Friday Fictioneers: Just now

PHOTO PROMPT © Mikhael Sublett

“Could you hang up this picture ?”

“Yes.”

Sands whooshing through the hourglass.

“I don’t want to nag, but you are going hang the picture, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

“Nevermind. I can do it.”

“Uh huh.”

Bang.

Swearing.

Smashing.

More swearing.

“What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing? Put the hammer down. I said I would do it.”

“That was 2 years ago!”

“You never gave me a time frame. I’ll do it just now.”

“When will ‘just now’ be ‘now’? When hell freezes over? When the polar ice caps melt? When Brexit happens?”

“Yeah. When Brexit happens.”

“So, never then.”

“Smartass.”

NOTE:

In South Africa we have three time frames:

Now – meaning right this minute.

Now now – meaning soonish.

And…

Just now – meaning when I bloody feel like it, but maybe never.

Friday Fictioneers: Call a cab

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Take a taxi they said.

They go everywhere fast.

They’re reliable.

Everyone uses them.

Everyone.

Including their extended family, a gaggle of geese, a stable of horses and their mother in law.

There’s always room for one more.

Somehow.

It defies known physics.

I was the one more.

The last sardine.

A chicken pooped on my head.

A goat ate my shoelaces.

We set off at a terrific speed enveloped in a plume of black exhaust.

We swerved and careened through the crowds, hooting like a parliament of owls.

The ancient tires squealed and yowled like a convocation of screaming eagles.

Welcome to New York, they said.

I closed my eyes and thought of England.

Friday Fictioneers: Dog days

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

Every day.

I can’t take it anymore.

Today I will catch him in the act. I will get my revenge.

I’ve had enough of this horrible hound doing a full day’s business on my lawn.

He’s a poop ninja.

I’m going to hide behind this bush and wait for the opportune moment to exact my revenge.

He’s coming closer. He’s past the circle. I’ve got him.

Oh my god! It’s Headmaster Jenkins.

I can’t do it. I’ll just stay really quiet until he moves on.

No. Stop sniffing this shrubbery.

Please no.

Don’t lift your leg.

No. Not on me.

…

I hate dogs.

Friday Fictioneers: Where, oh where can it be?

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Where, oh where did my Tupperware go?

Where, oh where can it be?

With its lid long lost

And its bottom long gone

Where, oh where can it be?

Where, oh where did my Tupperware go?

Somewhere far from me?

I have a lid right here

But no bottom in sight

Where, oh where can it be?

Where, oh where did my Tupperware go?

To a galaxy far far away?

Here’s is its bottom

But no lid can I find

Where, oh where can it be?

Where, oh where did my Tupperware go?

Is it lost and all alone?

Useless and lonely with no place to call  home

Where, oh where can it be?

Before I got carried away, I wrote this…

Salt and pepper.

Kanye and Kim K.

Hipsters and artisanal coffee.

Some things just fit together in perfect harmony.

Like Tupperware lids and Tupperware bottoms.

I have plenty of both. None of tops fit the bottoms. I being to doubt that they ever did. They have mutated, devolved and disappeared.

Out of my lovely stacked set of happy burping Tupperware, I have two left. Two. Somewhere in a Hawking-esque alternative reality sit their partners.

My heart bleeds for them sucked into a meaningless existence, reduced to nothing but unfulfilled potential.

Divorced. Purposeless. Lost.

And I, the vehicle of their lonely suffering.

Friday Fictioneers: To queue or not to queue

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

“Mum. Why are we standing here?”

“Because it is a queue and to queue is the way of our people.”

“But, what is at the end?”

“I don’t know. It’s part of the surprise.”

“What if it’s something gross?”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Can I go and look?”

“No! That is not how this works. One must stand in the queue come rain or snow. One must show patience and stoicism in the face of adversity.”

“I’m going.”

…

“Mum. It’s a mime. Everyone is standing behind a mime. For no reason whatsoever.’

“That is what it means to be British.”

Friday Fictioneers: Pancakes

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Pancakes.

Pancakes are good.

I like pancakes.

I have everything I need to make them.

Except…

I can see the sieve.

I can see the pan.

Fat lot of good that does.

Look, I’m not stunted. I’m not a homunculus. I’m a normal sized person.

What gigantoid genius thought that hanging stuff from a double-volume loft roof would be a good idea?

I’d get a ladder, but the same savant hung it that from a hook in the garage and I can’t reach that either.

The person involved can kiss his chances of pancakes goodbye.

I’m going to Starbucks for a latte.

homunculus

• n. A diminutive human.

Friday Fictioneers: Headgames

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

“Where are my glasses?” in desperation.

“No idea,” smirking.

“I can’t see anything!”

“Clearly,” with a tinge of ill-timed humour.

Crash! “Bugger! I’ve broken something.”

Stomp. Glass shattering.

“I’ve stepped on them, haven’t I?”

“No. Just that ugly vase your mother bought.”

“Good. Help me retrace my steps.”

“Am I a guide dog now?” the sarcasm drips like venom from a snake.

“No. A guide dog would help with a wag of its tail and a stupid grin. You, on the other hand, are quite useless. Just tell me if you can see them,” unashamed of pleading.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“On your head.”

“I hate you.”

100 Word Story: Everyman

Photo credit: Sylva K. Ficová

Car chases, daring deeds, bringing down the bad guy, breaking smuggling rings and outwitting masterminds. That’s what I thought I would be doing.

Instead, I’ve been standing here all night. I’m cold, damp and annoyed. Drops of rain keep dripping down my neck. My fingers have cramped around the camera. My eyes are blurry with exhaustion and the utter banality of waiting around for nothing.

Poor old Bob wasn’t having it on with the cute barista. He just wanted some peace and quiet to smoke a cigar, drink some brandy and eat a toasted cheese without being nagged about it.

Find out more on: http://www.100wordstory.org/photo-prompt/

#writephoto: The road less travelled

I took the road less travelled and it was an appallingly bad idea.

There’s a reason the other path is more travelled.

Crows don’t have to slog through snow and hedgerows to get where they want to go. Listening to them cawing “Nevermore” above me in laughter did nothing to improve my mood.

At a certain point in every journey you must commit.

I committed.

Nothing was going to stand in my way. I was in 100%. In gorgeous, hand-stitched suede boots.

I stood under the roof of the trees as they whispered, placing bets on my tenacity. I was not going to let some gossiping leaves get the best of me. No. It was too late.

I stepped forward, sank ankle deep in snow and cursed the Gods. I strode bravely (I thought, but if you were watching you might have confused my movements with drunk on his way home from the pub).

I made it to the shelter of a stunted little oak, which promptly dropped its coat of snow on my head, down my neck to drip in slow torture down my back. Bugger this for a lark. Cold, wet and grumpy, I remained on course.

The last hurdle loomed before me as I made it into the home stretch. The hedge.

The hedge of hell.

The hedge of horror.

The hedge of my downfall.

I fought the hedge and the hedge won.

---

 

Try out Sue Vincent’s photo prompt for yourself!

#writephoto: Vader and Valkyrie

 

Darth? Vader?

YES.

Mind me asking, I hope you don’t, but WTF?

YODA. IS THAT YOU?

Anyone else who grammar butchers like me know do you?

WHY ARE YOU HERE.

Disturbance in the force, I felt.

Force laughing, I heard.

BUGGER. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU?

Rock, paper, scissors won I did.

I SHOULD HAVE GUESSED.

 

Smile for Instagram you must.

PLEASE NO.

Trending on Twitter you are too.

HASHTAG PISS OFF.

Make me you can’t.

Happened what did?

DON’T ASK.

Obi Wan on woman problems bet he did.

SERIOUSLY.

Hard Skywalker laughed he did.

I CAN ONLY IMAGINE.

Out yourself get you must.

DON’T BE CUTE.

Oh, out yourself you can’t get?

MY HANDS ARE ENCASED IN STONE.

Ah, Norse God off you pissed then?

MAYBE.

Woman it was then? Obi Wan right is?

GO AWAY.

Oh, Valkyrie it was not?

I HATE YOU.

Advice you need?

NO.

Advice give I will.

PLEASE DON’T.

Stuck you are. Mate for ever Valkyrie do.

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON”T KNOW.

The best luck with women you have not.

YOUR INSIGHTS NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE.

Freedom you want? Apologise you must.

I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.

Valentine’s Day it is.

SO?

Nothing you did?

NO.

May the force be with you.

DEEP SIGH.

None save you now they can.

Totally screwed you are.

IN THE NAME OF THE FORCE WOULD YOU PLEASE BE GONE.

Go soon I will.

Back with other Jedi come I will.

I CAN HARDLY WAIT.

 

 

Find out more about the Thursday Photo Prompt