“Somehow,” Fensterblau told Fatrack at the local hangout, “We didn’t rate an invitation to a party this New Year’s.”
“I don’t care,” his sidekick replied. “‘The Twilight Zone’ annual marathon’s on. I’d rather party with Orson Bean, Inger Stevens, Chloris Leachman, Andy Devine and Billy Mumy anyway.”
They agreed to spend the weekend drinking coffee and watching one of their favorite shows.
“First we buy five pounds of coffee here, and then we get a few cases of junk food over at Associated, and were all set,” Fatrack intoned.
They couldn’t have been happier. The new year started well.
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff~Fields for taking charge of our weekly Friday Fictioneers and our hundred~word stories. This week’s photo prompt is from Jean L. Hays
“Oh I just can’t stand it when my wife goes shopping at those crazy underground shops in Greenwich Village and Union Square,” moaned Clem to his friend Basil.
“Ever year she goes Christmas shopping there and buys all kinds of fruity things,” he whined.
“This year she got me a magnum of Slovenian blueberry liqueur.”
“I understand she means well,” he went on. “It’s just that sometimes the especially offbeat gifts have quite a terrifying effect upon me, as I was just explaining to that cat a few days ago.”
“What cat?!” asked Basil. “I don’t see a cat!”
Each week Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us in Friday Fictioneers, an attempt to write a hundred~word story base upon a photograph prompt. This week’s prompt is supplied by Scott L. Vannatter.
Source: O Sapientia
“Merry Christmas, Mommy!” shouted out tiny Tim as his mother was preparing to wash the dishes.
“Same to you, honey, though it’s still Advent,” Mrs. Bailey happily replied.
“I really miss the days of white Christmases, don’t you, George?”
“Oh, Mary,” he reminded her, “That’s because you never have to drive or to shovel.”
“Bad weather, presents, Santa, and egg nog, believe it or not, aren’t the most important things about Christmas,” he continued.
“I hope Timmy enjoys all he has now,” she went on. “Once he stops believing in Santa, it’s all socks and underwear from then on.”
This week’s photo prompt was supplied by Rochelle Wisoff~Fields, who weekly takes charge of our Friday Fictioneers, an attempt at writing a hundred~word story based upon a picture.
Prince Galen of Nanonesia, upon the death of his father, was to become king. There was one catch though: He must spend a night in a room with a fake chicken and not knock it down.
Having always been a klutz, he was terrified.
The ordeal was to last from midnight on Friday until midnight on Saturday.
Having nothing much to do he played his accordion, called his girlfriend and kept busy as well as possible.
The time still dragged.
At 11:58 on Saturday, he got curious about a reflection on the floor, stretched a bit to see it. Uh-oh.
Each Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us on our quest to write a short story of only one hundred words, Friday Fictioneers, based upon a photograph. This week’s photo prompt was supplied by Luther Siler.
“Hey Ophelia,” the terrified psychiatric patient asked the new nurse at Good Samaritan Hospital. “What’s that room outside for?”
“Never mind, Mr. Schmedlap,” she chided him.
Young pretty Ophelia, a recent graduate, specializing in psychiatric nursing, knew all about the kinds of patients who ended up in those separate rooms, isolated from all the rest.
“Just relax, Sir,” she advised, “And read your Newsday.”
In her imagination she couldn’t help wondering, “Will he be one of those people I keep hearing about?”
“Only time will tell,” she thought.
She went about her rounds. He kept busy. They both waited and hoped.
Each week Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us in Friday Fictioneers. Please read our hundred~word stories. This week’s photo prompt was supplied by Roger Bultot.