“You’ve heard Uncle Bo talk about train-hopping to go somewhere-or-nother almost every night we camped.”
“But Ma said half-a-what Uncle Bo said was rose-glassed reminiscing.”
“Ma just said that to keep us home longer. Pa needed us to do the farmin’. Well, there’s no farmin’ left. Pas drunk it all away and the bank got the dirt now. You know Ma is going back East. I ain’t a-goin-be no city dandy. Is that what you want?”
“’Course I don’t”
“Then stop bein’ so fickle-hearted and let’s run.”
I hope you are well. I have just finished typing Mr. Tumulty news briefing. Yes, that Mr. Tumulty! (The private secretary to President Wilson) I have a temporary promotion. (If I do well, who knows?) Tumulty’s previous assistant has been out sick. (We are hoping it is not the Spanish flu, as Margaret, the President’s daughter has contracted it. I have been told that several Secret Service are sick also.)
Mr. Tumulty went home today not well. I am being vigilant. We never take our face-masks off here in the office.
“Sit down. You schlep.” It came from a monstrous brute seated at the bar.
“OK. How about … An oyster, and a lobster, and a goldfish go into a bar …”
The comedian quickly ducks as a napkin filled with goodness knows what approaches his face.
“Not that one either. I’m not from around these parts. The first time I was driving through …” This one was drowned by raucous boos and horrid hisses.
“No biographical jokes either.” The comedian boldly stepped closer to the microphone. “Knock, knock…”
The audience was instantly quiet.
Written for THE CARROT RANCH CHALLENGE:December 19, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that features an open mic night. Take a character backstage, on stage or into the deep woods. Go where the prompt leads!
“Oh, there’s no place like …” carolers were approaching my door.
I’d gotten a call from my elderly neighbor just seconds ago. “They’re all over.” She whispered. “All over the street.” She was frantic. Should she call 911… she thought she should… but she was sure the police wouldn’t believe her.
Before I could decide how I could be of assistance, there was a knocking on my door.
Parting the curtains, I peeped.
Gnomes… and gnomes… and gnomes. As far as the eye could see.
“… For the holidays you can’t beat gnome sweet gnome!”
And then they left.
Written for THE CARROT RANCH 99- WORD CHALLENGE: 12-12-19.
Requirements: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a gnome. It can be a garden gnome, a Christmas Joulutonttu, or a sauna protector. You can write magical realism, or feature contemporary gnome-like product. Go where the prompt leads!