In Canada, on November 11 we celebrate Remembrance Day to remember those who fought to keep this country safe. This is my tribute to those whose battles only begin on the battlefield. I have linked up to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers .
“Yes sir, I want to return this bread, it has a hole in it!”
“I am sorry, we have a policy. No returns if half the bun is eaten!”
“How was I supposed to know there was a hole?” asked the disgruntled customer.
“We cannot help it, that’s how bread is!” said the confused clerk.
“I cannot even spread butter without covering my hands with it!”
“You are looking at this all wrong. This is a special loaf of bread, it’s made with flour, water, yeast and the baker’s special ingredient.” said the clerk.
The clerk replied “Love.”
PHOTO PROMPT Kelvin M. Knight
Last week I wrote quite the shocker. I received more negative comments than ever before. I promised the people who were repulsed by my story that this week, Things would be different, less gritty and repulsive. I hope this helps redeem my reputation.
Harry took his wife out to a local diner for a Mother’s Day meal. The man was outraged when the waitress brought a bottle of No Name Ketchup to the table.
“No name brand Ketchup? You call yourself a restaurant? Fake Ketchup?” he hollered, embarrassing his poor wife.
“I only use Heinz Ketchup! If it ain’t Heinz, there are no other kinds!” he yelled. “I have been using Heinz all my life, just ask my wife!”
“Relax Harry, you have been using No Name brand for years, I just refilled the Ketchup bottle with whatever was on sale” she admitted.
Happy Mothers Day to all the special moms out there, especially those who live with stubborn men like Harry. This story is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. I hope you enjoyed this, and thanks for reading.
Steam bellowed from the busted radiator, as Susan paced the deserted highway.
A ratty old tow truck appeared in the distance. The driver rolled his window down, “Name’s Frank. Looks as if you have a bit of trouble. Hop in my truck, I’ll tow you to my garage and fix it.” She sensed something, but ignored her intuition and stepped inside.
Upon her entry, Susan noticed something odd. No seats, no dashboard, and worst of all, no floor. As she fell to her death, she disappeared into the oblivion.
“Another car for my collection” the Devil said, as he drove away.
This little tale of hospitality and horror is brought to you courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. Click on the froggy for more intriguing tales based on the photo.
Lawyer: “Did you, William Hillman, brutally murder eight innocent women?”
Lawyer: “Did you bury those innocent women, who were all young mothers, in your backyard?”
Lawyer: “William, we found the bodies. Your DNA is everywhere. We have the murder weapon, which is registered in your name. I am asking you once more, did you murder those innocent women?”
William: “NO! Those women were not innocent. Those women abandoned their children, forcing them to live in foster homes, where they were abused. My mother did the same to me. She was not innocent either.
Charlie stared with envy as the young couple danced across the floor. The old guy remembered a time when he and Thelma danced just like this. Sadly, hard work and raising a large family left little time for dancing anymore.
Today being their 50th anniversary, Charlie had quite the surprise lined up for his wife. “Put on your dancin’ shoes, let the jukebox blow a fuse!” he hollered. The ‘Ya All Come in is having a dance and we are going!”
It wasn’t long before Thelma was ready to go. On this night, the old couple danced like two teenagers.
This little ditty about keeping the fun in a marriage is brought to you courtesy of Friday Fictioneers. Be sure to click on the little froggy to check out the many other stories based on this week’s photo prompt.