home sweet home

Image by Bikurgurl

for years i’ve lived quietly in a downtown parking garage. it takes a little cunning and craft, but i come and go after dark, avoid the security cameras, and sleep under the vehicles of long-term parkers who are out of state on business trips. i’ve had the garage all to myself, as the less-crafty get caught and tossed out.

but now, zounds, the garage has been turned into an emergency hospital. nowhere to hide, from the doctors or the virus.

but yay. I’ve snuck into a furniture warehouse. nobody here. they’re all sheltering at home. i sleep in a king-size!

for 100-Word Wednesday

Snow

“Big storm comin,” I say.

“Don’t git yer hopes up, Pa,” says the wife.

“We’re behind ya, Pop,” say the kids. “Whatever may happen.”

“It’s our last hope,” I say. “The contracts are due this week. I’ve gotta deliver or we’re through.”

“Yer a farmer,” says the wife. “It’s between you and God. I’m praying for ya.”

“We’re praying for ya,” say the kids.

“This drought… this darned drought…,” I say, looking out the window.

Then the storm hit. God Almighty answered our prayers.

I went out to warm up the tractor for the harvest.

Canada’s snow-cone companies were saved.

 

 

The science behind eating snow.

Posted for Friday Fictioneers.
Photo: Dale Rogerson

Six-word stories

My 51 entries and 47 others in a 6-word story contest. The authors are hidden during the voting.

Samples on the Flip Side

Her response was of the “Flip, side with me, please” type.

I’m on the dyslexic side. Flip the phrase around.

For her hair, she chose The Flip. Side view, not bad; full on, not so good.

Before an American football game comes the flip. Side that wins the coin toss chooses to receive or to defer.

Thanks, dudes. See you on the flip side.

[100 Word Challenge]

It was my fault.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t your fault. It was my fault.”

“Your fault?”

“His fault?”

“My fault.”

“It was my fault.”

“It was my fault.”

[100-Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week #30]

It wasn’t my fault.

“Did you measure that earthquake?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I handle the San Andreas fault.”

“You used that same excuse in our tennis match today.”

“It wasn’t my fault. My partner hit that ball over the line.”

“You blame everyone but yourself. Even your beagle and your jumper.”

“It wasn’t my fault. My beagle has a notch in his ear; it’s a conformation fault. My jumper’s knockdown in the ring was a performance fault.”

“And when all the lights went out?”

“It wasn’t my fault. That fault was built into the computer program, and it was tripped by an electrical fault.”

“You need no-fault insurance.”

[100-Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week #30]

Wednesday Weeks

Mrs. Weeks named her children Monday through Sunday, respectively. She stopped after seven, for obvious reasons.

Each child was required to minister to Mrs. Weeks specially on his or her day, taking on extra, onerous chores for the twenty-four hours. Consequently, Sunday Weeks came to hate the Church, Saturday Weeks came to hate social dancing, Friday Weeks came to hate fish, so forth.

Wednesday night was bingo night and due to her fatigue at the end of that day each week, Wednesday Weeks came to hate bingo. Nevertheless, in later life, she won a new Prius at the game.

[100 Word Challenge]