Flash Fiction #202

Erudite

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

RISE UP

Bobby’s mother said, ”You want to be what?”

“Sesquipedalian and erudite.”

Well, the long word meant, ‘using long words’, and the short one meant, ‘learned or scholarly.’ “Why?”

“I want to impress people.”

She replied, “Your grandmother used to say, ‘Don’t get above your raisin.’ ” She almost smiled at his puzzlement. She hadn’t understood it when she was 16, either. “The word is actually raising. It means, ‘Don’t put on phony airs’. People will like you if you are honest and real. You have to study to get big words. You can’t just find them with a magnifying glass.

***

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

Friday Fictioneers

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’18 A To Z Challenge – E

Challenge '18 Letter E

Hold your nose and vote.  The last-minute surprise (and disappointment) winner of this year’s A to Z Challenge for the letter E is

ELECTION

Ballot Box

If the word ‘election’ is the winner, the voters here in Ontario are the losers.  We are about to hold a Provincial vote on Thursday, June 7th, and there is no good choice, only, the least of the worst.

The Liberal Party, who regard themselves as ‘the Natural Ruling Party,’ have, during their 14-year rule, financially run the province into the ground.  With their social engineering fascination with ‘renewable, Green Energy,’ like the wind turbines and solar panels that I wrote about seven years ago, they have made Ontario’s the second highest cost of energy in North America.

High electricity costs drove jobs and companies out of Ontario, reducing tax income.  Last year, the Premier cut the cost of electricity by 25%, by borrowing Billions that will have to be paid back plus interest over 30 years – not merely our children, but our grandchildren are mortgaged.

In a cynical bid to be elected in their place, the New Democratic Party – the NDP – promise that they will reduce electrical costs by 30%….  while also cutting taxes.  Even a first-year vocational institute bookkeeping student can see that that just can’t be done.

They’re having troubles with their list of candidates.  In 2012, one young man took part in a rather spirited protest at his University, and can be seen in published stills and video, holding up a large sign that clearly says, “FUCK The Police.”

A middle-aged female candidate has been on Twitter and Facebook about the wearing of Memorial poppies.  She thinks that they are just a way for the present government to brainwash and control the electorate, glorify war, and become more waste in the landfill.  She refuses to wear one, and sticks to her peace symbol.

Near my home-town, some yahoo published a post saying that he was going to soak a poppy in bleach, and “let the red bleed out,” to get one of those white ‘Surrender’ poppies.  The Royal Canadian Legion owns all rights to the red poppies, and published an article decrying the desecration.

Another middle-aged female candidate jumped in, claiming that the original article was relevant, supporting the writer.  She objects to the Legion having a monopoly on red poppies, says that they (the Legion-and the poppies) glorify wars – ALL wars – and ends with, “A plague on their house.”

It’s hard to know what to hate most, the fiscal incompetence, the cynical manipulation, or the social malfeasance.  “I’ll take all three, for $500, Alex.”

The Ontario Progressive Conservative Party, owner of the world’s most confused and contradictory name, recently installed a new Provincial caucus leader.  He has been favorably (or is that unfavorably) compared to Donald Trump.  With The Donald’s impressive abilities, I think that the Ontario version is just a Mini-Me, even though he tips the scales (and SmartCars) at 300lbs.

He is everything that you would not want your daughter to marry – brash, impulsive, self-centered, ill-mannered, sexist, entitled.  He has little political experience.  He did run a multi-million dollar business in Toronto, but can he run the multi-Billion dollar Province of Ontario, where tact and restraint will be required?

Claiming that he didn’t have enough time for normal nomination protocols, he simply appointed his picked candidates in 13 ridings – so much for his promise of transparency in government.

In my local riding, we’ve had a P.C. representative for the last two terms.  He has been efficient, and caring of his constituents.  His name is Michael Harris.  Some years ago, Ontario had a P.C. Premier named Mike Harris. Now his son – also Mike Harris – wants to get into politics.

The P.C. Association played a dirty #metoo trick on our Michael Harris, dragging out years-old sexy tweets to some woman who never worked under him, and suspending him, to parachute in Mike Harris.  Even with the transparency, did you follow that?  Who’s on first??!

You Americans should try to get Trump to put up a wall at the Ontario border by Thursday.  If things go the way I fear they might, you may need it.  With the prevailing winds, most of the fallout should carry into Quebec.  I will not waste my ballot by not voting, nor refuse my ballot, to make a political statement.  I will not give it to the Libertarian or Green Party, one-trick-ponies.  I am in a quandary.

E was for Election.  Stop back in a couple of weeks to see if F will be for, “We’re F**ked.   😯

2017 A To Z Challenge – N

*Challenge2017

Our Canadian Postal Code is N2N 3B4.  When asked for it, to prevent mistakes due to misheard pronunciation, we tell people that it is, “Not too new, three before.”

For the letter

letter-n

I downloaded these prompts;
negotiate, no, new, news(papers), notes, not my problem, Niagara, night, name, nothing

In no particular order;                   

I have already composed and published a post about ‘It’s Not My Problem’ here, for anyone who wants to (re)read it.

I live about an hour and a half drive from Niagara Falls, Ontario.  It’s an unusual year that I don’t take the wife, the son, or both, for a day or a weekend there.  I published a 100-word Flash Fiction about it here,  including a great photo of the night-time colored lights on the American side, buried in the comments.

I’m so old that nothing is new anymore.  I’ve seen it all, done most of it, forgotten a bunch, and been caught at very little.

I’ve written about my lack of memory, a problem that I partially solve with copious notes.  See – prompts, above.

I’m sure like many others, my wife is addicted to the word no, and doesn’t even realize it.  (and I’m not gonna mention it)  The first word of response to any question or request, is likely to be, “No.”  Maybe it comes from raising children or grandkids. “Do you want me to put the rest of this stew in a Tupperware container, and put it in the fridge?  We could have it for lunch one day next week.” “No.  I want to save it for a lunch next week.  Put it in a Tupperware container and put it in the fridge.”

For no reason, other than that I never have, I continue not to reveal my first name on my blog-site.  I kinda discussed this back on M’s misidentification post.  Call me Ishmael Archon.

Several years ago, the Waterloo Region Record newspaper switched to being a ‘morning’ paper, guaranteed to be to your house by 5:30 AM.  When it was an afternoon paper, it was delivered by reliable school-kids after class.  Now, it is delivered to me by a Jamaican Negro in an old truck.  Since the son works midnights, he has the car, and the driveway is empty.

Rasta-Man rolls down the hill in neutral, rolls up our slanted driveway and puts the brakes on, flings the paper out the driver’s window left-handed, and rolls back out of the driveway. He’s only touched the house with the paper twice in that time.  Once, it landed on my porch roof, and the other time he pitched the heavy Saturday edition through the porch railing, snapping one of the support spindles.  I have found it in two different gardens, stuck up in our magnolia bush and so far under it that, like the porch roof delivery, I had to use a broom to get it.  Often it lands at the garage corner – right where the eave drips after a rain, or a snow melt.  Fortunately, they come in a plastic bag, although I’ve had to defrost an ice-coated paper.

Last summer, he must have taken vacation. On the first Monday, I called circulation because I didn’t get my copy.   Someone drove one out to me.  We don’t get mail home delivery, but I have a mailbox for things like newspapers.  Tuesday, as I went out to look, something made me look in the box.  Sure enough, there were Monday, and Tuesday’s papers, and so it continued for two weeks.

One time, at the auto-parts plant, I was invited to join the Labor team who would negotiate a new contract.  I politely declined.  It takes a particular type of person, and my boredom level is quickly reached.  Diplomacy is also defined as tact, or restraint, or good manners.  Like diplomats, people who negotiate Labor contracts have to get used to repeatedly saying ‘nothing’, for days, weeks, even months, until finally someone cracks.

One year, we mistakenly elected a big ‘Buffalo Biker’ as union president, to lead the team. We thought that he would frighten the opposition.  He screamed and yelled and stomped around the room, and pounded on tables….but, that’s not the way you successfully negotiate.  It was the worst contract we ever attained.  😳

Flash Fiction #15

antique-desk

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inheritance

He went to visit Grandpa again.  As he had for almost a year, he’d ply him with beers, and impress him with how great a guy he was.  Surely he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Come in Rob.  I just finished writing up my will.  I’ll get us some Coors.”

Quick, while he’s out, read it.

“The house is on reverse mortgage.  The bank gets it when I’m gone.  Being of sound mind, I spent it all.  To my grandson Robert:  Stop waiting for it to fall in your lap.  Go get a job.”

 

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