Friday Fictioneers – Heavy Fuel

(Author’s note: I am hoping, very soon, to be able to do longer stories like did a couple years ago. Biggest problem: Exhaustion after work. The job I do is mind-numbing. I come home, and I fall asleep. Doubly so on days when I exercise. So, here’s to hoping things work soon. In the meantime, here’s today’s fictioneers.)

coffee-table-prior

© Yvette Prior

Heavy Fuel

by Miles H. Rost

“Dad, you’re only 51. You’re gonna die if you keep doing that.”

My cousin was berating her dad. He just finished scarfing down a triple monster cheeseburger, 2 hand pies, and a thick chocolate shake, all while lighting up an unfiltered cigarette.

He paused, and looked her straight in the eye.

“Lindsey, what do I do for a living?”
“You work at the mine.”
“And what do I mine for?”
“Vermiculite.”
“What’s another name for vermiculite?”
“Asbestos”
“And what does asbestos do?”
“Gives you lung cancer.”
“Exactly.”

He sat back, and gave her a smile.

“Enjoy every minute of this life, Sherry.”

wpimg

 

 

Advertisements

Friday Fictioneers – Classical Gas

(Author’s note: Been having some trouble getting to this earlier than I should. A lot of it is due to the fact that I have a trainer that I go to after work, so I don’t get home until about 5. So you’ll just have to read me last…if you can find me under all the other good folk out there. At least you have today’s fictioneers…)

ronda-del-boccio

© Ronda Del Boccio

Classical Gas

by Miles H. Rost

Rotten cheese, mixed with overcooked fish, and spoiled raw meat.

That was the description of the smell coming from the Racine residence, “Frankenstein’s house” to the rest of the neighborhood.

“Frankenstein” took great care of the plants in the boxes around the windows. A hybrid of wheat and onion, he called it.

The plants started to smell terrible, getting worse as the plant grew or as the humidity got worse.

A great sound, like a balloon letting go of it’s air occurred in the middle of the night.

The next morning, the plants were gone.

The neighborhood never woke up.

wpimg

 

 

Friday Fictioneers – Hold Your Head Up

(No message today, but may have some things in the cooker for the weekend. 20 year class reunion this weekend. Enjoy the fictioneers today!)

sandra-crook-stacks

© Sandra Crook

Hold Your Head Up

by Miles H. Rost

Chuck beamed with pride.

He finally finished. It took months, but he did it with his own hands. He ran inside, and smiled at his dad.

“Dad! Come take a look!”
“What is it, Chuck?”
“Come with me!”

His dad walked out to the greenhouse and looked. Seeing Chuck’s creation, he smiled.

“See Chuck, I knew you could do it.”
“I know, Dad. But it’s real now! And you can put things in it.”

His 17 year old son created something useful. Down Syndrome didn’t stop him. His dad smiled, knowing his son was going to create beautiful, workable things.

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – What’s Love Got To Do With It?

(No News. Just me. Here’s your fictioneers!)

ted-strutzs-town

© Ted Strutz

What’s Love Got To Do With It?

by Miles H. Rost

Her hand impacted the side of Mitch’s angular face.

It hurt.

Mitch just looked down at his diminutive paramour and smirked.

“So when were you going to tell me about Liliana?”
“I wasn’t, Chelsea. You agreed to an open relationship. That’s what it is.”

Chelsea slapped him again, reverse cheek this time.

“I said we should have open feelings, not have an open relationship!”
“And you didn’t say that. I said an open relationship, and you said ‘fine. Let’s be open’.”
“So you tricked me into love, when you were spreading it.”
“What’s love got to do with it, chiquita?”

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Cruel Summer

(No note. Just right.)

dawn-in-montreal

© Dale Rogerson

Cruel Summer

by Miles H. Rost

“It’s way too hot.”

Midori looked up at the hazy afternoon sky, the big yellow disk broiling the city of Aomori.

The worst summer on record, and Midori couldn’t go out to enjoy it.

“The pool, the arcade, the beach. All my places, and I can’t go.”

She stared up as the sun slowly meandered across the blue carpet, until she heard a knock.

Her dad walked in.

“Honey, wanna go to the pool?”

Midori’s eyes opened wide.

“You bet!”

As she moved her wheelchair, she grabbed her swimsuit from the bed. The pool was fun, even with no legs.

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Doctor Doctor (Bad Case of Loving You)

(No author’s note today. Too tired from trainer’s exercise.)

caged-liz

© Liz Young

Doctor Doctor (Bad Case of Loving You)

by Miles H. Rost

“Okay, why am I here?”

He looked at the old house and sighed.

“Why couldn’t Mildred Krankenstaffen have moved to that new nursing home…”

He looked to one of the darkened windows and took a step.

*wham wham wham wham*

On all sides, he was in a cage.

“Oh no…not again.”

“Oh yes, again,” a squeaky voice called from behind a tree.

“Violet, why do you do this?”

19-year-old Violet walked out from behind the tree. Dressed in a ballroom gown, the curvy young lady smiled.

“I always wanted to get inside a doctor’s head…”

The doctor’s eyes rolled.

wpimg

 

Friday Fictioneers – Life Is A Lemon…

(Author’s Note: Do you know how sore a person can get if they have not actually gone to a gym and exercised properly? Well, I’m that guy. Arms are about as sore as can be. But, you know what? It’s worth it. In 6 months, in 1 year, I will be further in shape. This is good for a writer. And, further, Happy Independence Day. To all veterans who fought for our freedom: We cannot owe you enough. There is not enough in this world to give that makes up for the years you sacrificed. Take honor in what you have done. Here’s the fictioneers!)

leg-up-jhc

© J. Hardy Carroll

Life Is A Lemon…

by Miles H. Rost

Gasps so loud, they silenced everything else.

The protesters outside the conference center couldn’t believe what they saw.

A college-aged woman had walked through their line, stood in front, and took off her leg.

Cherry strands of hair glided across her face as a breeze came through.

She stood there, hands stretched to the side, on one leg.

For 5 minutes, no one moved. No one did anything. They just stood and stared.

She smiled, looking around.

“I think y’all got the point,” she said, as she put her leg back on.

She put her pant leg down, and walked away.

wpimg