Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

I was eight on the rainy April day that Grandma died. She woke, served up Grandpa’s usual breakfast, fed the cat and went to the porch for the morning paper. She didn’t return. Grandpa found her reaching for the door, sharing her love for him with her eyes as she took her final breath. I knew something was wrong the minute my mother answered the phone and fell into a chair with my little brother clinging to her leg. I remember dad taking the phone from her hand but the rest of the day was a blur of hospitals, family and men in suits shoving endless forms at Grandpa. Mom put on a brave face, but cried when she thought she was alone. She wasn’t ready to lose her mom. A funeral was arranged and family gathered. All I remember after that is how sad and alone Grandpa looked.
After the funeral things went back to normal, my brother and I went to school and dad went to work. The only thing different was my mom spending her days with her father, going through legal papers and personal items. She looked tired and sad at the end of the day and I didn’t know how to make things better. Three days after the funeral I came home from school, dropped my backpack on the floor and headed to the fridge. I grabbed a soda and pudding snack before settling at the table. The house was still quiet, dad was at work, my little brother was with a sitter and mom was with her dad. I listened to the old mantle clock tick off the minutes as I mindlessly shoveled in the pudding, wondering if life would ever be normal again. Mom hadn’t even opened the mail, there was a pile at least two inches thick sitting on the table. Sliding the pile closer I picked up envelope after envelope. Credit card offer, electric bill, cable bill, val-pak coupons, sale flyers, insurance bill, nothing special. Then I saw it, the bright red envelope with my name scrolled across the front.
She remembered her heart skipping a beat as she pulled it from the pile, looking it over before she got the nerve to slide her thumb under the flap. She had never received real mail before and wanted to do it right. Proud that she had barely frayed the glued flap she slowly pulled out the contents. It  was a card. On the front was a cartoon woman with gray hair,  her freakishly long arms wrapped around a large family of children and adults, pulling them close to her. With trembling fingers she opened the card, it read “Happy Birthday! You are loved today and always.” It was simply signed “your family,” but she recognized the handwriting, it was Grandma’s. Picking up the envelope she noticed that the return address was that of her grandma’s house. Pulling the card to her chest she let herself cry for the first time since she died. It was a long, hard cry that left her drained, but the card had felt like Grandma reached out with one last hug. The rest of her family came  home, they ate dinner and she went to bed, but not before securing the card, in the envelope in her diary.
Summer came and went that year and life was a new normal. It wasn’t until fall that my mom looked sad again. When I asked her why, she said that her mom’s birthday was coming up and she didn’t know how to handle things with her dad. I thought about that a lot at school and at home. Grandpa had looked so lost lately I wanted to do something to make him feel better. Then I remembered the card. it made me feel better, maybe it would make him feel better. I raced home after school, dug out the card and put it envelope and all in a new envelope, carefully wrote out his address and took a stamp from mom’s desk. My little brother followed me to the porch.
“Where ya going?” He asked.
“To the mailbox.”
“Why?”
“To mail a letter?” I snapped.
“To who? What kind of letter?” He persisted.
“None of your business squirt!” I shouted, running the last few feet.
I remember feeling a bit bad over snapping at my brother and taking his hand on the walk home. He seemed to accept that as an apology. Days passed as I wondered if my gesture would make grandpa feel worse instead of better. Then one Saturday morning the doorbell rang, I heard Grandpa ask to see me. I entered the hall and he pulled me into his strong arms and whispered “thank you” in my ear. He said it felt like grandma had come for a visit.
That was ten long years ago, I’m nineteen years old and a lot of life had passed under the bridge since then. Family gatherings stopped, no more Christmas Eve dinners at Grandma’s, no more forced Sunday dinners, no more summer camping trips arranged by Grandma. Grandpa died two years back, I missed the funeral. My parents live their life and have all but given up on me. My little brother, set to graduate high school this year, is a computer nerd devoted to technology, there is little room for humans in his world. And me? I have a life, not the life my parents planned. I work various bar jobs, pole dance when Moe needs a fill in dancer and am not above a good night of drinking. I may or may not, use my own money to pay bills, but if a customer is dumb enough to leave  his wallet on the bar while he attends a lap dance, is that my fault?
I served another round to table four, slapped away Dwayne’s hands at table two and made my way to the kitchen. My shift was over, all I wanted to do was gather my tips, get a few drinks and head home. A few drinks turned into ten and getting home was a bit tougher that I thought. I tossed my heels into my locker, fell into my sneakers, tied what I thought was a passable bow and slapped the back door open, stumbling into the alley. I crawled to my feet as the scenery spun around. I focused on the neon drug store sign as I knew that was the direction I need to take. I stumbled down the walk, feeling good, sure I was looking normal. Sure, I bounced off the wall a few times, and into a gentleman who called me a drunk as he put me back on my feet, but I was doing ok. I went another block and found myself on my knees, my forehead on a fire hydrant. Phew, if I had fallen a second later, that could have hurt! Back on my feet I gripped the smooth window of the diner until I felt the rough brick, then turned right. Only twenty feet more and I would be home. The cement block felt rough under my fingers as I used it to guide my way. Soon I felt the splintered wood frame around my door. Diving into my pocket I fumbled my way through lip gloss, bent lottery tickets and old receipts until I found my keys. It took a few tries, but I got that sucker in the slot and the lock clicked open. I clung to the wall as I made my way up the stairs. I remember trying to put the key in the upstairs lock, but I must have failed.
A ray of morning sun, creeping through a badly cracked window cruelly pried my eyes open. I wiped the spit drying at the corner of my mouth and rolled to my side, realizing that I was on the filthy tile outside my apartment door. Rolling on my back I started to rise, stopping when I saw the flash of red. Sitting up I moved back to rest on the door as I inspected the envelope. I tore it open just as carefully as i had the first time. It was a card, with an elderly woman with long arms embracing her family. Inside it said, “Happy Birthday! You are loved today and always.” It was simply signed “your family,”
Pulling out my phone, I checked the calendar, it was indeed my birthday. Grandma had reached out again. Putting the card in  her pocket she entered the apartment, packed her meager belongings and bought a bus ticket home.
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Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE.  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful. Category: Drama Words: 100 Rating: PG

 

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Photo Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

Her mind roiled like an angry ocean as it plodded through her anxiety. The dream was intense,  it contorted her sleeping limbs as her head rolled over the pillow. Teddy bears sunk under waves as Barbie plunged off a cliff.

Shortly before her sleepy eyes greeted the morning sun, she had a vision of a white cat emerging from the surf. It circled her ankles and led her to safety. When her mom entered to wake her for school she sat up, her decision made.

“I want a Hello Kitty birthday party momma!” Seven year old Jenny beamed.

Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE.  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

Category: Humor

Words: 76

Rating: PG

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“You’re an idiot!” Sean spouted, brushing dirt from his pants.

“Hey, I did the best I could!” Jake shouted.

“Yeah, right! Biggest party of the year, Brit’s summer spree, the place where are the cool kids gather and what do you do? You make us look stupid!” Sean said storming  off.

“Hey, I practiced that spell over and over! It’s not my fault that I said tree instead of spree!” He yelled, chasing after his friend.

Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE,  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

Category: Humor

Words: 98

Rating: PG-13 Language

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Copyright Randy Maize – 2013

“Buzz! I never expected to find you here!”  Nanny exclaimed

“Me either, but when I heard the news of his death, I had to come.”

“How sweet Buzz.”

“Not really, I just wanted to make sure that gruff old bastard Billy was in there! Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Nanny chuckled.

Alastair, a talented photographer and writer has started a new fiction group that meets weekly to pen 150 words based on a photo.  Check out this weeks offering and submit one of your own HERE. You can also check out Alistair’s work at his blog.

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Ominous clouds gathered as wind churned the water into a frenzy. He never anticipated this when he talked Marcie into whitewater rafting. He had risen at five a.m., enticed her with coffee at five-thirty and was on the road by six. An ancient man with a beard gave them a safety lesson and they hit the water at eight. Marcie growled as they left the pier.

They returned three hours later as mother nature turned the world, and river, upside down. He was clawing at the bank when he saw them sink to the bottom. He had to return to the water or face certain death, or severe punishment. Diving into the froth, he held his breath as he searched the murky bottom with hands and eyes. Then he saw it. Clenching his fist, he floated up. Breaking the surface, he held them over his head..

“I found the car keys Hon!”

Her glare morphed into a smile.

 

Submit a poem or short story of 100 words or less, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE, or click on the little blue guy at the bottom. Writing tips, typo alerts and comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

Category: Fantasy?

Words: 100

Rating: Teen or older

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“Stretch Armstrong here, reporting from what can only be described as chaos. Casualties are piling up like cord wood. Indescribable horror, Potato Head is searching for eyes, hot wheels are over-turned, transformers are sorting dislodged parts.  Pure madness?”

Turning to his left, he gasped, Weebles were falling like winter snow under the tall blonde’s stilettos. Pissed because they wobbled, refusing to fall down, she kicked her way through the mass until she reached the clown. Lifting him over her head, she slam dunked him into the foam piano.

“For the last time, stay out of my make-up!” Barbie screamed.