Posts Tagged ‘comedy’

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It was at twelve-thirty-five on a Wednesday that the workers at the processing plant walked out. Their employer, a short man with a twitching little mustache, asked why and they told him that they hated the long monotonous hours, the low wages, the inadequate health care, the whine of the old machines, and the way the dull grey walls made the whole place feel like a prison.

“I hear you,” their employer said and he had the walls painted green.


This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Jerry Kiesewetter for providing the prompt photo!

When Geoff had found out Kenton had used his money to buy them an office, the only thing that had kept him from strangling him was his wife holding him back, but when they arrived at the location, he had to admit it didn’t look bad.

“And how much did you say it cost?”

Kenton told him, with a smug smile.

“There has to be a catch.”

“Well…”

Opening the door, Geoff looked inside. And outside.

“There’s no back wall.”

Kenton shrugged. “What do you need a back wall for, really?”

That time, there was nobody to hold Geoff back.

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Word Count: 100

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Sandra Cook for providing the prompt photo!

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Mostly, everyone in the town was rubbish. The sort of snooty, upper-class people who’d never give to a charity they couldn’t write off on their taxes and who went through cars like toothbrushes and toothbrushes like tissues. They were always loud about the colours of cups and silent in the face of brutality.

But there was one man who wasn’t. Terrence lived on the outskirts of town and made a living doing electrical work for the others, who couldn’t tell a lightbulb from a wire.

One night, there was a woman in his garden, wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

“I think,” she said, “you should sell your car and buy an amphibious vehicle.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“Just,” she replied, “an idea.”

And then she vanished, which made her advice seem much more important.

Terrence bought an ugly old tour vehicle, slow and useless, and the others laughed at him.

Then the reservoir burst.

They said it had been a long time coming: the result of blocking up too many rivers and ignoring safety regulations.

The million-dollar homes and billion-dollar homes flooded, lost in a dark grey torrent. Terrence and his amphibious vehicle floated past roofs, headed for safety.


Word Count: 197

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Photo credit to A Mixed Bag.

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Ian Thorn was happy with his reputation as the finest mind in England, his impressive number of completed cases, and the money that piled up in his bank account. What he could live without were the bodies.

It was all right at first. His clients came in and he solved their murders. But then he found a man stabbed to death on the Underground during his morning commute. A visit to his brother’s house in the country revealed a secret Satanic cult.

Solving mysteries was all very good, but he preferred not to have his work follow him home.

“Take a vacation,” his friend, Inspector Banks, said. “Try the beach.”

So Thorn went to the beach. He walked the golden sands, watching sunlight play over clear waters, a salty breeze in his face.

And then he found it, floating in the shallows.

He sighed. There was another case to solve.


Word Count: 150

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Louise for providing the prompt photo!

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Lily gave Mark a look of disdain. There was, he thought, an art in the way she curled her lip.

“It’s not really my fault,” he said.

“All right.” Lily sat down. “Explain. I’m a fan of absurdist fiction.”

“You could have left a note. ‘Do Not Eat. This is for the party.’ I came in and saw a pizza. What was I to do?”

“Put a little effort into restraining your gluttony,” Lily replied.

“It was one piece.”

“And it was one bullet that killed Lincoln.”

“But–”

Lily glared and Mark knew he’d be off to buy another pizza.


Word Count: 100

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Dale Rogerson for providing the prompt photo!

(See? I can be normal sometimes.)

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Henri prided himself on having a poet’s mind. As he walked Byron, his dog – No, Hound, he thought, Hound has a better ring to it – under the verdant trees and the cloud-strewn sky, he began to think about his life and metaphors. Passing under the shadow of one tree, its pink flowers drifting around him like dancing sprites, he spoke to his hound.

“Well, Byron,” he said, “I’ve never seen a poem as lovely as a tree.”

Byron didn’t appear particularly impressed by the quotation.

When they came to a branch in the grey pay, Henri pulled Byron’s leash short, stroking his chin thoughtfully.He stared from one path to the other with a keen gaze.

“Tell me, Byron,” he asked, “which looks like the path less travelled?”

Thoroughly disinterest in the answer to the question, Byron raised his leg and made a smell that even Henri had difficulty making poetic.


Word Count: 150

This is for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Louise for providing the prompt photo!

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Elizabeth tried to ignore the fact that her neighbor’s door had ten locks.

So he’s cautious, she thought. Perfectly normal.

The locks went, one after the next, until the door opened a crack and two intense eyes glared out her from a haggard face.

“What is this?” he asked.

“I’m Liz. Your neighbor. We’ve never talked before, but…” She took a deep breath. “The power’s gone out all down the block, so–”

“You’ve come to the right place,” he interrupted, throwing the door open. “Come in.”

She walked into the house and found herself faced by shelves and boxes of food, bottles, and ammunition. A loud click came from behind her and she turned to see her neighbour holding a crossbow, a grin splitting his face.

“Blackout’s just phase one,” he said. “The zombies are coming next. And we’ll be ready for them.”

Liz decided not to visit him again.


Word Count: 150

This is for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Maria for providing the prompt photo!