Flash Fiction #176

Serenity

PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

SERENITY

He loved going for a walk, or sitting, in the graveyard beside his house, for solitude or inspiration as he worked on his book.  The residents were quiet and well-behaved, so unlike his redneck neighbors on the other side.

Bitch, bitch, bitch;
Your grass is too long…. So he mowed it.
I’m on the night shift this week. You woke me.
And that harpy wife of his – nude back yard sunbathing??! – on a street of two-story houses.  😯
That was a sight that couldn’t be unseen.  Claimed she had an 18-year-old’s body, but got it all wrinkled.

They get my goat.

***

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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Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

confession-box

Three couples are trying to get married at the same church. There is a young couple, a middle-aged couple, and an elderly couple. The three couples meet with the priest and discuss when they can get married. ”If you wish to get married in my church, you must all go one month without having sex,” says the priest.

One month later the three couples return to the church and talk to the priest. He then asks the elderly couple, “Have you completed the month with sex?” ”Yes we have, it was easy,” replies the elderly couple.”

”How about you?” He asks the middle-aged couple. ”It was hard, but we didn’t have sex for the whole month,” they respond.

”And how about you two?” He asks the young couple.  ”No, we couldn’t do it,” responds the boyfriend.  ”Tell me why,” says the priest. ”Well my girlfriend had a can of corn in her hand and she accidentally dropped it. She bent over to pick it up and that’s when it happened. ”The priest then tells them, “You’re not welcome in my church.” ”We’re not welcome in the supermarket either.” says the boyfriend.

***

LITTLE SHEET HEADS

Two Syrian refugees compete to see who can become the most ‘American’ in three weeks.  After three weeks the Syrians meet again at a McDonalds. The first Syrian makes his case for him being more American by saying: “Every day I have taken my son to softball practice and my daughter to ballet. I just purchased my first car and it is a Chevy El Camino. I’ve recently started listening to Toby Keith and Lynyrd Skynyrd and my favorite football team is the Dallas Cowboys. Beat that!” The other Syrian simply replies with: “Get out of my country, you fucking towelhead.”

***

Yesterday I had an appointment to see the urologist for a prostate exam. Of course I was a bit on edge because all my friends have either gone under the knife or had those pellets implanted

The waiting room was filled with patients.

As I approached the receptionist’s desk, I noticed that she was a large unfriendly woman who looked like a Sumo wrestler.

I gave her my name, and in a very loud voice, she said, 

“YES, I HAVE YOUR NAME HERE. YOU WANT TO SEE THE DOCTOR ABOUT IMPOTENCE, RIGHT?

All the patients in the waiting room snapped their heads around to look at me, a now very embarrassed man. But as usual, I recovered quickly, and in an equally loud voice replied,

“NO, I’VE COME TO INQUIRE ABOUT A SEX CHANGE OPERATION, BUT I DON’T WANT THE SAME DOCTOR THAT DID YOURS.”

The room erupted in applause!

***

For all the ladies who have to drive alone….

“I had a flat tire on the highway yesterday; so, I pulled over, got out of the car and opened my trunk.

I took out my cardboard men, unfolded them and stood them at the rear of my car facing oncoming traffic. They look so lifelike you wouldn’t believe it!

Just as I had hoped, cars started slowing down looking at the men, which made it much safer for me to work on the side of the road.

People honked and waved, and it wasn’t long before a police car pulled up behind me.

He wanted to know what the heck I was doing so I calmly explained that I was changing my flat. He told me he could see that, but demanded to know what the heck my cardboard men were doing standing at the rear of my car.

I couldn’t believe he didn’t know! So I told him …

Well, I explained to the angry Policeman …

They’re my Emergency Flashers!!!!

Emergency Flashers

I go to court next week.

(Damn Police. No sense of humor.)

***

What a Bunch Of Boobs

Aghast

It’s been a summer of bare breasts in Canada – and outrage, and complaints, and moral entitlement.

It started a couple of weeks ago, in Guelph, ON. An 8-year-old girl at the splash pad of a municipal pool was told by a teenage male attendant, that she had to put a top on. The pool’s rules insisted on it for any female over 4. Her mother was aghast, and angry, that she had been discriminated and sexualized.

The next day, with a lawyer’s aid, and serious discussion with various local bureaucrats, it was admitted that a public pool had no legal right to enact such a rule. In a spin-doctor defense of the life-guard, the Recreational Department claimed that he was probably just trying to prevent any complaints.

This is the city where, in 1991, three 19-year-old males, returning from the park, stripped off their shirts on a hot muggy day. The 19-year-old female with them did the same, and was stopped and charged with ‘committing a lewd act.’

Angered more by the double standard than the possibility of a $170 fine, she went to court with a prepared lawyer, and what was expected to be a five minute, Pay-The-Damn-Fine hearing, turned into a two-day, he-said-she-said trial, where the language of the law was shown to be sexist, moralistic, and so sufficiently vague as to be unenforceable. It was reported that the law was in place to prevent complaints.

Suddenly, a precedent had been set, that women in Canada could legally bare their breasts in public, as long as it was not for commercial gain.

Somewhat more recently, three local sisters, in their early 20s, set out for a bicycle ride around town. On their way home at dusk, on a warm, muggy evening, they also decided to remove their shirts to get cool. Wouldn’t you know it; not one of them was wearing a bra.

They were stopped by a female police officer, who maintained eye contact, and warned them to be careful riding through some road-construction areas. Several blocks further on, they were stopped by a male police officer, who ordered them to put their shirts back on, insisting that there was a bylaw, and that police had received complaints.

When one of them denied that they were breaking any law, and another pulled out a cell-phone and started recording the proceedings, suddenly it became all about whether they had lights and bells on their bikes. They did!

The next day brought an hour-long phone-call to the Police Department, where they were put on hold three times, till someone actually found out that there is no such bylaw. They have lodged an official complaint. Why am I not surprised to find that the oldest is a Grammy-nominated singer/performer, with a career to support? Local TV, radio and newspapers were soon notified.

BC Mountie

Two young mothers in British Columbia, left the kids with the dads, and headed to the beach for an afternoon of sun, sand and freedom. They found a secluded dune, spread their towels and dropped their bikini tops. Fifteen minutes later, a young RCMP officer marched a quarter-mile across the Sahara beach in his shiny shoes, to order them to cover up, because there had been complaints.

They also are bringing an official complaint for embarrassment and harassment, because there is no bylaw prohibiting topless sunbathing.

You have to be very careful how you speak to a police officer, because they take themselves very seriously. Most don’t care about obedience to legislation; they care about social peace and quiet. It disturbs and angers me that so much time and effort is spent ‘assuaging complaints’ instead of enforcing laws. I am supremely disappointed that police officers either don’t know the laws they claim they’re enforcing, or that they intentionally lie to civilians to get their way.

Were I one of the beach ladies, I’d have been very tempted to reply that I was already obeying the law, and was not the Complaints Department. If my daughter decides that she requires an abortion, we don’t care if you and your Fundamentalist Church complain; we will obey the law that says she can have one. If the wife and I decide that divorce is a better solution to our problems than murder, we don’t care if you and the guy with the funny hat in Rome complain; we will render unto Caesar, and get one.

I know that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, but I don’t want it to be at the expense of my legal rights. There is nothing intrinsically evil or psychologically damaging about naked female breasts in public. “But what about the children??! 😯 ” Perhaps if children learned to view them as natural, and not as lures into sin, we would have less sex crime and psychiatric counselling. I know I’d be happy.  😀

#491

Heaven On Earth

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A Briton, a Frenchman and a Russian are viewing a painting of Adam and Eve frolicking in the Garden of Eden.

“Look at their reserve, their calm,” muses the Brit. “They must be British.”

“Nonsense,” the Frenchman disagrees. “They’re naked, and so beautiful. Clearly, they are French.”

“No clothes, no shelter,” the Russian points out, “They have only an apple to eat, and they’re being told this is paradise. They are Russian.”

****

Three guys were standing at the top of the Empire State Building in NYC.

The first guy says to the second, “You know, the wind currents are so strong here in NYC that one could step off the edge of the building and literally float in mid-air due to the upward thrust of the thermal air currents.”

“No way, man, you’re crazy,” said the second guy to the first. So the first guy steps off the edge of the building and just floats in mid-air for about 20 seconds and then returns to the roof of the building.

The second guy is simply thrilled and says, “Watch me do that” as he steps from the roof edge into the open air. Of course he falls like a stone straight down all the way to the waiting pavement below–SPLAT!

The third guy, who has remained quiet the entire time, leans over to the first guy and says, “You know something Superman, sometimes you can be a real asshole!”

****

A woman posts an ad in the paper that looks like this:

Looking for man with these qualifications:

  1. Won’t beat me up. 2. Won’t run away. 3. Great in bed.

She got lots of phone calls but met someone perfect at her door. The man she met said, “Hi I’m Bob. I have no arms so I won’t beat you up; I have no legs so I won’t run away.”

So the lady says, “What makes you think you are great in bed?”

To which Bob replies, “I rang the doorbell didn’t I?

****

ON THE LIGHTER SIDE

Economy is denying ourselves a necessity today, in order to buy a luxury tomorrow.

Most love triangles turn into “wreck-tangles!”

Heard in a conversation over 40 years ago:  “If they think I’m going to pay a dollar for a haircut, forget it!”

Professor: “Joe, name two pronouns.” Joe:  “Who, me?

Receptionist: Doctor, there’s an invisible man in the waiting room. Doctor: Tell him I can’t see him.

What happened to the dog that swallowed a firefly?  He barked with  de-light.

What happened to the guy who stayed up all night, wondering where the sun went, when it went down?  It finally dawned on him.

What position did Monica Lewinski have in the White House?  Missionary!

Why do blondes hate making Kool-Aid? They can’t get the six cups of water into the little envelope.

 

Yay! Olympics!

When I was about eight years old, my father bought a camper-trailer.  Unlike today’s lightweight units, this one was built like a small shed, heavy as sin.  Being trailering tyros, we took along four full-sized concrete blocks to support the corners.  Thank something, that the days of heavy, powerful cars were not past.  I don’t know how we pulled that monster, but from then till I was 14, we went somewhere every summer.

I need to clean out the paint locker at the back of my mind and offer up another story of how a small-town boy had his horizons widened a bit.  In the meantime, this story isn’t about a trip.  It’s about who we saw when our trip was interrupted.

This was the summer of 1953, or ’54.  We had been camping here and there for almost two weeks.  We were moving from north to south, somewhere just east of Toronto.  We almost reached a main east/west highway and were stopped by a Provincial Police officer.  He told us we’d have to go back and around another way, or find a place to park at the side of the road until “She” went through.  She, who??  Queen Elizabeth, of course!  He took pity on a family of campers, and told us how to get down to the little city ahead, and where to park, but insisted that we could not cross the main road until after the parade.

We followed his directions, and decided that, if we were stranded, we might as well get a vantage-point on the sidewalk.  Mom and Dad piled up at the back of the crowd.  Mom was 4’ 11”, I don’t know if she saw anything.  Dad was 6’, he might have.  I was about eight or nine.  I just insinuated myself through the crush until I was right down front.  The crowd ran right to the curb, and wasn’t allowing any room, even for a little kid, so I just stepped off the curb and stood in front.  As the Queen and Prince Philip rolled regally through town, I was only eight feet away from her.  Big F…..ng Deal!  Can we get back to camping now?

It happened again last Friday night.  The wife and I went down to the Rec room, to watch Jay Leno, and there was that damned woman interrupting my planned enjoyment again.  The Tonight show was delayed by an hour for a broadcast of the opening of the Olympic Games.  Well, it wasn’t just her.  I got to see David Beckham, a man who makes his living on dry land, row his boat up the Thames and pass off a fancy cigarette lighter to some other guy, who gave it to a passel of pre-teen arsonists, who managed to start a big fire on the ground.

Get the feeling I’m none too impressed, yet??  How observant!  Actually, as shows go, it was a decent show.  The pacing fireworks as Bend-it’s boat raced up the river, how the individual copper leaves on the ground rose on gas-pipes, to amalgamate and form the Cauldron, the fireworks that went off after the flame was lit, all of these were grand theater.  At least they went off in a timed display, not like San Diego’s 10-second, Fourth of July, boom and fizzle.  But theater was all it was.  Bread and circuses for the masses.  Proof of this is the fact that responsibility for the show was given to a Hollywood director.

Owned, sponsored and controlled by multi-national corporations, it reminded me of the movie Demolition Man.  Do you know that attendees’ clothing style was restricted and controlled?  If you were wearing a tee-shirt mentioning Pepsi-Cola, you would be prevented from entering, because Coca-Cola bought all soft-drink promotional rights?

Perhaps it’s because I learned early that I can’t compete, but I’ve always been more of a fan of co-operation.  For every competition, there’s only one winner, and all the rest of 203 countries, are just a bunch of losers.  It’s all just a feel-good societal ego sop.  Millions of dollars poured into each country’s athletes’ training and transportation.  Tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of hours spent training for this soap opera, and when it’s all over, even if “we” garner a few fake medals, not a job has been created, our GNP has not increased, nor the national debt reduced, and banks still need bailing.

Us vs. Them prevails.  Tribalist chest thumping.  I wouldn’t be so cynical if people watched simply to see top-level athletic performance.  They’ll tell you that’s why they watch, but, the same folks who haven’t even driven past a swimming pool in the last four years, are suddenly experts on synchronized three-meter diving.

These games are supposed to promote international fellowship but their very competitive format prevents it.  It all boils down to, “Our team doctor is better at masking performance-enhancing drugs than your team doctor.”

Some of the “sports” that are getting in are just ridiculous.  One person synchronized swimming?  I could send over a dictionary so they can look up the meaning of synchronized.  And the little girls running around on gym mats, waving sticks with ribbons on them??!  Are they just so chi-chi that they got kicked out of drum-majorette school?  Trampoline?!  I thought the kids down the street were just playing.  Good Lord, what’s next, Tiddly-Winks and pie baking?

Ah well, it is the middle of the summer, and there’s almost nothing else on television.  Everyone can watch what they want but, I don’t watch chick-flicks.  If I watch something by a big movie director, it better have some adult language, rock-‘em-sock-‘em Kung Fu action, car chases, explosions, and maybe a little gratuitous nudity in it.  Why is Victoria fully clothed??!

I’ve kept my eyes tightly closed for a week now.  It’s half-way over.  Soon I won’t have to worry about this meaningless display for another four years.  What’s that??  What Winter Olympics in two years??  Will it include competitive Sno-Cone Serving?  Where’s a good movie when I need one?