Flash Fiction # 129

Steampunk

PHOTO PROMPT © Jellico’s Stationhouse

EASY RIDER

Hurry up, already. We’ll be late for lecture.  Why don’t you buy an electric moped?

There was no use saying it out loud. It was always the same.  It took Lenny as long as it took, almost ten minutes.

In that amount of time, we could have walked across campus and got a coffee with the blonde twins.

I really don’t understand some people’s enthralment with Steampunk. What genius builds his own steam-powered bicycle, and carries coal around in his backpack?  Where do you even buy coal??

Finally, like the Little Engine – I think I can, I think I can….

***

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

A To Z Challenge – Q

april-challenge

Be vewwy, vewwy quiet.  I’m stalking shelves.  😯

letter-q

I think, basically, that most of my life could be defined by the word Question.’ not,

Verb (used with object)
1: to ask (someone) a question; ask questions of; interrogate. 
2: to ask or inquire.

although there was a lot of that going on, too. I was a curious child, in more ways than one.

Why is the sky blue? How high is up?  How long is a piece of string?  How far can you run into the forest?  Only half way! After that, you are running out.

I don’t know what made me an unbeliever. I was raising and selling cynicism at a profit, when I was as young as 5 and 6-years-old.  For me, ‘Question’ was always more,

3: to make a question of; doubt:
He questioned her sincerity.

4: to challenge or dispute:
She questioned the judge’s authority in the case.

5: a point at issue
a difficulty or uncertainty 

I ‘questioned’ almost every assertion – parents, preachers, politicians, teachers – usually silently, internally at least, until they’d been verified, but….doubt, doubt, doubt. See above: I am uncertain.  I have difficulty blindly accepting the point at issue. 

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that without proof! I can’t possibly believe that you believe it.

Once, in the arrogance of my youth, (You know, just after I turned 40, had my mid-life crisis, and bought my first motorcycle) I even thought that I was qualified to teach a course at one of the local Universities on ‘How To Think: 101.’  All I had to do, was train these fresh-faced, gullible impressionable young minds to “Question Everything.”  “Here’s your diploma. Thanx for the tuition.”

As I grew older and grumpier wiser, it wasn’t long before I finally realized that most of the flock of sheeple, refuse to question anything.  They want their lives easy and uncomplicated.  They want to be told what to do, how and when.  They want to be told what to believe, and they don’t want to go to the trouble of thinking about it themselves.  They don’t even want to question the obvious contradictions.

It is the failure of individuals and whole populations to question, which has brought the world the likes of Hitler, Stalin, Hirohito, Pol Pot, Mugabe, Khadafy, Hussein and bin Laden.  Now, the only question that the public seems to have is, “How could such a thing have happened?”

My question is, how many more letters are there, and when will this all end?

There are 9 more letters in the alphabet and, if I schedule my posts correctly, the last will be published near the end of April, 2017, just in time to start a new series. Stop back in a couple of weeks to see if I write about Rock And Roll, or Retirement.

😆

Flash Fiction #113

journey

PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese

THE LONG VIEW

Go do your homework!

Aw Mom, why? They’ll just give us more tomorrow.

Yes, and next week, and next month, and then you’ll go into your final high school year. If you do your homework, you’ll get good marks to get into your chosen college – where they will give even more homework.

If you work hard there, you’ll get a good job when you graduate. Nobody gets anything without hard work.  It may look like a long, difficult journey, but it will be worth it in the end.

….You’ll be able to pay for a good retirement home for us.   😉

***

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

Institute Of Higher Learning

University

On the first day of college, the Dean addressed
the students, pointing out some of the rules:

“The female dormitory will be out-of-bounds
for all male students, and the male dormitory to
the female students.

Anybody caught breaking this rule will be fined
$20 the first time.” He continued, “Anybody caught
breaking this rule the second time will be fined
$60. Being caught a third time will cost you a
fine of $180. Are there any questions?”

At this point, a male student in the crowd
inquired: “How much for a season pass?”

***

Little Johnny missed his final exam due to the
flu, but he’d done so well during the year that
the teacher suggested to the principal that they
gave him an oral exam to make up for the test he
missed. The principal agreed so they called
Little Johnny into the office and explained to
him what they were going to do.

First the teacher asked, “Johnny, what does a
cow have four of, that I only have two of?”
Little Johnny replied, “Legs.”

Next the teacher asked, “Johnny, what do you
have in your pants that I don’t have in my
pants?” Little Johnny replied, “Pockets.”

Finally the teacher asked, “Johnny, what is
the capital of Italy?” Little Johnny replied.
“Rome.”

The teacher turned to the principal and asked,
“What do you think, should we pass him?” The
principal replied, “Better not ask me, I got
the first two wrong.”

***

This guy keeps falling asleep in church and his
wife’s getting sick of it. She decides she’ll
bring a pin to church with her and poke him when
he starts falling asleep. They’re in church the next
Sunday and he starts falling asleep right as the
preacher’s saying, “and the Lord God created the
heavens and the earth.” His wife pokes him and
he jumps up yelling “HALLELUIA!!”

The preacher, looking startled, says “very good, very
good.” A little while later he starts falling
asleep again as the preacher’s saying, “and the
Lord parted the Red Sea for Moses”. His wife
pokes him and he jumps up yelling, “PRAISE THE LORD!!”

The preacher exclaims, “Very good, very
good!” A little while later he falls asleep again
just as the preacher says, “and what did Eve say
to Adam after they had their second child?” His
wife pokes him again and he jumps up yelling,
“STICK THAT THING IN ME AGAIN AND I’M GONNA
BREAK IT OFF!”

Flash Fiction #7

 

Stepping Down, Stepping Up

jennifer-pendergast4

 

 

 

 

He still couldn’t believe the amount of work and planning that had come together to allow him to study at this prestigious little English college.

His marks were quite good and he would graduate next spring and return to America to begin his career. He particularly liked the panoramic vista from the entry arch.

He had begun to think of it as his exit arch.  College staff had taken down a sign some wag had put up, reading, “Watch the first step.  It’s a doozy.”  How prophetic, his first step out of here, after his graduation, would indeed be life-altering.

 

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

 

Purple Jesus

I wonder already, how many of you know what I’m talking about, and how many are just shaking your heads, confused and wondering.  Did you ever go to college or university?  Did you ever get really wasted on booze?  Did these two things happen more or less in conjunction?  Chances are, you know about Purple Jesus.

Purple Jesus is the drink of choice for those who want to be a little more upscale than those who merely swill beer.  It’s the all-you-can-drink buffet served by folks who want to throw a party you won’t remember.  There’s supposed to be a recipe for it.  One bottle of Rye, one bottle of rum, one bottle of gin, and one bottle of pure, unflavored alcohol.  All “bottles” are 26ers in Canada, and fifths in the USA.  For each bottle added to the communal pot, a 48 ounce can of Welch’s Grape Juice is stirred in.

In practice, it includes whatever the BYOB guests bring.  It all gets covered by the taste of the grape juice anyway.  At the party I attended, the mixing was done in a huge canning kettle.  With two universities and a large Community College in town, there are tales of bathtubs in the students dorms, stained permanently purple.  Scrub and rinse the tub, put in a new stopper, and you’re ready to party.

The little bash I attended was supposed to be a lease-breaking party.  Two friends had signed a year’s lease, but wanted to move to a handier location after eight months.  The landlord wouldn’t let them sub-let, and didn’t want to be bothered screening a new tenant, hence, The Party.

Newly married, the wife and I arrived on-time, to find the shindig already under way.  All chairs and sofas were full, so we wound up sitting on a couple of cushions on the floor.  A short while later, we were joined by a hippie couple and their male, deodorized, pet skunk.  Cute little fellow, (the skunk) friendlier than any cat.

All of us sucked back the PJ, except the hippies; they toked up and added a contact high to the room.  They lived on the seventh floor of another apartment building, and the next day, the skunk committed suicide by walking off the balcony, or so they claimed.  Poor thing, probably thought it could fly.

Our hostess served each of us a twelve-ounce glass of this witch’s-brew, as we sat on the cushions.  The stuff goes down like Kool-Aid.  Twenty minutes later, my glass was empty.  I went to stand up to get a refill, but the hostess told me to sit, and got it for me.  Twenty minutes later, my glass was empty, again!  With no hostess in sight, I lithely arose….and apparently an earthquake tipped the building.  Holy S**t, I think I’ll just collapse sit here and coast for a while.

The party was in the middle of February, but with that many people, the doors to the snow-covered balcony were left open.  The first glass you get with the ladle.  Perhaps the second glass you get, you use the ladle.  By the third glass….ah, t’hell widdit, just dip the glass into the pot, and get grape-coated fingers.

One of the partiers did this, and then stepped out for some fresh air.  Seeing the humor potential only a drunkaholic would, he grabbed a small handful of snow, and tossed it at one of his friends.  At least it struck the wall in the same room.  The person splattered by the ricochet got up, went to the kitchen, dipped out another glassful of the magical elixir by hand, grabbed some snow, and tried to return the favor.  Soon, it looked like a pie-fight in one of the Three Stooges movies.

When the gaiety subsided because everyone was out of breath, the walls were decorated with dozens of little purple exclamation points.  The grape-encrusted snow had hit the walls, melted and run down, leaving purple tracks.  Maybe my ears were anesthetized, I didn’t think the noise level got too high.  The next day, the landlord came up to complain, and saw all the marks on the wall.  It cost them the price of repainting the room, but they got their wish.  They were out by the end of the month.

Ah, the good old days, when we were invulnerable.  Now, if I have a second small glass of Pepsi, I pay for it the next day.  Never *regular* partiers, both the wife and I cut back when we got married.  Did any of you party hardy when you were young and foolish?  Are you foolish enough to think you still can?  KayJai and her booze-cruise buddies need not respond to this poll.  They are exempt from self-incrimination.