Please cast your entries!

The Joke's On You
1 (9.1%)
Mother-in-law’s Chilli Reception
7 (63.6%)
Dyslexics of the World Untie!
3 (27.3%)

Total Members Voted: 9

Author Topic: Flash Fiction Challenge #50 Entries, Vote!  (Read 869 times)

Offline toriamcd

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Flash Fiction Challenge #50 Entries, Vote!
« on: August 02, 2012, 01:55:59 PM »

Moderator's note - the flash fiction #50 thread was temporarily removed due to an issue with two of the entries.  After consideration by the moderators, both entries have been disqualified from the voting competition as do not appear to be original pieces.

The flash challenges are writing competitions, and as such only original works submitted by the authors themselves are allowed.

The posts in question likely resulted from a misunderstanding of the prompt, which was to write a story around a joke.  The voting has been re-set and any cast votes have been cleared.

Enjoy the three stories in Flash Fiction #50 and be sure to cast a vote for your favorite!  

-Laura H
Global Moderator

The Joke's on You

“Hey Tony?”

I blinked awake. Looked over at an annoyance. There it sat, perched on the excitement of about a spoonful of coke.

“What’s black and white and read all over?”

Too often his stupid conversations came out of nowhere. A real problem for me at 3am.

Strike one.

“Your corpse if you don’t leave me alone.” I rolled over.

Undeterred, he continued. “Huh?” A laugh out loud. “Nope. Not even close. It’s a newspaper!”  I heard him slap bare knee. “Ha! Ha! Get it?” My eye lids tried harder to squeeze him out.

Persistently, he continued. “You know… Because it’s printed in black on white paper and read al…” We wait out each other’s patience. I win.

“You have to be a ball breaker all the time, eh?” He sniffed. “Can’t have any fun.”

Strike two.

But he kept swinging.

“Come one, Tony. It’s Friday night for fuck sake.” He threw open the thick curtains to display his point of view in bright shards of neon lights. “We’ll paint this town red.”

Strike three.

But it took the first click of a metal hammer to really get his attention. The second click… well, I did that on my own, hair trigger and all. With his hands raised up in defence it was like putting the lead ball through a goal’s posts. “Score,” I cheered. Red mist and smoky echoes faded away long before him.

Too funny.

Mother-in-law’s Chilli Reception

Bradley had tried every trick to avoid visiting his mother-in-law, but today found himself exchanging strychnine smiles with her as he passed through the kitchen the patio.

Kevin, his father-in-law, greeted him and offered a hand shake. Of course, he withdrew his hand as soon as Bradley went to grasp his, laughed and slapped Bradley’s shoulders. “Got past the gates of hell then?”

Kevin pulled back his lips in an awkward smile, and wide-eyed with astonishment, offered a non-committal shrug. Kevin guffawed,  filled Bradley’s wine glass and tilted his head towards the kitchen. “Marjorie’s made a great chilli, a real nostril-burner. Enjoy this before your taste buds are nuked.”

Bradley sipped his Shiraz appreciatively, careful not to glug too much. Conversation, the usual bad jokes, banalities and platitudes, took place to the sound of Marjorie pounding at something in a pestle and mortar. The sound carried through the French windows.

Bradley giggled self-consciously. “Something’s getting a beating.”

Kevin winked. “That’ll be her cul-de-sac famous guacamole. Secret ingredients and gypsy magic are involved, I believe. She never lets me help.” He swigged back the contents of his glass. “Don’t tell her I said so, but whatever she adds, it still never quite disguises the earthy taste.”

Bradley smirked. “Guacamole, you say. Avocados?”

“No – guac-a-mole,” said Kevin, breaking down the word with an exaggerated accent.

Bradley spluttered his drink and left red stains over his ironed, white shirt. The thumping from the kitchen continued. For a horrible moment he thought Kevin had said ‘whack-a-moley’. Was that the earthy taste Marjorie couldn’t disguise?

Dyslexics of the World Untie!

‘Did you hear about the dyslexic bloke who walked into a bra?’ Rob burst out laughing.

      ‘You think you’re funny, don’t you?’ said Sue. ‘Well, you’re not and you’re not clever either.

You should try getting through life with dyslexia.’

      Rob tried to wipe the grin off his face and failed. ‘Lighten up, Sue. I’ve heard dyslexics have more fnu!’

      Sue stormed out of the kitchen and into the lounge. She sat down on the sofa, wrapping

her arms around herself. Rob didn’t understand. Life had been easy for him; top of his class, good

degree and a great job. While she’d spent her schooldays mocked by the kids, punished by the

teachers and shouted at by her parents. Must try harder, lazy, unmotivated, read her reports.

Well you try motivating yourself when the words on a page look like hieroglyphics. In the end, she’d left

school with no qualifications and started at the local supermarket stacking shelves. She’d learnt what

went where, not by reading the labels, but by studying the pictures on the boxes and packets. The

highlight of her career came when she was promoted to the checkout and that only happened once

automatic scanning came in and knowing what was written on the goods became unnecessary.
      How had she ended up with Rob, she asked herself? But she knew. It suited him to be with

someone he could laugh at, someone to be the butt of his jokes. It made him feel big. Bastard, she

thought, and burst into tears. She heard the door open and Rob come in. He sat down beside her and
took her in his arms.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ He nuzzled his nose in her hair and she felt

his breath tickling the back of her neck.

      ‘You don’t understand how it’s been,’ she said. ‘Always on the outside, feeling stupid all the

time and knowing how disappointed Mum and Dad were. It eats into you, destroys your soul.’ Rob pulled

her closer. ‘You’ve no idea how I prayed as a child; prayed that I could be made cleverer somehow, like

everyone else.’

      Rob pulled away and looked at her, a look of bewilderment on his face.

      ‘But I thought you didn’t believe in Dog,’ he said.


modified to correct the deadline month from July to August ~
« Last Edit: August 06, 2012, 05:27:37 PM by Laura H »