Friday Fictioneers

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Friday Fictioneers – It’s Good To Be King

(Author’s note: I have to apologize to all my readers and others who I should be reading. The last couple weeks dealing with the run-up to winter camp left me with little energy to respond, and that’s all on me. I will be doing better, now that camp has started and I have an idea of what’s going on, to actually visit and remark on other people’s stories.

In the meantime, here’s my fictioneers story, and it’s a bit of a historical thing…)

derelict-building-sandra-crook

© Sandra Crook

It’s Good To Be King

by Miles H. Rost

Steve disliked working at the school. It was not something he wanted to do.

He was waiting for news that seemed to never come. Meanwhile, he had to teach these hormonal girls how to write. It was a Sisyphean task.

When he was called to the office, he thought he was in trouble.

“It’s your wife,” the receptionist said, handing him the phone.

“Tabs, what’s going on?”

“Steve, I just got a telegram.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re going to print. They are asking if $4200 is enough.”

Steve smiled. His work about the kids he taught would be published.

Carrie would be unleashed.

(courtesy of Wikimedia)

(Courtesy of the Boston Globe)

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Friday Fictioneers – Hitchin’ A Ride

(Author’s note: On a well earned vacation this week, then 3 weeks of camp (I really do not understand the reason for camps. They don’t do what they’re supposed to do…</rant>.)  I may not be posting on February 21st, due to being in transit from Korea back to America. It’ll be quite…interesting. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers!)

amusement-park-jhardy

© J. Hardy Carroll

Hitchin’ A Ride

by Miles H. Rost

“We stayed WAY too late at the fair.”

Travis and Lizzie were bummed they missed the bus back to their home in the next county. Worth it to go to the amusement park, but not worth it to walk 25 miles back home.

“If we hoof it 2 miles an hour, we can be home by lunch.”

“Got your cell phone with?”

“You know my family doesn’t do cell phones, Trav.”

“Maybe your mom knows we’re gone…”

Just then, a blue Trans-Am pulled over and screeched the tires.

Lizzie facepalmed. Travis looked stunned.

“Well? Gonna get in, or ya gonna hoof it?”

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Friday Fictioneers – Stomp!

(Author’s note: February 21st is moving day. I hope to have something already ready by then for Fictioneers. Otherwise, it’s winter camp prep and stupidity. Cannot wait until this stuff is done for good. Anyhow, here’s tonight’s fictioneers, based upon a true story.)

 

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© Sarah Potter (and others)

Stomp!

by Miles H. Rost

The townhouse door opened quickly.

Donna was about to walk in, when she saw it, and screamed.

“What’s wrong…” her friend Lisa started to say, before she turned and screamed.

Hasty dialing commenced. Within 5 minutes, their friends arrived. An engineer, a computer technician, and a former Navy SEAL, all looked inside, then grinned at each other.

“It’s Spider Stomping Day!”

After much crunching and squishing, they came out covered in goo.

“Alright, the good news is, we got all the spiders,” SEAL said, “The bad news is, your walls have spider guts on them.”

“Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww….”

Thankfully,  they knew a cleaner…

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Friday Fictioneers – (I Wanna) Kiss The Bride

(No notes, just write!)

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© Roger Bultot

(I Wanna) Kiss The Bride

by Miles H. Rost

“Who’s idea was it to make this pathway of barbecue nets?”

Mandy’s red, wrinkled finger pointed at the mosquito nets that lined the aisle.

“It’s to prevent all the mosquitos–”

“I don’t care. Take them down.”

“But, Miss–”

“I didn’t pay 34 thousand dollars for mosquito nets. This wedding will go net free!”

The workers started taking down the nets, with one muttering how it would be nice if the wedding went “nut free”.

Mandy looked around, and shook her head.

“My daughter is getting the wedding I didn’t. It has to go perfectly.”

She looked at a net, and cried.

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Friday Fictioneers – Wheel In The Sky

(Author’s note: It’s official. I leave Korea on February 21st. It’s done. Time for some Fictioneers!)

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© Ted Strutz

Wheel In The Sky

by Miles H. Rost

It looked like a shoddily-crafted TARDIS.

“What’s with the tire on top of the box?” Brian asked the mechanic.

“Oh, that’s for balance. It can lay flat, or straight up and down. Depends on what’s needed.”

“And what’s the purpose of this box?”

The mechanic just chuckled.

“It’s a new type of smoker. The wheel pulls a chain that moves the meat around.”

Meat has to move? I asked myself.

“More smoke at the bottom can penetrate, creating greater flavor for the meat.”

I looked at the mechanic and grinned.

“You’re a genius.”

“Nope, I just like heavily smoked sausages.”

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Friday Fictioneers – I Got The Message

(Author’s note: Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope to have more fiction that isn’t fictioneers based coming up soon. The biggest problem is that winter camp preparation is taking up a LOT of my time, and it’s annoying. 55 days until I am done with this job, and a couple more after before I go back to America. Here’s today’s fictioneers, and a Merry Christmas to all again!)

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© Bjorn Rudberg

I Got The Message

by Miles H. Rost

The stack of hats to the ceiling should have been the first clue.

The newest club here in Portland was supposed to be hip, the biggest place, and there was a line down the block to prove it.

I never take off my hat for anyone.

And here’s a big hulking monster named Tiny telling me I need to take off my hat.

“I never take off my hat!” I said, for the 54th time since entering the club.

“Tiny” looked at me and put his fist through a nearby wall.

“No Hats Beyond This Point!”

I got the message…

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Friday Fictioneers – Rush Hour

(Author’s Note: I have this strange feeling that I’m about to get blindsided with something at work, and things are in a lot of flux right now. I’ll be continuing at this level until, likely, February. To which I’ll be packing up and on the way back to the States. So I’ll try to keep up. Just beware. Here’s today’s fictioneers!)

lampost-s-pier-sandra-crook

© Sandra Crook

Rush Hour

by Miles H. Rost

Preston’s first date in 12 years shouldn’t have ended up like this: Stuck on the interstate in a traffic jam.

He also didn’t expect his date to be flushed and shaking.

“Melanie, what’s going on now?”

“I…can’t hold on much longer.”

Preston’s eyes nervously looked over.

“You gotta hold on! Grrrrrr…”

He looked to his right. Clearance.

He gunned the engine and sped past a light pole. Fingers and horns went everywhere.

Minutes later, he finally pulled up to a building. He quickly got out and opened the door for Melanie.

She bounced out, tabby cat latched to her arm.

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Friday Fictioneers – The Icehouse

(Author’s note: Bronchitis, a cracked wrist that will soon be able to be out of splint permanently, and lots of work to do before winter camp next month. All of it is making me go crazy and want to get my vacation week that much sooner. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers.)

 

icicles-dale-rogerson

© Dale Rogerson

The Icehouse

by Miles H. Rost

“Winter is coming, Aunt Miranda.”

“I know.”

“You know that I have a place open for you in Coos Bay. It may not be warm, but it’ll be better than this place.”

Miranda brushed her slightly graying hair off her face.

“I know. But, I am going to stay. If my Keith comes back, where is he going to go?”

“But Uncle Keith is M.I.A. I don’t know if he will come back. At least if we get news, we can guide him to our home.”

“Thank you, child. But I’ll wait for him.”

Icicles started forming on the tree.

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Friday Fictioneers – Skating

(Author’s note: Doing something dangerous. Took off my splint and am writing this properly. Putting splint back on after it’s done, but so far…no problems. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers…just for all y’all.)

russells-bw

© The Court Jester of Friday Fictioneers, Russell Gayer

Skating

by Miles H. Rost

Running from the frozen lake, Brian Gerlach saw the open shed and the toilet.

“Brian, come on! We’ve only got another hour before our moms call us for dinner.”
“But I really gotta go!”
“Fine, but you’re on your own!”

He didn’t need their help. He’d use the toilet and get back to skating. It was winter after all.

He sat down on the snow-colored commode and did his business. He tried to stand up, but his behind wouldn’t budge.

Worse yet, the water around his skates had since frozen up.

He cried for help, worried that it wouldn’t come.

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Friday Fictioneers – Sweet Dreams

(Author’s note: Still in a splint. Things acting up, but I’ll be fine. 84 calendar days until I end my working career in Korea. As for today’s fictioneers, I originally was going to go with “Stuck In A Closet With Vanna White”, but I felt like something…more. Enjoy today’s fictioneers! )

closet

© R.W.F.

Sweet Dreams

by Miles H. Rost

“Desi…”

Desiree and Mike had been picked by lottery to end up in the closet. Mike was fully sober, but had been intoxicated by something much stronger than booze.

And he could not see anything.

“Mike…keep going.”

Hot and heavy it was, heightened by Air Supply on the portable radio beside them.

“Desi, my finger…it’s stuck.”

Everything stopped, except for the guitars in the song.

“That’s my bra, Mike. Take it off.”

Another moment of slight movement, and a sudden shift of things crashed down, including a clang.

“Mike?”

She felt around, finding a clock beside Mike’s head.

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