A Quarter’s Worth Of Fibbing Fridays

I am better-known to Pensitivity101 as A Thief In The Night, so she bequeathed me (it hardly hurt, at all) a list of other people who were also better-known as someone/something else.  Gather ‘round the campfire, my little band of Mohicans, and I’ll tell you all about them.

This week has a theme of ‘their other selves’. Hope you enjoy these.

1. Who was known as The Iron Lady?

She was the Tin Man’s wife, who sent him out for some lubricant, because his nuts were tight.

2. Who was Diana Prince?

A well-known and very popular S&M Dominatrix, who worked with a kinky golden lasso.
Tell me the truth!  You really like it, don’t you, you bad boy?

3. Who was She Who Must Be Obeyed?

That’s my wife that you’re talking about.  Oh, that’s right.  You never actually met her.  She’s not always right – but she’s never wrong.  Yes dear!  Coming dear!  This total and instant obedience is getting me all rumpled.   😉

4. Who was The Virgin Queen?

He was a guy(?) in my high school class, who liked to dress up, long before it became socially acceptable.  But he couldn’t get lucky, even wearing the other team’s uniform – no hits, no runs, no errors!

5. Who was Dick Grayson better known as?

He was a mechanic and pyrotechnician for Evel Knievel, right up till the time that he didn’t put QUITE enough rocket fuel in his bike for that Snake Canyon fiasco.  Now he works at Starbucks, creating marvelous latte art.

6. Who was The Forces Sweetheart?

She was the singer, Vera Lynn, who crooned many lovely songs on the radio during WW II, to keep Armed Forces spirits up.  I had a chance to see her some years later, at an outdoor concert near the White Cliffs of Dover, and not far from where Pensitivity now resides.  She sang (Blue Birds Fly Over) The White Cliffs of Dover, but from all the spots on my rented Austin A30, I’m pretty sure that they were seagulls.

7. Who was Sir Percy Blakeney?

During the Reign of Terror, in France, when everyone was losing their head over the country becoming a Republic, Sir Peter was an Englishman who called himself The Brown Pumpernickel.  He rescued some of the less obnoxious French upper crust, by smuggling keys into the Bastille, concealed in loaves of bread.

8. Who was Shirley Crabtree?

She is my neighbor who, even though I Am Crabby,  helped me gather the little apples with which I made the delicious nectar for my croissants, a small task I had trouble grappling with by myself.
9. Who did Arthur Wellesley become known as?

The proprietor of the most popular curry shop in all of Glasgow.  He also makes a killer Beef Wellington.

10. Who was The Wizard of Menlo Park?

That guy from OZ, after he came out…. from behind that curtain, and moved into the retirement home on Yellow Brick Road.

That is my split personalities’ opinions about those guys.  I should have it all together again by Monday.

Flash Fiction #226

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

BETTER TO GIVE THAN TO RECEIVE

I came off the Parkway, to surface streets, and at the top of the ramp stood a 30ish female with a sign saying

Homeless and Hungry
Anything will help

Seat-belted in, guys can’t reach wallets. Women with purses are good marks.

Clothes are neat and clean – there’s an insulated bag, stuffed with something. Under/behind it is a $125 backpack, better than mine. Its carry-handles tied around a sign-post, is a Wal-Mart bag full of groceries, including four cans of Campbell’s soups. It’s hard to make those up over a campfire.

I’m not saying she’s a scammer, but she looks it. 😳

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Flash Fiction #180

PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

A CHILLING NOTE

Indian build small fire, sit close, keep warm.

White man build big fire, keep warm chopping firewood.

Damn global warming!
Damn the EPA!
Damn bureaucracy!

This will be the last night we can do this.  Tomorrow, the City’s open fire ban goes into effect.  The kids will be the ones most affected – no more toasted marshmallows, no more charred wieners, no more waving glowing sticks in the air.

We can still sit around and drink beer and tell lies in the dark.  Somehow, I don’t think that an extension cord and a radiant heater are going to bring back nostalgia.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Vulcan At The Forge

My friend BrainRants is paving his back yard with beer cans.

Actually, he’s only paving a 20 foot diameter fire pit – less the 5 foot diameter central concrete burn area, and he’s using more than just beer cans – but it makes a great story.

I don’t want to use the word ‘unusual,’ because many may read it and think strange, or weird.  It’s not strange or weird (or maybe that’s just me), it’s just uncommon.  He melts aluminum down in a homemade furnace, and casts 6 inch hexagons.  His input may include discarded patio tables, or salvaged broken storm doors.  Cans often include soft-drinks, but beer cans comprise the bulk of the base stock.  14 cases of mixed cans produce 10 of these tiles.

He built his own little furnace, in a 5-gallon metal pail, using special, high-heat concrete and chicken wire for support.  He also poured a concrete lid with a breather hole and handles.  A purchased propane burner is inserted through a hole in the side to provide the heat, and crucibles, purchased online, contain the molten aluminum.

He made his own wooden hex replica, and uses it to form wet-sand moulds, into which he pours the hot metal.  This project is nearly complete.  He had 820 hexes when I arrived, including a few bronze ones, and I helped him by staying safely out of his way, drinking beer, while he poured his self-imposed weekly quota of another 20, over two days.

Here is Vulcan, beginning to pour 5 tiles.

He’s getting closer, and that stuff is HOT!  Stand well back.  All of this was done in a garage, on a hot, muggy DC August day.  I can think of no better excuse for a couple of cold beers….and another to celebrate a safe, successful conclusion.

 

Flash Fiction #60

PHOTO PROMPT -© Madison Woods

THERE’S NO EXCUSE

It was a dark and stormy night. The clouds looked like God Himself had burned them, like marshmallows over a giant campfire, then stuck one of His fingers through, so that He could see the moon…..

Dear Ms Wisoff

Please forgive Archon for not completing his assignment on time this week. His girlfriend, Erato, abandoned him – again, and he’s been quite depressed.

He’s been in bed for days, with a cheap hooker and expensive blow bad case of flu. If you can excuse this one omission, he promises to have two bright Flash Fictions for next week.

Thanx

Mama Archon

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

#490

Flash Fiction #18

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Leave-taking

The summer, which had seemed so long in coming, now seemed so quickly over.  Tomorrow they would have to close up the cottage and drive back to the city.  Tuesday, the kids went back to school.  But right now, they had promised themselves one last campfire.

Before long, the neighbors joined them, and even folks from around the lake.  Children played, and built S’mores.  People sang campfire songs, and the adults relived the happy season.  Eventually, silence reigned, and people quietly contemplated the leaping flames.

Finally, the fire burned out.  Somberly, but not sadly, everyone departed, looking towards next year.

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site, and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

What Was I Saying?

I was saying that some people take being connected way too seriously.  I just read a post by a blogger who went to Disney World for a week, and didn’t take along his laptop.  He’s an early-morning person, and was awake each day shortly after 6 AM.  Despite being in the Mouse house, the rest of his family didn’t wake till 7:30 or 8:00 o’clock.  He bitched that he could have done most of his blogging and following before they woke up.

I thought, “What would you have done if you’d taken them camping, out in the woods?”  Then I read the paper.  There, in the tech section, was an article about this little metal fireplace.  This thing uses the heat from the fire to produce electricity with a heat exchange unit.  Then it uses the electricity to run a blower to get more heat from the fuel, and spread it around a campfire.  And finally, it does what every techie wants.  It pumps the excess power to a USB port, to be used to recharge cell phones, iPads and laptops.  Just what every camper’s wife wants.  He’s never away from the office.  And you can use the recharged phone to take a picture of the bear that ate you.

Grandpa was sitting on the porch, when Billy came out and headed towards his crappy little car.  Grandpa says, “Where ya goin’ Billy?”  Billy answers, “Gotta take the car to the garage to get it fixed.”  “Aw, you don’t need to take your car to a garage.  Why, in my day we just used some Scotch tape and baling wire.  Want me to fix it for you?”  “Sure Grandpa.  Go ahead!”  Grandpa swaggers over to the car and confidently throws open the hood, only to be faced with a confusing array of pipes and wires and tubes and cables.  He stares for a few seconds, slams the hood, and says, “Take it to the garage, Billy.”

After spending over $2000, at least my car starts, first time, every time.  But, if I back out into the street, and don’t straighten the wheels before moving forward, the traction control still growls at me.  I growl right back, but the wife is not impressed.  At least the anti-lock brakes don’t fail, or kick in unexpectedly.  I haven’t been locked out for a long while, but the speedometer has been falling asleep several times in the last week.  Even if Billy takes the car to a garage, there’s no guarantee that they can/will fix it.

A believable explanation for why the black guy was stabbed to death in the park by the white guy, has surfaced.  It brings to mind two related quotes.  The best-laid plans of mice and men, gang aft aglee, (often go wrong) and, Oh what a tangled web we weave, when others we practice to deceive.  It seems that the female involved, used to be involved with the black guy, but he was too sexist and controlling.  Apparently she dumped him and went on to find another boyfriend, who happened to be white.  They all run in the same circles and know the same people, so she made it known that she had a new white boyfriend, to keep the overly-possessive black from harassing her.

He and his ego did not take this well.  He spread the story that he was gonna “get the white guy”, and “get rid of him”, so he could have the girl back.  This was done as a scare tactic, but when it didn’t work, he thought he’d up the ante and threaten him with the fake gun.  The new boyfriend didn’t scare easily, and, to ensure his safety, and that of the female, he obtained and took to carrying a large knife.  When the black guy jumped out in front of them in the dark, waving a firearm, he immediately stabbed and ran.

The young woman will not be charged with anything.  She didn’t carry the fake gun, or try to scare somebody with it.  She didn’t obtain or carry the big knife for self-defence.  In fact she may not even have known it was present.  If either of these two geniuses had done their thinking with grey cells instead of hormones, one kid wouldn’t be dead, and the other mixed up with the law.

Two stories from today’s paper.  A man had his driver’s licence seized when he was charged with drinking beer in a canoe while fishing on a small local lake.  What busybody called the cops?  I’m sure they weren’t just cruising past.  The drunken-boating charge was eventually dropped, but “The System” forgot to give him his licence back.

The second story, immediately underneath, concerns a young, female teacher who survived the tsunami in Japan.  The story says she plans to return to teaching English-as-a-second-language at the rebuilt village on Japan’s Pacific Coast.  The US has an Atlantic and a Pacific coast.  Canada has both of those, plus an Arctic Ocean coast, but, no matter how hard I look at the map of Japan, I don’t see anything except Pacific Coast.

I’ve ranted myself dizzy….no, wait, I came in that way!  I have to get some rest so that I can get up early (?) to take the daughter to the anti-violence fair in the park.  I’ll tell you all about it, in a very passive way.