FF – Not To Be
Here is my contribution for Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle hosts, and also provided this week’s photo.
I’m a bit late this week. I finally got a little holiday now that furloughed staff are back in the office, and I forgot what day it was!

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
“Ah, darling, the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd…”
“I’d say you had that backwards, lovie-darling, but have you seen the audience tonight?”
“Plebs to a man.”
“Why let such riff-raff in? We are Actors. The hoi polloi have no right to enjoy our supreme talent, lovie.”
“Agree, darling, agree.”
Um, guys, your mics are on…
“Oh, um, well, lovie, that’s enough rehearsal for next week’s play, ‘The Arrogance of Actors’, um, um, oh.”
Guys, you know it’s the ‘El Lobo’ cartel’s annual get-together tonight, right…?
…
“To be… or not to be, that is the…”
Rat-a-tat-a-tat-bang-bang-rat-a-tat!
Not to be, evidently.
FF – You Can’t Get the Staff
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jean L. Hays.

Copyright Jean L Hays
“Ooh, a surprise by the gate, I wonder what it could be?”
Nancy excitedly opened the box. She peeled back the lid and froze. Eyes wide, she dropped it, screaming. Her husband’s head rolled out, dead eyes staring at her as she sank to her knees.
Her fists clenched, resolve fixing her features. Trey Walker. She would track him down. She would track him down, by God, and she would… have very stern words with him.
She’d told him specifically to leave the head round the back.
Out of sight.
You just can’t get the staff these days.
FF – Problem Solved
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by A. Noni Mouse. Hey, that’s how I spell it too!

Copyright A. Noni Mouse
That’s the dishes done. Maybe I should put everything away. You’re ever a stickler for cleanliness, aren’t you dear? Oh, how you shout when I do something wrong. And your fists… oh, your fists…
No, I’m going to leave them be. Let them drip dry. I don’t suppose you’ll mind, will you dear? Not after that lovely treat I added to your supper last night.
Speaking of which, I do believe you’re starting to smell. I think I’ll pop you in the garden. Under the new patio, with a nice view of the compost heap.
You always loved the garden, didn’t you dear?
FF – RoboCity
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Na’ama Yehuda.
I had a lot of trouble thinking of a story for this one, and a very busy day at work too.

Copyright Na’ama Yehuda
“We’ve been here ages. Nobody’s moving. What’s going on?”
The manhole covers opened and a horde of machines, emblazoned with ‘StreetBot’, shot out and began cleaning the road. A nearby pedestrian noted the motionless cars, saw his chance and began to cross. A bot, emblazoned “JaywalkerBot” appeared, took aim and fired.
His bullet-ridden corpse was, of course, dragged away by a small army of ‘CorpseBots’.
“I say, they have a bot for everything! Well, I’m not waiting here any longer.”
His car moved off through the red light.
Unsurprisingly – I’m sure you’ve guessed – enter heavily-armed, missiles primed, ‘RedLightBot’…
FF – Tales From The Battlefield
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Todd Foltz.
I’ve been working my way through the “Sharpe” films recently. Based on the novels of Bernard Cornwell, they tell the tale of a soldier during the Napoleonic wars of the early 19th century, raised from the ranks to become an officer (but not a Gentleman, obviously).

“I say, by Jove, it’s hot enough to fry an egg out here!”
“Think I’ll try.”
Sizzle.
“I say, Sir, you may not be a Gentleman but by the Devil’s beard you shall act like one!”
“Calm down.”
“The cheek! Fetch your musket, Sir, we go to decimate the village yonder!”
“It’s farmers. Women and children.”
“They have defied the British Empire, Sir, and they shall pay, Sir!”
“I have a better idea.”
BANG!
“Ugh. You’ve killed me, Sir!”
“Yep. I’m off to warn them the English are coming. Fancy a fried egg while you bleed out?”
Fling! Splat!
“Urgghhhhhhh…”

















