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Dialog, by Jane Reid

31/7/2015

Her: What do you want to do today?
Him: I don’t know. Any ideas?
Her: I might pick up some dishcloths.
Him: Can you do that at the hardware store?
Her: Uh, well, yes, I guess so.
Him: Good, that’s right on the way to the Post Office.
Her: Oh, did you want to go to the Post Office?
Him: Might as well, as long as we’re going to the hardware store.
Her: We don’t have to go to the hardware store. Why do our trips always turn into your errands?
Him: But I thought you wanted dishcloths.

An Editor's Lament, by Amy Friedman

31/7/2015

“What in the heck are you muttering about?”
“Illiterate copy.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Hideous. People can’t write.”
“That’s not news.”
“Yeah. I fix it, make it look good and make it make sense.”
“So?”
“They get the credit for content that’s sooooo well done.”
“And you?”
“I toil anonymously. Make silk purses out of sow’s ears. Ink-stained wretch, c'est moi.”
“Who uses ink anymore? Everyone writes and edits on computers.”
“No shit.”
“Well, at least you like what you do.”
“I really should set up a Lucy stand. ‘Edits while you wait.’”
“Five cents?”
“No way. Show me the money!”

A Competition, by Sanjoy Dutt

31/7/2015

Nick handed a paper to the editor, “Proposed fund raiser.”

Editor, after reading, “A competition?”

Nick, “With an entry fee of $25.”

“Give away is $2500 as first prize, there are many more.”

“Big prize attracts more participants.”

“How many will enter?” Editor asked.

“Social sites are packed with writers, bloggers will spread widely in sites, Expect minimum 1500 entries that raises $37500.” Nick smiled.

“Expenses?”

“A few thousand bucks.”

“Winners?”

“Picked from the ghost writers, they don’t get prizes.”

“Scam!” Editor exclaimed.

“The world has too many aspiring writers, few readers, this will work.”

Editor smiled, “Okay, I’ll think.”

25 Shades, by Gordon Lawrie

31/7/2015

Suddenly, she broke away from their embrace, lowering her eyes.

“I need you to do it,” she whispered. “Now.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, tilting her face back up to make her look at him. “It’ll hurt.”

“There’s no other way, Christian.”

He breathed deeply. “Turn around, Anastasia, remove your top.” She did as instructed: as expected, bra-less. He touched her soft skin.

“Do it, Christian. Now.”

He acted, she winced, said nothing at first, then simply, ‘Thank you’.

“I know your back itches,” he said, “but do we need the theatre?”

“It’s more fun this way,” she smiled, mischievously.

Friday #amwriting, by Emma Baird

31/7/2015

“How are you getting on with your writing today?”

Oh, the dreaded question asked as always by a person with no empathy or understanding of how the creative mind works!

So far, I have used desperation as my inspiration – or more likely, scraping the bottom of the barrel. The Great British Bake Off inspired a crude comparison of certain products with cakes. The rest has been nicked from various websites, the Huffington Post, Wikipedia and the Guardian among them.

“Fine.”

“Good. Another two articles and I’ll pay you.”

I sigh, get imaginative with my search engine queries and carry on.

By Amy Friedman

30/7/2015

Originally a lost soul from the Group Grope section...

Bingo World was hopping tonight – almost every seat was taken. Carrying Dierdre’s Ecstacy-laced drink, I plunked myself down beside her.
“Get out of that seat, you mangy bugger!” she yelled. “That’s Dolores’ seat!”
“She ain’t here, right?” I said, placing her drink on the table. “And why can’t I sit next to me wife?”
I braced myself for a solid whap on the noggin with her purse. Fortunately, she was intent on her cards.
“Got you a fresh drink, I did,” I said to her.
“Go on,” she muttered, lifting the glass for a sip.
“Bingo,” I whispered to myself.

By Amy Friedman

30/7/2015

A subtle breeze curled around the terrace, puffing Caroline’s thin jacket slightly. She flapped her arms, trying to generate more air. “Ugh, I’m sweating,” she moaned. “It’s SO hot!”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, standing up. “Let me get you a cold drink.”
“What do you have?” she said.
“We’ve got tons left over from Sunday – diet cola, fizzy water, lemon soda – take your pick,” I said.
“Seltzer. Gotta have seltzer,” she said.
I zipped into the kitchen and cracked open the bottle of Pellegrino. No reason for her to know I wasn’t using a schpritz bottle.

Elisa Revisited, by Bobby Warner

25/7/2015

"Surely you're not going down that filthy rabbit hole again," said Elisa's mother.

"Oh, I must, Mumsey. Jon is waiting for me. We're going riding his new carriage, and he's going to buy me a dozen new dresses."

"Jon? Who's Jon? Elisa, you mustn't trust a stranger."

"Mr. Jon Swift. He's the dearest man who lives in a gigantic house on the Red Queen's estate and has scads of money. But he's very lonely and needs a wife."

"Rich, eh? He sounds like a nice man. Come on, Elisa, I'm going down the rabbit hole with you this time!"

The Landing, by Russell Conover

25/7/2015

“Captain! Our landing is in danger. I can’t see a thing!”
“What? What the blazes is going on?”
“All I see is this reddish haze. It’s been here for at least half an hour.”
“Well, keep going. We HAVE to complete our trip.”
“Whoa! The ground’s right there. And it looks like it’s covered in flowing ice!”
“OW! That bump hurt. Did we land? And why are we skidding?”
“I’m not sure. I guess this ice isn’t great for smooth landings.”
“Well, stop us!”
“I’m trying!
“Whew. We stopped, and we’re here.”
“Last time I land a spacecraft on Pluto.”

Inspiration, by Eric Smith

24/7/2015

“I just wrote a short fiction piece that’s not really fiction.”

“Meaning?”

“I changed everyone’s name.”

“It’s still nonfiction, then, unless you changed the plot and characters to the point that women became men, vice versa, and the ending changed.”

“Yeah, I did that, changed the setting, added characters, and turned others into composites.”

“I think your piece is ‘based on a true story.’”

“Also, it took place a hundred years earlier, and the characters would never recognize themselves or the events that took place.”

“So you were inspired by something that actually happened.”

“Okay.”

“Then maybe it was fiction.”

The Helpful Neighbor, by Ann-Louise Truschel

24/7/2015

“May I help you with those suitcases?”

“How nice of you!”

“Didn’t you just move in?”

“I’m going on a world cruise! I’m so excited! I hope I have enough clothes.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. You must have a dozen suitcases.”

“The cruise line said ‘no limit.’ Thanks for loading my van.”

She drives off. A few minutes later, a car drives up, and a woman gets out and walks to the door.

“She just left,” says the helpful neighbor.

“Who?”

“My new neighbor.”

“I’m your new neighbor!”

She runs inside and screams, “She stole all my clothes and jewelry!”

Best Creation, by Sanjoy Dutt

24/7/2015

The black birds became violent and snapped at anyone who sat on our back deck.

Even our cats were not spared.

We discovered the black bird’s nest high on the Magnolia tree, in our yard.

A few days later suddenly their wining and violence stopped
.
We were relieved but wondered, why?

One night with no breeze, noise of leaves flickering comes from the Magnolia tree.

A giant Possum climbing down the tree, had driven the black birds away.

The animal world still depends on size and strength of muscle.

Only humans, God’s best creation, rule with their head.

Destination Unknown, by Emma Baird

24/7/2015

The Brunton family holiday usually consisted of a couple of weeks in a static caravan on the coast.

As there were a lot of them, this arrangement was the only one that worked. This year, though, a mystery benefactor had stepped in. Mrs Brunton had received an email, telling her the family had won an all-expenses paid holiday abroad.

Mini Bruntons bubbled over with excitement at the idea of a sunshine holiday. “Where are we actually going?” Mrs Brunton asked as they boarded.

“Ah well, the journey might take a while,” the steward answered. “We’re off to Kepler 452b.”

Photoshoot, by Gordon Lawrie

24/7/2015

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” said the photographer, getting ready.

“I mean it,” she insisted from behind her mahogany desk. “I’ll break the camera. I always do.”

“Look, your company wants publicity photographs of all new Board members. Smile, please!”

Something tinkled quietly. Dismayed, the photographer realised his upmarket Canon’s lens had shattered. He tried a Nikon, then his beloved Leica. Same thing, each destroyed.

“Told you,” said the woman. “I’m ugly.”

The photographer looked; she might be right, though it would be wrong to say so. But in the end the company settled for an artist’s line sketch.

See You In The Funny Papers, by Eric Smith

20/7/2015

Joe and Matt ordered another round.

Matt stared at Joe. “What’s the difference between politeness and tact?”

“Well, Matt, let’s say you bump into a woman who’s coming out of the men’s room. If you say ‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ that’s polite. If you say, ‘Excuse me, sir,’ that’s tactful.

“Yeah, Joe, but what if you intuit that the woman you bump into self-identifies as a man?”

“That’s easy. Just say ‘excuse me.’”

Matt drained his schooner. “Okay, Joe, but is that politeness or tact?”

“Who gives a shit.”

“Jeez, I’m glad I’m not you, man.”

“Right back at ya’, pal.”

Golf On Pluto, by Len Nourse

18/7/2015

Serf Efriken physicists have solved the problem of gravity on Pluto and golf. Next week I’m going there soon for my daughter’s wedding, and om there to play golf on Pluto. The physicists solved the problem of gravity by building a gravity field under the golf course. The surface of Pluto, and thus the courses, has an underlying metal layer that is easily charged to create a magnetic field. Since that time golfers from various planets are now flocking to Pluto. To travel there using thought speed takes but a few split seconds. Thought speed is another invention of these physicists.

Golfing Excitement, by Russell Conover

18/7/2015

“Man--is that darned Open still going on?”
“Yep. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Seriously? YOU like golf?”
“Hey--I’ve played all my life!”
“And you haven’t permanently gone to sleep yet?”
“At least this Open’s more interesting, now that it’s been moved to Pluto.”
“Oh, yeah? How so?”
“For starters, they can’t keep golf balls on the ground. No gravity.”
“So what do they do?”
“For one thing, all the holes are now in the air.”
“Wait. What?”
“And the players fly while hitting, too. Wild.”
“Cut me a slice of that!”
“Really. We gotta hit Pluto for some golfing fun.”

Sweet Solution, by Jane Reid

18/7/2015

Nancy put in a frantic call to her travel agent.
“Have you made that reservation for Pluto yet? I want to cancel it.
“Why?” asked that agent. “Did something happen?”
“No. I’m all right. But I heard you can’t play golf on Pluto after all. I heard the Plutonians eat all the golf balls.”
“Yes, that was a problem, the agent replied. “But it’s solved now. We have a repellent, safe for Earthlings, which makes the balls seem actually repulsive to Plutonians.”
“Sounds powerful. Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Perfectly safe. We just take the balls and chocolate-coat them.”

Motivating Employees, by Sanjoy Dutt

17/7/2015

Theoretically management generates system for high efficiency.
Factually management is an upside down process created to govern employees through planning, organizing and controlling.
Profitability is measured by more productive with fewer humans.
Increased net income means more incentive and better raise for the managers.
An employee goes into the restroom, sitting on the toilet seat he interprets this motivational message newly put on the wall,
“With more such pressure at work, the company’s target would have been accomplished today.”
The employee replied below, “Such pressure always results in shit.”
Successful management tries best to get along with people.

Motivating Employees, by Sanjoy Dutt

17/7/2015

Theoretically management generates system for high efficiency.

Factually management is an upside down process created to govern employees through planning, organizing and controlling.

Profitability is measured by more productive with fewer humans.

Increased net income means more incentive and better raise for the managers.

An employee goes into the restroom, sitting on the toilet seat he interprets this motivational message newly put on the wall, “With more such pressure at work, the company’s target would have been accomplished today.”

The employee replied below, “Such pressure always results in shit.”

Successful management tries best to get along with people.

A Fantastic Offer, by Emma Baird

17/7/2015

Everyone turned to look at the Plutonian Golf Open Championship 2015 manager, askance.

She shifted uncomfortably. Time for a little management improvisation.

She clapped her hands. “To me, everyone!” pressing a finger to her ear and an imaginary ear phone.

“Oh wow, really? Mr Speith that’s great news. I’ll get on to it straight away.”

“OK,” the manager explained. “Turns out Mr Speith is offering ordinary Plutonians the chance to caddy for him at the Scottish Open on Planet Earth!”

The crowd gasped.

The manager sighed, relieved. Let them find out later that Plutonians and too much water were incompatible.

The Plutonian Open Golf Championship, by Gordon Lawrie

17/7/2015

There was – by Plutonian standards – great excitement as the Plutonian Golf Open Championship approached. Golf was relatively new to the planet, developed initially for Neptunian holidaymakers.

However, ten years previously sponsors funded an annual Plutonian Open, and this year the whole planet was buzzing with excitement over rumours that the new Earth wunderkind, Jordan Spieth, was going to take part. Success on Pluto would complete the Solar Grand Slam, and crowds lined up in the streets to await his arrival by the spaceship New Horizons.

There was therefore great disappointment when the craft flew on past the planet without landing...

The Pluto Open, by Ann-Louise Truschel

17/7/2015

“It’s so exciting – being here for the Pluto Open! I’m thrilled.”

“I’d really expected something quite different.”

“But a major golf tournament, and on another planet – even a dwarf planet!”

“That was my thought originally. But now, it looks like we’ll be here forever. I don’t think this tourney will EVER end.”

“It’s slow to be sure, and they do have to start the tee-offs over and over again. But you must admit the putting is anything but boring. In fact, it’s unique.”

“It’s unique if they complete the putts at all!”

“Well, who knew Plutonians like to eat golfballs?

A Day At The Office, by Amy Friedman

17/7/2015

What was THAT?
You think I know? She sounded like two different people.
Try four. That’s how many I heard.
So do you think she said yes?
I can’t tell.
Neither can I.
Lord. She was bringing in everything including the kitchen sink.
Yeah. Ridiculous.
I need that Bang Head Here sign.
Is that like a round tuit?
Hah! Maybe.
So how do you think we should proceed?
Well, I liked your procedure. Send me the form.
Yeah. Let me see before your finalize, OK?
Of course I will. You’re the originator.
OK, I’m on deadline. Get out of here.

Green On Dead, by Stephen Shirres

15/7/2015

Captain Dyce walks across the dead land she is responsible for. The whoosh of nuke rockets and the whizz of bombs haunt her. Incendiary fires burn her nostrils. Inside her army issue radiation suit all she can taste is filtered recycled air.

Dyce stops. In front of her is a small green plant, no more than a leaf. She wants to pluck it from the cracked ground and pit it to her radiation suit like a daisy on a summer dress. The smells and sounds of a different time return

She will destroy hope without the pyrotechnics this time.

This story first appeared on Flash! Friday's website. It was categorically written by Stephen Shirres and not, as stated earlier, by Eric Smith. Some sort of computer glitch: it's happened before but this is the first time I didn't spot it.

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