Friday Fictioneers – Car Wash

(Author’s Note: Adjusting to two computers is a bit of fun, but also a bit of work. Especially when everything you need to do is on one computer…except for important stuff. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers. Also, if you get a chance, go on over to my last Fictioneers story, which I forgot to add to the list last week: https://musicandfiction.com/2018/11/22/friday-fictioneers-so-flows-the-current)

nick-allen-from-sandra-c

© Nick Allen

Car Wash

by Miles H. Rost

“Oy! Marty! You need more 5W30!”

Marty Fieldman looked at his new full-service car wash and oil service, and sighed. Barely a week open, and so popular that he couldn’t keep product in stock.

“Got an order in for it. It’ll be here tomorrow.”

“You’re on your last four, man.”

Rico was hid faithful assistant, but always ended up sounding more like a nagging parent.

Marty sighed and dropped 30 dollars into Rico’s hands.

“Get 8 quarts, or we close up 5W30 service for the day.”

“Right on, boss.”

He smiled at his employees, currently buffing a Mustang.

“It’s all worth it.”

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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)

Friday Fictioneers – Sweet Freedom

Friday Fictioneers is here! Enjoy!

© Al Forbes

Sweet Freedom

by Miles H. Rost

“Got it loaded up?” Mark asked.

“Yeah. Took about an hour to do, but she’s still in good condition,” his brother, Peter, replied.

When they first saw the old jalopy, they knew that they had to have her. But it cost almost everything they had to get it from the owner, who hated what it was and was leaving it to rot.

“Can’t believe how much it took to get her out of that prison. But just wait, with a little time, we’ll get her running again. I mean, we already got her looking clean.”

The car beamed in the sunshine, free.

Friday Fictioneers – Punk Rock

Good day, everyone! This blog is about to go boom, as in explode with people visiting soon. I have a facebook page that people can come and visit (and like) at this link. I’m also on Twitter, just look for @MusicAndFiction

Also, before I go with the show today, make sure you read over the last two stories that have come out. These are big ones, what I call the “normal” stories. Get inspired, get involved, and enjoy them. You can read “Angelia” and “We Fight Another Day” at the links. 

Now, time for the Friday Fictioneers story!

Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

Punk Rock

by Miles Rost

Three guys, drunk as sin, walking home from a punk concert and pub crawl. All three passed by a window.

“Oi! Wot ya take an eye at that!”

“Wow! It’s got spikes an’ everything!”

“Yeah! That’s definitely punk!”

All three roared out in laughter, as they kept walking past.

After a few moments, the pile of rocks started to lift up from where it was. Underneath it popped out a head.

“Oooh! I really like this style! I think this hat will go great with my rhino-stone dress,” the head said, standing up straight. Under the hat was a very stylish socialite, opening her very expensive purse.

“The hat rocks, ma’am,” the store owner said, as he chuckled while collecting the money.

Friday Fictioneers – You Need To Stay

Greetings fans and friends, I should be back up to full steam for stories next week. Other things have been taking me away from the attention, but I should be back with more ideas. Here’s the Fictioneers for the week:

copyright Roger Bultot

You Need To Stay

“Honey, I told you that you need to stay home.”

“But, sweetie, if we’re going to have a comfortable life, I need to go and follow those white lines.”

“I’m sorry, but you cannot go. You cannot be out there all the time. You’re not married to the road.”

“If I’m going to make money for us, I have to be.”

“Doesn’t matter now. Look out the window.”

A few seconds later…

“AGH! My TRUCK! What did you do to it?”

“Didn’t you think it was strange you found me naked in the woods, and wanted to marry me right away?”

“What?!”

“You married a plant nymph, ya ninny. Now get in here and do the dishes!”

Harbour Town

Harbour Town 

by Miles H. Rost

Across the entirety of the port city of Stewartsport, it was said that when 5:15 came around, the only thing you could hear were the many whistles from each of the 20 terminals in the city. Like a choir opening a Sunday service with a loud start, the whistles blew simultaneously.

It was this signal that the day ended, the night began, and on a Friday night like this one, it would be one humdinger of a night.

Down at Terminal 10, Cha Yeong-Jin had just finished loading a skid of incandescent light bulbs. Affectionately known as CJ, he was someone who finished his job when he finished his job, not when the whistle blew. However, today, he was right on time and was able to leave quickly.

CJ grew up in South Korea, the son of a shipbuilder father. Growing up in the island town of Geoje, the seas were in his blood. However, he was also a traveller, and someone who wanted to see the world. Working as a stevedore, he worked in places like Luzon, Singapore, and Sydney before he ended up in Stewartsport. The longest he stayed was a couple of years, and he left only because he felt too comfortable.

He was in Stewartsport for only two months before this night. As he walked off the docks and out to his small truck, a hand landed on his shoulder. CJ immediately turned around and looked into the big mean eyes of his co-worker, Tarik “Evil Eye” Adadark. Eyes which immediately brightened up, and expressed relief and happiness.

“Ah, CJ. Isn’t it great that Friday night has come?” Tarik chuckled, slapping CJ on the back like an old pal. Which was to say that they were, as he and Tarik were friends since their time in Singapore, and travelled together on the same jobs.

“It is a great thing indeed. I just can’t wait to clean up and hit the town. Since it’s a three day weekend, I want to wake up tomorrow in an unfamiliar room,” CJ responded, his command of English impeccable for a kid who never had any academy training.

“Then I think I know the place to go. There’s a great place just off Chambers that has not only good quality drinks and good quality women. It may just be your lucky night!”

After an hour of cleaning up and getting things ready, CJ and Tarik were dressed up and on the way down to the bar on Chambers.

“You’re doing the blue jean thing, T?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling a bit lucky tonight, too. At least you have the chance to not only catch a woman, but land a good business deal at the same time. Taking tips from Barney Stinson?” he responded, making reference to a popular character on a show that they watched constantly while there.

“Dress to impress, dress for success, do not settle for anything less,” CJ responded, smiling, “My dad taught me that. Probably explains why he had three wives.”

They went to a grill and had something to eat, then proceeded to the bar that Tarik referenced.

Since it was payday, they had a good amount of money on their persons. Knowing how rough some ports could be, there was always a second set of documents on their person just in case they were robbed. Three wallets were the usual with stevedores and longshoremen. CJ knew this, and patted the side of his knee, acknowledging to himself that he still had his most important wallet with him.

They passed by two beautiful women as they made their way to the bar. One was a tall, black haired Chinese woman who looked like she walked out of a fashion magazine, and the other was a striking redhead who seemed have features found in Irish women. CJ looked at the redhead and he instantly turned on the charm as they passed.

“Oh, come on baby! Take a hold of my hand! The fire is burning!” he called out, just after they passed. The redhead turned around and smiled. She gave him a wink, turned around, and kept walking. CJ cursed his current luck.

The bar on Chambers was called “Underworld”, and the owner/bartender was a tall wiry fellow named David. A former Israeli Defense Force soldier, David may have looked like a pencil, but he was able to kill a foe with two clicks of his fingers.

“Oy, Daveed!” Tarik called out.

“What’ll it be, Evil Eye? Did you bring the Korean with ya?”

“Right here, ya nut.” CJ responded.

“Glad to see ya! Care for some Rumple Mintz?”

“Not tonight! Get me a Glen and Ginger Ale, and another shot of Glen 12 Year.”

David acknowledged and made up the drinks for CJ. CJ, in return, gave him a hundred dollar bill and hold him to keep a tab on his drinks.

“Don’t worry about me, let’s just get you a woman tonight. “