A picture tells a thousand words Jerry…
…Because I hired a private detective – that’s how!
…You promised…a million times…’I quit baby, this time I’m going cold turkey.’
…And now I found you back on the Frappuccinos! Do you want our offspring to die of diabetes?
Why can’t you ferret around in the bins like a real man, maybe bring home some leftover pizza or a delicious slice of mouldy bread?
Don’t you bring my mother into this!
No more chances Jerry. Fall off the wagon one more time and I’m taking the kids, the cheese and the whole shebang…
Written for: 100 Word Wednesday
He jumped the security barrier and made it to the chairman’s office before being wrestled to the ground.
‘THEY’RE KEEPING THEM IN PENS,’ he howled, ‘RODENTS PUMPED UP TO THE EYEBALLS ON STEROIDS…’
The chairman came out of his office accompanied by a journalist.
‘…RUNNING ROUND WHEELS, GETTING BIGGER…TILL THEY GRADUATE TO BIKES HOOKED UP TO GIANT TURBINES…’
The man was dragged away, leaving behind a crumpled photo.
The chairman scoffed.
‘You’ll note that these conspiracists only ever have grainy pictures to substantiate their ludicrous claims…and as for your assertion that we’re in the throes of an energy crisis…’
Behind him the corridor lights flickered…
Written for: Friday Fictioneers
Ron Lexican was the greediest man to ever walk the earth. There was nothing he wouldn’t shamelessly usurp – other people’s land, other people’s wives…
It got so bad that his neighbours banded together to build a big, beautiful wall with which to contain him.
When Ron learned of their treachery his cheeks burned incandescent orange with rage. He attempted to scale the spiky barrier but his tiny hands were not up to the task…
…So he tweeted out insults, but alas the wall was fitted with a device that blocked internet traffic. Ron was never heard from again #SAD…
Written for: Friday Fictioneers (100 word fiction)
…that the answer is always ‘YES.’ ‘No,’ closes doors and denies possibilities. The second rule is to build upon the original premise.
Rachel stormed into the theatre. ‘You and Simon are having and affair aren’t you?’
Guilty-as-sin though she was, Jenny’s instinct was to deny it, but rules were rules.
Hesitation caused the chorus line to finish her sentence. ‘…It’s the best sex they’ve ever had,’ whereupon they launching into a twenty-minute song and dance number whilst painting a giant mural on the stage floor depicting Jenny’s infidelity.
‘How do you think I should take my revenge? Torture?’
Written for / Picture by: Bikurgurl
Image Credit: Toa Heftiba
The Sloans were, by nature, an incurious community, which was why they’d been granted stewardship of the egg. Twelve feet tall and wrapped in a thicket of ferns it stood in the town square weathering the seasons and centuries. In all that time The Sloans never once prodded it or tested the shell’s integrity. They were too diligent for such temptations; regarding it as a duty handed down from generation to generation.
A seam of ethereal blue light.
And a voice.
Intrigue eventually aroused they gathered around.
‘What’s it saying Margot?’
‘Sounds like…’Ah, snacks.”
Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2017/03/08/100-word-wednesday-week-7-2/