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

Copyright Dale Rogerson
Millions queued to ride the Peace Wheel.
It had appeared overnight, a mystery. Shortly after, the crime rate dropped to zero. Countries dismantled their arsenals and armies. Warlords took up farming. People the world over stopped concentrating on jobs, on ambitions.
Hate, the will to fight, disappeared. People were suddenly âgetting alongâ with each other.
Hidden in high orbit, Dresh NâGak smiled. In days the population of this backwards backwater planet would have lost all self-will. They would be ripe for conquest! He twisted a dial, increasing signal strength.
The âPeace Wheelâ thrummed with renewed energy.
FF – The Aspiring Musician
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Anshu Bhojnagarwala.
Another story which came straight into my head. Yay!

Copyright Anshu Bhojnagarwala
âWhat the hell is that?â
âI got it from the dump. Pretty great, huh?â
âItâs got a tree growing out of it.â
âYouâve heard of house music? Garage?â
âYessssâŚ.â
âThis is gonna be âPlantâ.â
âJesus.â
âHere goesâŚâ
Thunk! Crash!
A catâs tail, poking out from beneath the rubble, twitched once and was still.
âYOU KILLED MR FLUFFY, YOU MURDERER!â
âMaybe it was a bit knackered. I saw a guitar with mushrooms growing out of it down the dump⌠âFungusâ! Awesome!â
Meanwhile Mr Fluffy, one of his nine lives sadly gone, extricated himself and trotted away in search of a less insane human.
FF – Don’t be a Jeff!
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by C.E. Ayr.

Copyright C.E. Ayr
Jeff bid goodbye to his mates and left the pub. The other members of the motorcycle gang left en masse but Jeff slunk around the corner to his piddly little moped. As his fellows roared off on their testosterone-fuelled hogs, Jeff opened his throttle and charged off at his top speed of 17mph, head down.
But â too late! He had been spotted! The video was online! Jeffâs street cred was ruined!
Don’t let this happen to you. Visit Mike’s Bikes today! Get yourself a Harley!
10% discount for members of the Deathâs Head Slasher Biker Gang
Donât be a Jeff!
FF – Ye Tragedy at Red Mountain
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jean L. Hays.
Here’s the link for all the stories. I don’t know how to make the big blue froggy work đŚ
I was in a weird mood when I wrote this and I had a headache. So here’s a weird story which will give you a headache.

Copyright Jean L. Hays
Ye Tragedy at Red Mountain
And so did it come to pass that the killer slugs reached Red Mountain, and thus did the townsfolk shelter in ye Deli, for its shelves were filled to bursting with salt.
And the townsfolk did surround ye bastion with salt, and the slugs did dissolve, and the townsfolk did rejoice, and did not escape as they were urged!
As the salt did deplete, removed they their eye-glasses to construct a giant magnifier. And brave Sebastian did climb the roof with the glass to fry the slugs.
And then did the sun go in and the townsfolk did die.
Idiots.
The End.
Evil Squirrel’s Contest of Whatever 2019
It’s that time of the year again! This is the sixth annual Evil Squirrel Contest of Whatever and this year’s theme is “A squirrel walks into a bar…” That’s pretty open-ended, which actually made it a bit harder…
I pulled out all the stops here and engaged the services of DraliDoodles(TM). After a long period of inaction, I was glad to see they hadn’t lost their touch – their artwork is as realistic and awe-inspiring as ever! I have a suspicion they re-used the same images in every picture, though…
Now the warning – if you’re in any way upset by rudeness and/or blatant double entrendres, close your browser now! It relies very heavily on multiple meanings for words, but I’m afraid this is a very busy month and that’s all my childish brain could manage đŚ
The nameâs Gnutty. Gnutty McSquirrel. Yes, I’m tall. I’m bigger than the average squirrel. Iâm also a PI. That’s a dick to you. A private dick.
There’s huge demand for a big dick in this town.

I come to this bar for the nuts. And the beer. But mostly for the nuts.
I love big nuts.
This broad walks in. Legs up to here. She sits on a bar stool. My bar stool. She sips the froth off a beer. My beer. She eats some nuts. My nuts.
Thatâs quite a woman, eating my nuts.

She tells me she needs a dick. I tell her Iâm available, for a price. She reaches for her purse. I tell her thatâs not what I had in mind. I need my pipes cleaning. She comes back to mine and we go to my back room.
I expose my organ.

She grabs a cloth and gets rubbing. First the pipes, then the keyboard. I play a few chords from Phantom of the Opera. Much better.
I ask if sheâd like a slow comfortable screw against the wall.
She says she would. I grab the vodka and liqueurs and ask her what she wants. She says she cheated on her husband but canât remember who with. It was dark, she says.

She needs to know who it was. She wants to make sure he doesnât tell hubbie. She wants to shout at him. Yell at him. Scream at him.
She wants to give him a good tongue-lashing.
Turns out it was me. Thought she looked familiar. Easy case. I won’t talk. Maybe. For a price.
Told you I was a big dick.












