“It’s an audition for a seafood commercial. They took our glamour shots this morning. I was one of four to be called back a few minutes ago to speak our lines. They narrowed that field down to three. And I am one of the three.”
“Looks like you have some colorful competition.”
“Oh, hoiti toi, there are just a bunch of Koi. Wait, here comes the producer. I hope I’m the winner.”
“Sorry, Charlie. We are looking for someone who has good taste, not taste good.”
My favorite challenge is Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff Fields where we are challenged to write a 100 word story with a beginning, middle and end. Here’s my entry.
I told him we could find an easier and softer way of ending our relationship before he smashed me against this wall. I told him when he bought me I was built to serve the likes of Jimmy H., not someone who could not play “May had a little lamb”.
We had a great band: Peter T on synthesizer, Roger D on guitar, and Keith M on Drums.
He realized his life was becoming unmanageable. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He had tried one day at a time but it didn’t work. Insanity! Peace!
The lady, judging from her appearance and quirks, has extreme mental health issues, but she plays the game of life, non-the-less. She walks to and from somewhere dragging that shopping cart, but is also occasionally seen trundling a piece of luggage to and fro. She sports bright red earmuffs when it’s not even cold outside. To talk to her, she seems normal enough, but her appearance and that shopping card set her apart. I wonder what is so important to her that she takes it with her on a daily basis.
She always refused to leave that cart behind for any reason.
The police said “that it looked similar to cocaine and they probably thought they’d hit the big time.” Nathan stood in front of the TV cameras and pleaded with the burglars: “please return the cremated remains of my sister. She died three years ago.”
The next morning the bullet-riddled corpse of a drug dealer named Hoochie Pevens was found on the beach. The cardboard box was there too; about half of Gertrude’s ashes remained. and there was this note. It said: “Hooche sold us the bogus blow, so we wasted Hoochie. Sorry we snorted your sister. No hard feelings. Have a nice day.”