Posted tagged ‘Flash Fiction 55’

Leona, Dear – Flash Friday 55

February 15, 2013

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Leona, dear, mascara-plated,
Whiplash voiced, hair Grackle-lated,
Post christened her the Queen of Mean–
Her building’s pink now, sometimes green.

Yet she so loved her little Trouble
That bit of woof and fluffy bubble
She left twelve million for his care–
Excessive dough to wash dog-hair,
said the Judge, reducing it to two
(million).

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55 (not including the hyphens) memorial words for Leona Helmsley, whose building I walk through nearly every day in mid-town NYC. She’s been on my mind a lot because they have recently taken to lighting the building in dramatic colors. Pink for Valentine’s. Plus, I’ve also been thinking about love and/or the dearth thereof–she left $12 million to her dog, Trouble, causing a certain consternation among family members. Leona’s life was not without its difficulties, as she was convicted and served prison time for tax evasion; the testimony of those around her–particularly staff–was not terribly flattering, I’m afraid. Tell it to the G-Man.

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The Solution (Per NRA) – Flash 55

December 21, 2012

The Solution (Per NRA)

Armed guards in schools.
Armed guards in daycare.
Armed guards in churches.
We’re talking about liberty, God
damn it.

Armed guards in groceries.
Armed guards in gas stations.
Armed guards on mass transit.
Armed guards in traffic jams.
Armed guards on street corners.
What part of “freedom,”
don’t you frigging
understand?

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Fifty-five loaded words for the G-Man.  Go tell him and everyone. 

 

“Vacuum (Swept From the Closet)” – Flash 55 (Excerpt ha! from Nanowrimo)

November 16, 2012

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Vacuum (Swept From The Closet)

“Are you drawing that vacuum cleaner?

It had been pulled from the closet.

“You are! You’re drawing that vacuum cleaner!”

He inhaled/exhaled concentration, fumes of marker slashes, too, in the air.

“Since when are vacuum cleaners great art?”

In-out, till, with renewed compression of breath/stare, he flipped the sheet over the spiralwired pad, began again.

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Agh!  I really am trying to work on Nanowrimo.  A bit.  A difficult week.  Here’s a 55 word section for the G-Man

“Spined” – Flash Fiction 55

July 20, 2012

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Spined

The sweetest part, he said, jamming the core across her clenched lips/teeth; I’m telling you to try it, and, when she stuck out her tongue, slapped her.

You’re only hurting yourself.

As she tasted sting over blood, even over pineapple, she couldn’t quite believe that, and would not, she swore, even if she could.

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Yes, I know this is both a bummer and a bit out of character, and I almost hate to tell it to the G-Man because I like Fridays to be more cheerful, but it is 55 words, and part of a larger story, and well, all I could come up with today.

DO have a nice weekend! (And sorry, and thanks.)

Milkweed – Hollow Stalk, Promise (But Great Pic)

July 13, 2012

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Hollow Stalk (and Promise) Man

Man, pocketing with others
empty breeze, 1930s,
promised the two kids
ten bucks for a milkweed, root
unbroken.

They dug the whole hot day, splintering, till, going wide, deep,
(unbroken) carried dirt-dripping triumph, delicately.

Alone, balking more
than the damn plant, he ditched them
with only a memory, though that grew
quite dear, over time.

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The above is my Flash 55 Fiction for the G-Man, Mr. Know-it-all, who is wonderfully BACK!

My pic is of milkweed which seems quite attractive to butterflies.  It is undoctored – there’s the shadow of a third swallowtail in there–crazy.

Fish For Friday Flash 55 – “Used to Be” (The Secret Life of You Know What–)

March 9, 2012

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Used To Be

Fridays were permeated
by the smell of fish; fuzzy brown
limp sticks exuding stink
through the school in vengeance for
their not-so-sea
change, an odiferous insistence
that they had once been something actually
found in the natural world, subject
to the laws of birth, death, decay.  We
could only eat them
with ketchup.

As always, all rights reserved.  And, as always, have a great Friday.  And, since it’s Friday, tell it to the G-Man!

And finally, finally, if you are looking for some light-hearted escape over the week-end, check out NOSE DIVE, my comic novel about noses, New York, friendship, and fallen goudas.   Told too with a dab of fone sex. (But very innocently.)

PS – and I should really have made it 55 flavors instead of 57, but couldn’t do that to an old icon.

Friday Flash 55 Back To the Days Before GPS

February 17, 2012

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The map was a book. I drove; she navigated, piecing together freeway from one page to the next.

“Should take ya about 35 minutes,” the gas station guy had said.

After two hours, 70 mph, still within LA city limits–“that guy sure has a weird idea of 35 minutes,” I groaned.

“Oops,” she said.

(The above is my offering to the G-Man, Mr. Know-it-all! Have a wonderful weekend, and please please please check out my comic novel NOSE DIVE in paper and on Kindle–for only 99 cents! A great read if you like escape and aren’t completely thrilled with the way you look!)