Seuss grudge match, the Gruffalo’s mouse-squashing scene, and a particularly nasty contest involving Thomas The Tank Engine and eye-gouging.
One billion viewers worldwide tuned in for the slightly anticlimactic grand final: The Very Hungry Caterpillar simply devoured Peppa Pig in two mouthfuls.
A second series is planned for 2016.
‘She’ was gorgeous and vivacious, the ideal girl for my son so I introduced them.
Two years later I asked my son. “What’s happened with ‘She’, I thought you liked her.”
“Dad, yes, and she was beautiful, but she met Cannabis. Need I say more?
“The last I saw of her in court she looked like old straw.”
“When was that?”
“A year ago.”
“Well I saw her yesterday and she is even more vivaciously gorgeous than ever.”
“Dad, I wish you would stop trying to fix me up.”
Hmm, a wedding invitation from ‘She’ and my Son.
I used a new Plutonian software program (located on Pluto) to write my story Friday afternoon and sent it off. The finished post arrived on earth late on Friday because the distance from Pluto is 4.25 to 7.4 light-hours, depending on where Pluto is in its orbit relative to earth.
Unfortunately, being new to the Plutonian software, I didn’t specify that the transmission should STOP when it got to earth. I guess you caught it just as it passed by and went off into outer space to circulate forever in the heavens.
I’m now immortalized in outer space. Who knew?!
(An explanation in exactly 100 words).
“Which planet should we call our home?” extraterrestrial #1 asked his companion.
#2 sighed. “So many choices. How about Mercury? Near the center of the universe and action.”
“Too hot,” said #1 with a frown. “Maybe Jupiter? More mild, and peaceful-looking.”
“But we’d fall through the gaseous land. Earth’s out, due to the wackos there.”
The two looked at each other in dismay, shaking their heads. They’d never find their ideal home.
“Wait! How about Pluto?” #1 smiled. “Off the beaten path, and not even the ‘official planet’ stigma anymore.”
“And plenty of Friday Flash Fiction, too. Off we go!”