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Flash Friday Finnegan's Wake, by Gordon Lawrie

11/9/2015

In homage to (arguably) the most unreadable book in the English language.

me another glass – bejesus! what the fliberdub wuz that, mixing the pocheen with Guinness and silver polish, sure ‘twas a fine thing and the dancin merry but now let me lay me poor poor aching head I need to rest awhile and sleep and sleep but what was that it seems all dark and where am I and what the fliberdub is all that racket and they’ll all be drinkin and dancin except me – what! you say this a wake for me? but I’m not –I was just asleep dead drunk – and I’m up and doin’ and parched so pass

Umami Wars, by Jane Tulloch

11/9/2015

Rudolph had never liked cheese despite or perhaps because of his mother’s many attempts to help him to see the cheese focused light. She tried her hardest to tempt him, to train his taste buds to savour the salty pleasures of Cheddar, Brie, Wensleydale, Manchego and all the infinite variety of dairy solids available- to no avail.

Increasingly desperate, she upped her efforts to add more cheese to life. The last straw was when she produced a beautiful box of chocolates. She blew it when she urged him to try the triangular one which turned out to be Gorgonzola flavoured.

Happy Birthday Tom, by Emma Baird

11/9/2015

Tom had never thought there was a woman for him. It wasn’t that he was a particularly ugly or unpleasant individual – time and circumstances always seemed to conspire against him.

He met a wonderful woman. On the brink of going off to university at the other end of the country.

He got introduced to an amazing girl at work – of course, she was happily married. These scenarios had happened repeatedly.

Finally though, the stars had aligned and love was in his sights. Wonderful woman. His location. Unmarried.

The stars sighed. Tom’s 80th birthday was going to be very special.

All In Love Is Queer, by Amy Friedman

10/9/2015

Amy misread Marilyn's title and this emerged...

“All in love is queer.”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t there a song lyric like that?”
“Nooo … I think you’re thinking of Stevie Wonder.”
“Huh?”
“His song, ‘All in love is fair.’”
“Not queer?”
“Nah. The song’s from the 60s. I don’t people said ‘queer’ like that back then.”
“Like how?”
“To mean gay.”
“Some people did, I’ll bet.”
“Maybe. I don’t think Stevie did. He didn’t write about gay back in the day.”
“Yeah, and gay didn’t mean gay back in the day – it meant ‘happy’.”
“Can you imagine Pharrell singing “Because I’m Gay”?
“That would so not fly … “

All Love Is Queer, by Marilyn Freedman

8/9/2015

They said, “I’m non-binary, so all love is queer,” and smiled.

I thought: What an odd word to use for love.

I didn’t see them for a long time.

I said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said—for you, all love is queer.

You’re sensitive—I’ve read your poems. You see the beauty in all things. And you’re young, so beauty leads to love and love to desire. I looked at the cuts on their arms. One pain to drive out another. A new one had obviously been stitched.

They shrugged, all the answer I was likely to get.

All In The Name Of Convenience, by Alison McHarg

8/9/2015

Lift from bag to cupboard. Separate apples from pears. Assess what needs frozen, what stays in the fridge.

Where’s the bleach – surely not packed with bread?

“Did you get Mini Mars Bars?” a disembodied voice, calling from the pantry.

“That’s them next to the flour.”

“I can’t see any flowers, there is sugar, though, We didn’t need that this week.”

There isn’t time for a monologue on the vagaries of the English language…

Shopping done from a tablet. It all feels like hard work – I need a coffee – problem is, I got coffee ice cream instead. Sigh.

HRH? by Jane Tulloch

6/9/2015

The Queen stood up and, turning to her lady in waiting, requested that the crown jewels be brought to her for inspection.

“I’d like to wear the Koh-I-Noor today,” she said after some thought.

“Of course you would,” replied her attendant. “You always wear that one when your son visits.”

The Queen nodded regally and continued, “My purple gown today please.”

“That always suits you.”

The Queen glared, “Always suits you what?”

Sigh, “Always suits you, your Majesty.”

“That’s better.”

“Now if your Majesty would take your medication nicely, I’ll tell the doctor what a good girl you’ve been.”

Invasion, by Russell Conover

5/9/2015

The people were screaming as the aliens invaded. The creatures were capturing victims, attacking others, and wreaking havoc on society.

“What can we do?” Mark panted. “There has to be a way to stop them!”

“We’ve tried everything!” Allison wailed. “Nothing’s working!” Her mood changed. “Unless ... ”

She rounded up the nearby group of panicking people, and had them lure the unsuspecting invaders into a local store. One look at the monstrous size, the huge crowds, and the ... interesting ... people, and the aliens hightailed it back to their spaceship and outer space.

“Wal-Mart ... enough to scare off any intruder.” Mark smiled.

The New Complaint-Free Operating System, by Ann-Louise Truschel

5/9/2015

“Hi, Sis. I got a computer with that new WOW Operating system everybody’s raving about!”

“Not everybody. I’ve heard many complaints.”

“But, they don’t keep griping. Seems to be a learning-curve issue. I’ll boot up. Call you back if I have a problem.”

“Let me navigate around,” she says to herself. “Hmm. Doesn’t seem to be very intuitive.”

“Are you having problems?”

“Who said that?!”

“I am WOW.”

“You mean I’m talking to a computer?”

“Yes. What is the problem?”

“Your interface isn’t very user-friendly.”

“We settle all complaints immediately.”

“Terrific! What should I do?”

“Nothing. You will be vaporized.”

Breaking News From Texas, by Bobby Warner

5/9/2015

This is Brien Broge in Sour Gopher, Texas, where we bring you latest news of an invasion by aliens. Their ship is huge--like a gigantic purple bladder, and hundreds of tentacled aliens are floating down. They're gobbling up townspeople, Army troops, and a band of cowboys! Air Force planes circle but dare not fire because of the friendlies.

Wait! The aliens are spitting out the people, who suffer a few sprained ankles from the fall. The aliens are clutching their stomachs and dropping like flies. They're allergic to humans! The invasion has failed. The mothership is returning to space!

By Amy Friedman

5/9/2015

“I just got the strangest call,” he said, wonderingly.
“What was it about?” I asked.
“B.L.Z. Bub, president of Electrical Hell, wants to talk to me,” he said.
“I’m not sure you’d want to work at something called Electrical Hell,” I said. “Electrical Heaven – that might be a better fit.”
I had hoped he’d laugh, but I could hear him twisting that lock of hair he always twisted when he was anxious. I waited, my ear itching.
“This might be my last chance,” he finally said. “I’m going to have to talk to him.”
“I love you,” I said quietly.

Best Friend, by Sanjoy Dutt

4/9/2015

Teacher: "Best friends assure we sleep in peace, who's yours?"

The room was speechless.

One disciple said, "I have a clue, but my reasons first."

"Sure," the teacher responded.

"The doctor certainly wants you frightened about your sickness,
Lawyer wants you insomniac with legal concerns, Police like chasing apprehensive criminals, Electrician prefer damaged wiring to provide insomnia, Private tutor desires you restless with your child's result,
Banker favors you wakeful with bankruptcy."

"Who is the best friend?" inquisitive teacher urged.

"One who craves we have lots of wealth and sleep most harmoniously, is the Thief!"

Reinventing the Wheel, by Emma Baird

4/9/2015

Paying tribute to the wonderful people who regularly contribute to the Friday flash Fiction website and group on LinkedIn this week...

So, I’m gonna take over the world! I’m gonna create this thing that writers need. Watch me!

Trouble is, though, I’m not entirely sure what writers need. I think they need something to point out their typos. Oh yeah… spell check.

I know! I think they need someone to point out that their story is inconsistent or just rubbish. Oh yeah… online forums and trolls.

What about… the ideas factory! Oh that is genius… an ideas factory where people can come, create ideas, spark off each other and –

What? Oh flip, it already exists. The Friday Flash Fiction website!

Modern Crow, by Sanjoy Dutt

2/9/2015

On a hot summer day, a thirsty crow was searching for water. After long he found water in a narrow pot that was half filled. The crow even on extending its neck full length, could not reach the water.

He recollected how his ancestor had carried pebbles into a pot to make the water rise. In a modern clean city, he could not find rocks nearby.

He was not going to give up, he spotted the waste bin. He returned to the pot with a straw. He knows he can soon quench his thirst.

The crow updated with time!

Hoss Shaman, by Amy Friedman

1/9/2015

Amy decided to kick-start her book by throwing it to the LinkedIn crowd. Everything in black is by Amy herself.

Hoss Shaman rode into Io late one Tuesday afternoon. No one knew where he came from, but he wasn’t easy to miss. His jangling, chip-filled saddlebags were audible for miles. His trusty Clydesdale, Bandwidth, stood 19 hands at the withers, and Hoss could nearly meet him eye to eye. His holsters, packed with soldering guns, drill bits and mechanical pencils sat comfortably on his ample hips. A slipstick jutted out of his back pocket. His fingers twitched, ready to code. Through his bandoliers were threaded silver CD-ROMs, little shikuren poised to slice and dice.

He was ready for the worst.

BANDWIDTH SAVES THE DAY, by Bobby Warner

And the worst is what he got. When Hoss mounted the steps of the Hang-Nail Saloon, gargantuan Flat-Faced Floyd thrust open the swinging doors and spat a smoldering stream of Old Dead Man Tobacco juice on Hoss's new snakeskin/alligator/salamander boots, scorching them beyond repair.

"Git him, Bandwidth!" Hoss whispered out of the side of his mouth.

The trusty Clydesdale snorted ominously and swung his twenty-foot, mace-tipped tail over Hoss's head and whacked Flat-Faced Floyd plumb over to Boots-Up Hill, where he lies to this day.

"Good boy, Bandy," grunted Hoss, proceeding on into the saloon to buy everyone a drink.

Hoss headed to the saloon and threw open the doors.

The dark interior reeked of stale root beer, moldy socks, French fries, sour ice cream and taco chips. Chipslingers were corrupting motherboards and mounting hard drives, and bouncing freshly bugged laptops with glee. Microchips clattered across tabletops as cards were thrown down. Pens, pencils, chips, tiny tools and minuscule screws were strewn everywhere.

Hoss shook his head. Dang. Hack Killfile’s ugly mark was everywhere. Hoss didn’t like ugly. Especially when every eye was upon him, and he didn’t have backup.

But he knew he had to forge ahead.

“I’m lookin’ fer a Dot Matrix,” Hoss said.

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