Category: Friday Fictioneers

Ain’t Love Grand

He told her he wanted to offer piano lessons in order to bring more money into the household. “We can’t afford a piano”, she said.

He bought one anyway, with their savings.

Every night he had women in, “teaching them piano” he said.

Susan wasn’t stupid, she knew he wasn’t teaching piano to these women. Making up a fake name, she emailed Stanley and set up an appointment.

That night, she waited in the piano room, wearing a sexy red dress and a blonde wig. When Stanley put his moves on her from behind, she put Stanley through the piano.

Copyright John Nixon

This little foray into the world of infidelity and the ramifications of such an act, is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. click on the frog for more stories.

Strong enough?

As he carefully lifted each stone, he thought about his two previous houses. “Build it from straw, it will be economical” they said, what did they know? “Build it from wood, stronger than straw!” He should have never listened to them.

“Who knew you shouldn’t smoke in a straw house? The thing went up like a Christmas tree!

The wood house? Damn termites! It was rubble before the wolf even visited.

Of course he blamed the wolf, he didn’t want anyone knowing how stupid he was.

This time he chose to go with stone. Fireproof, insect proof, and IDIOT PROOF!

This little tale of lessons learned the hard way is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Each week, bloggers from across the world write stories based on the latest photo prompt. Hope you enjoyed the Tangled Fairy Tale


Photo courtesy of Piya Singh


He hated that place. It wasn’t because his mother made him attend each and every Sunday morning, and it wasn’t because of the super boring sermons the old Padre presented each week. It was because of those seats.

Fashioned from solid birch, the seats were especially unforgiving. Frankly, they hurt his back. It was hard to keep still. He either slid out of them, or he squirmed endlessly, prompting his mom to insist he keep quiet.

These days, he still tries to stay away. Again, not because of the preacher’s sermons, but this time because of his damn Hemorrhoids. Ouch!



This story of discomfort in the Lords’s place, is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Click on the link for more stories.

Ignoring the Prime Directive


“Kirk, remember the Prime Directive! We cannot land here, the inhabitants will be forever affected by our presence!” warned Spock.

“The Dilithium Crystals are breaking down. We need to recharge them using the planet’s Nuclear energy!” yelled Scotty, the ship’s engineer.

While the men scoured the planet for a suitable power source, it’s inhabitants barely noticed the huge starship that lay parked on the city streets.

“Capteen, the people are walking blindly, staring into their communicators!” warned Chekov.

“When we have enough energy, get us out of here, apparently there is no intelligent life here on this planet!” said Kirk.


The latest episode of Star Trek, and an insight into how many things we miss by staring into our cell phones and tablets….is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Click on the froggy for more stories…and Beam me outta here!





enough shit


“Daddy, fix the TV please” begged his seven year old daughter. “The lines are all squiggly!” “Fix it Daddy, Please?” she asked.

He knew fixing the damn satellite wasn’t as easy as she thought, but being such a loving father, he did his best.

He knew the problem before he even went up. Three stories later he reached the roof top.

“Just as I thought, those frigging birds shit on the satellite dish again.” he muttered.

Suddenly he had a revelation.

“That’s it! I ‘m cutting the cord!”

“Just let those stupid birds try shitting on my Android TV Box.”

This story of cord cutting and a daddy’s love is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.

click on the froggy for more stories.





seat of choice

PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz

Heading to work, Paul realized that he had to use the bathroom. Pulling into a service station, he quickly headed to the restroom. On the way, he met a man exiting the room, tools in hand.

Paul noticed not one but two identical toilets. He used the first one, and upon completion of his business, he attempted to flush.

No handle. In fact, no plumbing.
Apparently the man leaving the room was a plumber, not yet finished installing a new toilet.

Paul left the room quickly, only to meet the same man, on his way to finish installing the toilet.

This little tale of surprise and disgust, is brought to you courtesy of Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt of the week. Click on the froggy for more stories.

where the water doesn’t run

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

There is a lump in the sand
where the water doesn’t run.
Nobody goes there, not the father
and not the son.

A while back
when tempers flared,
a father lost control
and it’s what you see here.

His son, teased and tortured
and then bullied some more;

he took his own life
he couldn’t stand it anymore.

The  dad, confused and hurt
visited the bully one night,
he didn’t want to fight
but they did.

When they finished

there was only one.

Before taking his own life,

he buried the bully beneath the sand.

where the water doesn’t run.


This sad little tale of bullying and retaliation the frustrations of having your son bullied and feeling helpless,is brought to you by this week’s Friday Fictioneers. I hope you enjoyed the story.

My French Roots

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PHOTO PROMPT – © ceayr

Like the explorers of the past, we came to the new world

Our hopes and dreams rested on the land.

The natives were kind and innocent.

They educated us on how to farm and fish

And how to survive.

And then the British arrived.

They drove us from our homes

Killed our livestock and burned our barns.

Families were rounded up like cattle

And shipped to a faraway land

To serve as soldiers and slaves.

Kill that Indian, and that Frenchman

Because the king ordered it.

When we refused we were shot

In front of our families

We are Acadian.

This tribute to the amazing people who came here from France and battled to create what we now know as Canada, is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.

The duck who wouldn’t cluck

photo courtesy of Luther Siler

I bought a toy duck

But it wouldn’t cluck

So I said WTF

and I opened ‘er up.

Instead of stuffing inside

I seen where someone

tried to hide

a Bomb!

The duck blew up

Oh Shucks!

Feathers everywhere

Even in my hair

And on the chair

Where I sat when the duck blew up!

My kid came in

Looking for the duck

I lied and said he was in the truck

He said “No Daddy, he’s not in the truck”

He knew the duck blew up

Because he watched what was left of the duck


This little poem is brought to you courtesy of the Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. Follow the little froggy for more stories.

The Cellar

Photo courtesy of Roger Bultot



It was especially dark that night. The moon just settled inside the clouds, and there wasn’t a star to be seen.

a mysterious figure emerged from the cellar, and moved quickly onto the unlit parking lot.

Hotwiring an old car, he silently left the parking lot and began his nightly hunt.

This one was easy. All he had to do was stop his car and she climbed in. The poor girl got more than she bargained for when she went home with the Hillside Cannibal.

Later that day, police found a bag containing only a few bones and a skull.

This creepy little story is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Please click on the little blue frog for more stories