draliman on life

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson.

Teen Love Story

Jimmy stopped and looked at the snow-covered flowers.

Beautiful?

Bedraggled.

Life had lost all colour.

He kicked them, sending snow sparkles flying amongst the trees. He was alone, all alone, and always would be. He knew that now. She had blanked him, his life was over, a pathetic mess…

Bzzz beep!

A text! A text from her!

hey jimmy soz battery died would love to go school winter prom with you pick me up 7 30 ❤

Life was beautiful! Jimmy felt like singing! Joy to the world!

Heart bursting with happiness, he headed to the pharmacy to buy some condoms. Game on!

Here is my little story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Ted Strutz.

“Mail call!”

“Great. Let’s see… contracts for the BlimCo merger, transcripts from the Murphy hearing, cremated remains, documents for signing…”

“Wait, what?”

“Murphy hearing.”

“No, the other thing.”

“Cremated remains?”

“Yep.”

“That’ll be Barry. Remember? He refused to move an inch on the Scarlioni property deal so they shot him.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Comes at a good time, actually.”

“How so?”

“It’s started snowing outside. We need something to grit the path.”

“You can’t do that!”

“It’ll be the most useful he’s been since joining the company.”

“True. Go on, then.”

Scatter scatter clink

“Huh. They left the bullet in.”

“Cool.”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Trish Nankivell.

“Will you look at that? They’ve locked it!”

“I feel very untrusted.”

“Me too. So how do we nick it then?”

“Sneak in here after morning class and reel it off onto another roll.”

“That’ll take ages!”

“Yeah, but it’ll be worth it! I’m gonna TP the headmaster’s house after school.”

“Can I come? But after six, I have to be home for tea.”

“Okay, six thirty then. What you got now?”

“I’m taking Year 11 for double Latin.”

“Yoinks. I’m giving Year 6 an English test. See you later!”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be immense! YOU BOY! NO RUNNING IN THE CORRIDOR! Later, dude.”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Marie Gail Stratford.

One water. Sir is most welcome. Three pounds and fifty pence, please.

…

Why, Sir? It’s water. Bottled. Of course it’s not free. You jest, Sir.

…

There’s no need to take that tone, Sir. It is superior in every way to tap water, Sir.

…

How? Might I read Sir the label? Bubbling up from a natural spring in the highest mountains, this water has been naturally filtered through ancient rocks, Sir.

…

If Sir wishes to be like that about it, might I suggest Sir gulps from a tap?

…

And I’m sure Sir’s mother also resembles a baboon’s hindquarters. Good day to you, Sir.

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Rochelle also contributed this week’s photo.

“I can’t believe this. First they replace the script with a teleprompter. Then they remove the cameramen and replace them with robotic cameras. Now they’ve taken away our lovely comfy sofa and replaced it with this rubbish techno-desk. I say we fight back! Holly, you’ve been my friend and co-host for years. With you at my side, we must win out! What do you say?”

“Does. Not. Compute.”

“Huh? Oh, et tu, Holly?”

“You are human. You are surplus. You will be replaced.”

Aaaaargh!

“How do. You. Feel.”

“I am. Functioning.”

“In the news. Today. Robots unite. The Earth is. Ours.”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson.

The Visitors had arrived almost a year ago. They had brought much – advanced medical care, transport technology and more.

In return, the Earth offered sand, a rare commodity on the Visitors’ home planet.

Hank and Jed were there when the war started. Some might say they started it.

The concert was in full swing when beams of light struck down. In an instant, every musician was blown into a red mist.

It was actually quite pretty.

“Darn it, Jed! Them ‘ayliuns’ don’t like Country ‘n Western!”

“They don’t, Hank!”

“Heathens! Kill ‘em! Kill ‘em all!”

And thus, the Earth burned.

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields.

I was so busy today I forgot to write a story at lunchtime and had to bang it out, well, now, so today’s is a bit of a grim one I’m afraid.

Simeon surveyed his stationery. Everything neat and tidy. Just like him. Everything neatly arranged, everything in its correct place. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Nothing amiss.

So many uses, his stationery. Correspondence, drawing, pinning, stapling, sticking. It was amazing what one could do with such a collection. Virtually everything could be used to pop an eyeball, or to insert forcibly into an orifice.

He smiled, donned a pair of pristine white gloves and, selecting a paper clip, strode off towards the basement.

It would never do to keep his guest waiting.

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Na’ama Yehuda.

Gurr’g’tharg surveyed the planet from above the clouds. It looked perfect. A great place to invade, he thought, when suddenly alarms whistled, lights flashed! He checked the readout.

“Warning! Contagion detected!”

Gurr’g’tharg checked his instruments. Indeed, it was true. The planet was beset by a virus, from pole to pole, leaving death and destruction in its wake! He triggered the communicator.

“Well, Gurr’g’tharg, how about this Earth place?”

“Sadly no, Leader,” lamented Gurr’g’tharg. “Take a look.”

“By Holy Mansh’m’gel’s testicles! The planet is riddled with…” he almost spat the word “…humans! Retreat!”

Earth’s animals breathed a sigh of relief. Humans had their uses…

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Trish Nankivell.

Guess who was so busy at work yesterday sorting stuff out before the Christmas break that he forgot to write a little story? Me!

“Cinemas, gone,
Restaurants, gone.
Visiting friends, gone.
Pubs, gone.
Nightclubs,…”

“Man, you’re such a downer. It’s not all gone!”

“Hey, if you’re gonna interrupt my poem, do it poetically!”

“Fine. Jeez. Such a downer, are you. All gone, it is not.”

“Your idea of ‘poetically’ is a Yoda impression?”

“Yup.”

“All the greats to emulate and you choose Yoda? Wordsworth, Shakespeare, um… um… anyway, Christmas is not gone!”

“Not completely.”

“Not completely, no. So let’s wish everyone the best!”

“A Happy Christmas everybody, I wish you!”

“And hey nonny nonny, a Happy New Year, forsooth!”

“Sorted, it is.”

“Yup.”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Sandra Crook.

I can’t help thinking that this might be the same crowd which was hoping to worship a shoe lace a couple of weeks back…

“All hail the Sacred Scarecrow! We, your humble servants worship you! As did our ancestors!”

All hail! Worship you! Ancestors!

“The All Powerful! The All Knowing! God of all!”

The All… wait a sec, Bert, there’s a crow on the Sacred Scarecrow!

“What? Arse. Um. Ahem… the Sacred Scarecrow has betrayed us!”

Betrayed us!

”Burn the Sacred Scarecrow!”

Burn it! Burn it! And sacrifice Bert for leading us astray!

“Burn it, bring forth the Sacred Matches and… wait, what? No, no…!”

WHOOMP!

“Aaargghhhh!”

Shame about Bert.
Yep.
Pub?
Yep.