PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
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.
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
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.
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
Alexander and Peter inherited their parents’ fortune, and spent their time bickering.
Alexander enjoyed picking up pennies from the street and adding them to his bank account; while Peter was so wasteful, he threw money out the window of his plane.
On this occasion, Alexander was driving to town to buy groceries. He drove the rusted Mercedes convertible his dad left him. Suddenly, he lost control of the car as it left the road.
Search crews located Alexander’s car in a deep ravine. He was DOA. The autopsy revealed he died from a massive brain injury. A penny was found inside his skull.
This ironic tale of the fast and the frivolous is brought to you courtesy of Friday Fictioneers. Click on the froggy for more stories based on the photo prompt.
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.
PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young
Word Count: 100 words. More on this story, check out ‘Someone had to pay’
This little tale of the verification of innocence and one man’s
pain and suffering is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.
There’s more stories here…
PHOTO PROMPT © Magaly Guerrero
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.
Gregory was a typical teen…lazy and spoiled. Gregory complained about everything, and while his suffering parents tried their best, they soon realized there was no pleasing this brat.
“What’s for supper?” he demanded.
His step-father responded “Pizza, I made it myself”
“You expect me to eat that? I want takeout Pizza or nothing!”
“If you are hungry, you will eat it!” the parent said.
“No I won’t, I rather starve than eat that crap!” the teen said.
When Tom returned from work, half the pizza was gone.
“I left some for you. It’s not half bad” said the teen.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
This tale of the frustrations of raising a teen is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment.
More stories here…
PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter
The one thing Abigail always wished for, was to be little again. After losing her husband when she was just a young woman, she raised their five children on her own; her life was anything but easy.
Then one day, it happened.
“Twinkle Little Star!” she sang, as she played with her dollies. Sometimes Abigail cried, but only for a little while, eventually returning to her childish games.
As their mother played with her toys, her sons and daughters looked on sadly. It was not an easy thing to watch as the woman they admired reverted back to her childhood.
This little tale of the best side of a bad situation, is my reaction to this weeks’ photo prompt on Friday Fictioneers,
“…AND FURTHERMORE, IF THOSE OLD CARS ARE NOT GONE BY THE END OF THE DAY, I AM TAKING THE KIDS AND LEAVING!” His wife yelled.
Charlie left her standing there, and headed to the garage to polish the beautiful antique cars he bought with the couple’s life savings.
“It’s an investment.” he thought to himself. “Women just don’t understand. I can fix these old cars up and double our money! Imagine the trip we could have then.
“It’s me or the cars” she hollered. “Well, start packing!” he yelled, as he put For Sale signs on each of the cars.
This little ditty between an otherwise happy couple is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
His room was at the end of the hall
a long walk for a little boy.
but he was sent there often
his cruel daddy
have his way
with the girls in the family.
Why can’t you love me
like you love my sisters?
DO YOU THINK I AM
A SICK MAN?
A MAN DOES NOT USE HIS SONS FOR LOVE,
ONLY HIS DAUGHTERS
AND MAYBE HIS WIFE.
Maybe that’s why
when the little boy grew up
A monster to his sons
and their mother
because she refused
to give him a daughter
This tale of darkness, cruelty and two generations of abuse is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.
There’s more here…
PHOTO PROMPT © Lucy Fridkin
word count: 100 words
“I know how calm the waters are, but just look at the sky. A storm’s a’ comin’ I tell you!” Warned the old ‘Salt’.
Ignoring his advice, his crew boarded the small fishing vessel and headed out.
Well, the rumors were right, the fish were plentiful, probably the most cod in quite some time.
Heading back to shore, the winds began to pick up. The tides were rough, and the tiny vessel swooped from one side to the other, until the boat capsized.
“Hate being right” he said, as he and five other fishermen carried the casket to the church.
Many of my mom’s family were mariners who fished off the coasts of Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. We lost so many, mostly through poor decisions and rough waters. This little story is my tribute to the men who lost their lives at sea; and my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers