Friday Fictioneers – Waiting For An Answer

(Author’s note: I’m not sure exactly what it is, but my job has given me a few issues regarding rest and sleep. Mentally, my job is exhausting. And writing after a hard day is one of those things that I have been endeavoring to do, but yet many times failing over this summer period. I’m hoping to get better, but I’m not sure what that will look like.

Until then, you have today. And a Fictioneers post from me. Enjoy!)

dales-restaurant-photo

© Dale Rogerson

Waiting For An Answer

by Miles H. Rost

“Well?”

Carlos looked back from the window, blinking his eyes to readjust.

“Well what?”
“Have you paid any attention to what I’m asking?”
“Yes. I just don’t know what you want.”

Debra looked him dead in the eye.

“I’m waiting for an answer about moving in together.”

Carlos thought for a moment, recalling all the events they had apart. He snickered as he thought about them.

“Well?”

He stood and smiled.

“No. We are not moving in together.”
“WHAT?! What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not living with you. I don’t need a hen in my house. We’re through.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Bird Is The Word

(Author’s note: Big things to announce soon, not necessarily blog related, but we’ll see how things work. Otherwise, enjoy!)

© Douglas McIlnoy

Bird Is The Word

by Miles H. Rost

“You. You are a birdbrain!”

Ornithological expert Phil Kilanowski looked up from his desk.

“Come again?”

“You are a birdbrain. That’s all you have on your mind!” his wife, Melanie, cried out. She had a crow on each shoulder.

“Oh! You made friends with Phobos and Deimos! Excellent! This is great for my study on the social habits of crows!”

Melanie blinked.

“And the osprey in the living room?”

“Oh, he’ll be back at the university next week.”

“No, he’ll be back at the university tonight. Along with all others. Or your dinner will taste like chicken.”

Phil’s face went white.

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Friday Fictioneers – Ten Little Bottles

(Author’s note: G’day, everyone! First classes have come and gone for the week [or at least they will as of tomorrow night at 6:30PM]. I hope to be writing a bit more, considering I am going to need some time away from writing autobiographical pieces, biographical pieces, short fiction, and scripts. So much writing, so little time. Anyhow, here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

© G.L. MacMillan.

Ten Little Bottles

by Miles H. Rost

“Big ones! Small ones!” Beano slurred, “So many different types!”

Beano looked completely hammered. and fully animated. I was merely annoyed.

“Beano! What the heck are you talking about?!”

He turned his rotund frame my direction, and smiled one of those smiles that can irritate an IRS agent. It was the smile that I knew from my time in the Army with him.

“Mexico!”

Again, flustered was I.

“What about Mexico, Private?!”

“I found all these bottles in an empty house. And I drank them all.”

“And that’s why you’re drunk now?” I asked, blinking at him.

Beano grinned.

“Permanently drunk. Not sure how!”

And now people know why I will never visit Mexico.