“Watch out for those boots,” Mitt warned Keef as they approached the Goblin Market. “Don’t you remember what happened to Lizzie’s sister Laura?”
“They’re a reminder of the goblins,” his friend conceded. “They’ll stop at nothing to sell us their poisonous fruits.”
“It’s odd,” the former continued, “How such ugly little fellows can make such an enchanting pitch. It just goes to show how delightful a charm the fruits can have.
They went on along their way, strolling past the local graveyard and mental institution. The goblins, in the background, continued their irresistible, incessant chant, determined to entice the locals.
It’s time, yet again, for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers . Follow the link for an explanation. Courtney Wright has supplied this week’s photo prompt.
Klindworth and Cimino were having their nightly Hot Dog Debate.
“Of the rivers in the Garden of Eden,” Klindworth explained, “The Tigris and Euphrates still exist. The Tigris represents mankind’s poisonous secular culture, and Euphrates, his poisonous government.”
“Of course,” his friend continued. “The Pishon and Gihon represent what we have lost by Original Sin.”
Throughout their argument, Wass, the weinie salesman, was understandably frustrated.
“If you want that desperately to talk about things like that,” said he, “Go over to the apple stand.”
Klindworth, ever the wise~ass, replied: “Are you sure they aren’t pomegranates, my friend?”
Rochelle takes us yet again upon our weekly Friday Fictioneers jaunt. This week’s photo prompt was provided by Jill Wisoff
Muriel and Gloria desperately wanted to see the Old Man On the Mountain.
“Ooh,” Muriel opined. “I’ll bet he’s a dead ringer for Walt Whitman. We have to remember that someone in his position is always either a hermit or a wizard, so be careful.”
Having finally met him on the mountaintop, they were in awe. “Oh, most distinguished Sir, “Gloria dared to ask him. “Won’t you kindly impart to us your wisdom?”
“I wish people would stop asking me that,” he complained. “I’m just a retired plumber. I thought I could count on peace and quiet up here.”
Welcome back yet again to Rochelle Wisoff~Fields’ Friday Fictioneers . Karen Lee Rawson supplied this week’s photo prompt. Please read our hundred~word stories.
“You’re taking quite a gamble,” Elzo reminded Ennio. “It’s never a wise move to follow the Pipes of Pan.”
“Quite true, Old Bean!” his friend admitted. “It would be wise to beware, while we’re here, all the unicorns, rainbows, and banshees, among other risks.”
“That’s true metaphorically too,” the former continued. “Everyone knows that Keats’ ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ wasn’t really just a lovely faerie nymphomaniac, but that she was a symbol of an obsession of his.”
“We can relax here for a while and go home better able to deal with life’s unicorns, rainbows, and banshees.”
Welcome back yet again to Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle leads us weekly through our hundred~word story. This week her husband Jan W. Fields has supplied the photo prompt.
Ever the instigator, Larabie couldn’t help wanting to annoy Miz Kitti.
“Wow!” he opined, “Those clouds have quite a lot of dord!” Trying to act as if she had a clue, his befuddled friend nodded assent.
For days at a time he used the word whenever it was appropriate, and she never got it. All the while, she played along, though she was a wreck, wondering how could she not know what it means.
For weeks at a time he played the game and his sidekick humored him. Day after day she politely plotted her vengeance, thinking “Mbwahahah!!!”
“That’s funny,” Robert Frost told Emily Dickinson. “I was twelve years old when you died. How can we be together now?”
“That’s true,” she conceded, “but this happens every time our author hears Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Dangling Conversation.’ “
“O now I remember,” the former conceded. “The line: ‘..and you read your Emily Dickinson/and I my Robert Frost’ always has freaked him out.
“Language, symbolism in general,” the Belle of Amherst proceeded to explain, “always inspire people. Anyway we only have a short time here. Chuck McCann has recently died so our author will be reminiscing constantly about his childhood.”
Welcome back yet again to Rochelle’s weekly Friday Fictioneers, a hundred~word story based upon a photo prompt. This week’s prompt has been supplied by Yardspinnerr
Yet again Harriet nagged Chester into doing something avant~garde.
“Honey,” he complained, ” I know you enjoy keeping track of the latest developments in jazz, but this place is simply too modernist and new age for an old square like me.”
“I’ll admit it’s a little off~putting,” she conceded.
“I really miss the beatnik days,” he swooned.
“The beatnik era was all about forging ahead anyway,” she reminded him.
“And after their having forged enough,” he intoned wistfully, “I was quite satisfied.”
“The King of Squaresville has spoken,” she admitted. “We’ll do it your way next time.”
“Here’s the park where famous threesomes, real and fictional, congregate,” Ralph told Sam, to the latter’s incredulity.
“Oh yeah,” Ralph went on. “They have Stooges, Wise Men, Blind Mice, Musketeers~you name it.“
“In their world they have a weird sense of humor, so often the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, or the Magnificent Seven, will try to sneak in.”
“Naturally,” Sam admitted. “I especially like the Three Witches from ‘MacBeth.'”
“Don’t let their cutesy rhymes fool you,” Ralph warned. “They can be trouble.”
“Oh, absolutely!” Sam conceded.
This went on for a while as Sam continued to listen politely.
Here we are, yet again, for Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle leads us weekly in our hundred~word story based upon a photo prompt. This week’s prompt has been provided by Fatima Fakir Deria
“Here’s what let’s do,” Mitt told Keef. “We’ll make a movie about a meeting, after death, between Billy Graham and Stephen Hawking.”
“Yeah!” his sidekick gasped. “Picture it: ‘Good day, Doctor,’ each says politely. They then proceed to have a rousing debate about exactly what’s in the adjoining room.”
“Suddenly a sonorous voice pronounces over the loud speaker: ‘Graham, William Franklin…Hawking, Stephen William.’ “
“The tension is unbearable,” the former explained. “They can’t both be right.”
“Both then proceed toward an ultimate verdict. Let’s not tell people how it ends, though.”
“Yeah,” his friend concurred. “Make ’em think a bit.”
