Poor Choice Of Words

“What’s that?” Clem asked Floyd.

 

“Every time Super Genius Myrtle tells me how she’s decided I have to change,” his friend said, “I write it in the form of  a New Year’s resolution and put it into the jar.”

 

 

“Way I see it,” he went on, “that way it makes its point, is inconspicuous, and makes such a pretty appearance, the way I’d like her to be.”

 

 

“Why’d she storm out of the house in such a nasty mood?”  Clem asked.

 

 

“I made a slight error in judgment,” Floyd admitted.  “I told her exactly that, in exactly those very words.”

 

 

Welcome back to Rochelle’s weekly Friday Fictioneers, although it technically starts on Wednesday.

 

 

This week’s photo comes from Priya Bajpal .  The Christmas season isn’t over just yet and the year is still fairly new, so a merry and happy  both is in order.

Annunci

Interesting Wordplay

Lawrence, Freddy, Fanny, and Janet played Scrabble every Wednesday night.  They noticed, one Wednesday, though, that odd things were happening.

 

 

Lawrence spelled the word “Symphony”.  Suddenly an orchestra knocked on their door and played a Beethoven medley for them.

 

 

Stunned, Fanny spelled “Anchovy”.  Immediately a delivery man arrived with a seafood dinner for each of them.  Though they enjoyed the surprise, they were still upset.

 

 

It was Freddy’s turn, so he played along.   Confused, he spelled “Desert.”  Lo and behold, they were stranded in a barren wasteland.

 

 

Finally, Janet said, “Hey, here’s another ‘S’.  Let’s have some dessert.”

 

 

Once again it’s time for Rochelle’s  Friday Fictioneers.  Russell Gayer  has supplied this week’s photo prompt for one and all to enjoy.   Happy 2019, of course!

 

 

 

Be Careful What You Ask For

Uncle Buford was the Fensterblaus’ official family raconteur.  Most of his kin admitted tacitly that ‘raconteur’ was a polite euphemism for liar.

 

 

They all loved Aunt Eunice, though, so they humored her by honoring her request to visit his grave annually on his birthday and anniversary.

 

 

” I done tol’ y’all the ol’ coot was plum full of horse pucky,”  Cousin Dorothy Jane told Cousin Maudie Mae in a prudently hushed voice during their last visit.

 

 

“What y’all mean?” Maudie asked.

 “‘Member he always said,” the former claimed, ‘May a goat pee on my grave if’n’ I’s lyin’?”

 

 

Joyeux Noel, Buon Natale, Feliz Navidad, and Nollaig Shona.   Welcome back to Rochelle’s

 

Friday Fictioneers.   This week’s photo prompt has been supplied by Randy Mazie   .

Truth In Advertising

Mildred and Arthur were overly conscious of their looks.   They were always shopping for new and improved ways to keep up their appearance.

 

 

They finally found something they both could really like, a French cream, that promised to take an entire decade off their looks.  When it came in the mail they were ecstatic.

 

 

They made sure to set it aside, on their favorite counter, where nothing could possibly happen to it.

 

 

There was a bit of a problem though.

 

 

Their ever~curious son, nine~year~old Ralph, got his hands on it.  It lived up to its promise.

 

 

Welcome back as Rochelle and we all take another chance at Friday Fictioneers.   Regular Adam Ickes has given us this week’s photo.

The End Of the World

“Clare, from St. Mary’s book group, always makes us read post~apocalyptic novels,”  Teddy told Howard.

 

 

“Which ones?” his friend asked.

 

 

So far we’ve read ‘The Road’,  ‘The Shack’, and ‘Station Eleven’, the former said.  “They really make you think.”

 

 

“Yes,” Howard said.  At least pre~historic man didn’t know what he was missing.  It’s all about the apple, Pandora’s Box, no turning back.

 

 

“Like it or not,” he continued, “each of us is enslaved by time and change.  Those books have really opened my eyes.”

 

 

Then they both went back to reading their e mail and listening to Pandora.

 

 

Welcome back to Rochelle’s  Friday Fictioneers.  Douglas M. MacIlroy  has supplied this week’s photograph.

The Train

It was a perfect autumn

afternoon in Pittston.  Elmer and Albert were taking their daily walk.  

“That freight train’s been passing through, precisely this time each day, since before World War I,” Albert said.

“Our parents, and grandparents, grew up with it.  It’s a legend.  Local folk even set their watches by it.

“That’s nice,” his friend said, “but I have a bit of a  problem with it.  We have no passenger trains, or other public transportation, anywhere near here.

“How is that bad?” Albert asked.

“For one thing,” Elmer moaned, ” I don’t have a car.”

Welcome back to https://rochellewisoff.com/ ‘s Friday Fictioneers.  This week, https://lingeringvisions.wordpress.com/

Dawn M. Miller provides our fab photo prompt.

Brave, Courageous, And Bold

Hildegarde had always been notoriously anxious. Finally she resolved to conquer her fear.

 It was the traditional dark and stormy night, when she sat down to watch a ‘Dark Shadows’ marathon.

From the very instant Victoria Winters introduced the first episode, Hildegarde’s heart and pulse beat hysterically.

In advance, she warned everyone not to call or to visit.  She attempted to persevere as the torrential rain and wind drove her to seeming madness.

For a while, all went well.  There was, however, one small catch: She had forgotten to account for the squeaky hinges on her doors.

 Welcome back, as we take another trip through  https://rochellewisoff.com/

Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.  Nick  Allen has so graciously provided this week’s photo prompt.

Brave, Courageous, And Bold

Hildegarde had always been notoriously anxious. Finally she resolved to conquer her fear. 

It was the traditional dark and stormy night, when she sat down to watch a ‘Dark Shadows’ marathon.

From the very instant Victoria Winters introduced the first episode, Hildegarde’s heart and pulse beat hysterically.

In advance, she warned everyone not to call or to visit.  She attempted to persevere as the torrential rain and wind drove her to seeming madness.

For a while, all went well.  There was, however, one small catch: She had forgotten to account for the squeaky hinges on her doors.

Woody Allen’s Alter Ego?

Harold truly believed that he was the conservative, Catholic version of a the typical Woody Allen character.


“No kidding, Margaret,” he told his wife.   “Everything I do is accompanied by explanations in Windsor font. I  always hear old jazz standards in the background, and I’m a neurotic insecure bespectacled square.


“That’s O.K., honey,” she said.  “We all enjoy your pointless pseudo~intellectual musings about the ultimate meaning of life and reality.  It might be nice, though, if you could refrain from bluffing your way out of hard problems by saying ‘La di da, La di da’ every time something comes up.”



Welcome back, people, to
https://rochellewisoff.com/

Rochelle’s ‘Friday Fictioneers’.  Please excuse the lopsided appearance of my latest post . I’m trying to get used to WordPress’ new circumstances.https://adelectablelife.com/

Dale Rogerson, one of our esteemed and distinguished regulars, has supplied this week’s photo prompt.

Poor Communication

 “I wonder what’s taking Tommy, Mack, and F.C. so long,” Charlie complained to Fred.  They said they’d leave their marks prominently displayed when they got here.”

 

 

The five old friends, having parted forty years ago due to circumstances beyond their control, had promised then that they’d get together on Veterans’ Day this year at exactly this spot, and that each would write his name where it could be easily seen.

 

 

“Maybe there’s been a mistake, or a delay because of traffic,” Fred reminded his friend, as they stood atop the boardwalk, waiting patiently for the others to arrive.

 

 

Greetings and salutations, one and all, as Rochelle , who has also so graciously supplied this week’s photo prompt, guides us through yet another Friday Fictioneers.