Tag Archives: Flash fiction

2521. Ezra’s lily plot

Ezra Connell had a lily garden. It was quite big. Lilies were his hobby. And what a picture it was when they were in flower!

When his wife was alive she had an allergy to lily pollen so certain varieties of lilies were banned. But now that she had passed on he could cultivate whatever variety of lily he wanted.

He had Asiatic lilies in one section of the garden and Oriental lilies in another. He had even tried to cross an Asiatic with an Oriental but the result looked a bit like someone had dragged the bloom through the mud. Another area was for Martagon lilies, and these were probably his favourite. Another area was for Tiger lilies, and yet another for Trumpet lilies. He even had quite a range of Patio lilies growing in pots and placed against the garden wall.

Thank goodness he had all this because Ezra Connell’s lily plot is the only plot you’ll find in this story.

2519. An experience of a lifetime

Some cynical readers will no doubt question the veracity of this story. To each their own – such people are entitled to believe what they like, but I know this story to be true.

Grayson was out in his substantial backyard planting seed potatoes in his garden when an alien space craft landed on the lawn. It was slightly larger than a city bus and shaped like one of those elongated medicine pills except it was a thousand times bigger! There were no doors or windows. The texture of the thing looked a bit like asbestos except it was faint blue.

An opening appeared in the side and two men ventured out. They looked remarkably the same as humans. They approached Grayson.

“Excuse us,” said one, “we’re sorry to have perhaps given you a fright. What you see is not our normal bodily form but we didn’t want to scare you. We wondered if you could help us. The skin of our space craft is pale blue. That means it is extremely low on fuel. Could we – this sounds so silly to you perhaps – could we borrow a cup of sugar? That’s all we need.”

“Goodness!” said Grayson. “I’ve got a whole bag of sugar you can have so you’ll have a backup supply.”

Grayson went in his house and returned with the sugar. The two men were extremely grateful.

“We’re not meant to associate with humans,” said one, “but desperate times call for desperate measures. We would like to thank you by giving you a special gift. You’re 68 and live alone. We investigated you before we landed. You have no living relatives. If you wish we could place you in our machine – the process takes about an hour – and it scans your body and corrects every imperfection. When done you’ll look about 30 and your body will never age.”

How exciting! Grayson leapt at the offer. And it did! The process took a whole Earth hour. When he looked in the mirror he couldn’t believe his reformed youthfulness. He’d forgotten he used to have auburn hair!

The bus-sized medicine-looking pill went whish and disappeared into the sky. Its skin had a healthy glow of pale pink.

What an experience! It took several years but Grayson gradually realized there was some extra-terrestrial being living in his body.

2487. Password change

Hugh had so many passwords for this that and the other that he decided to simplify it. He made a list of all his passwords (there were about twenty) and next to it he typed what program or institution they were for. For example, his online banking was violet3549 which was the name of an aunt and the street number when he was a kid. The password to his online medical records was sicksicksick. And so on.

He decided his password for everything was going to be honolulu71; Honolulu being where he met his wife and 71 being the year he was born. He would spend all of Sunday afternoon changing all his passwords to that. The first password change went well. The password to his favourite computer game was now honolulu71. It was going to be a lot easier than he thought.

The second password change prompted him with a message: Your password must have at least one capital letter. No worries! He changed the password to Honolulu71.

The third password change prompted the message: you must use at least twelve characters and one must be a punctuation mark. Hugh changed the password to Honolulu71$#.

The fourth password change came with the message: You have already used honolulu71 previously on this site. Here are some similar suggestions to choose from… Hugh changed the password to hawaii72.

This went on all afternoon. In the end he consulted an online password creating program. He copied and pasted it into every password change. Every program accepted it. It was kjfb47fngkskHowenwlvk9309009().

He forgot to write it down.

2476. Hospital emergency

Doctor: Hold still. I’ve got some of it out with the tweezers.

Cynthia: Ouch, doctor. It hurts.

Doctor: There! That’s quite a big piece. Have you just been to a fancy dress party?

Cynthia: No. I am a real princess. Be more careful. Don’t forget that I’m a princess.

Doctor: You and your parents might think so, but in truth you’re a spoiled little brat. Now hold still. This would be a lot easier if there wasn’t blood all over the place.

Cynthia: But I am a real princess.

Doctor: Yeah right. Anyway, so how did you get all these shards of glass embedded in your right foot?

2475. Am I a debauched sleazebag?

Only very rarely do I receive a complaint about these stories. Someone has pointed out that there’s very little sex going on in any of the tales. They wondered if I was a prude or merely inadequate. I explained that such a thing was occurring in these romances by insinuation, and not by bold, in-your-face descriptions of you-know-what.

However, to counteract this horrific accusation today’s story is riddled with sex. Sex sex non-stop sex. If you think you might be offended by this fair enough, but don’t read on. You might end up thinking that I’ve got sex on the brain – that I am an out-and-out sex maniac, a dirty old man, a degenerate lecher, a debauched sleazebag, an insatiable nookie machine. Anyway, here is today’s story:

Have you seen what all these summer flies have been doing on the ceiling?

2439. It’s a clown’s life

When José joined the circus as a clown three years ago it was the last thing he wanted to do. He found it humiliating walking round in oversized shoes squirting water through a fake rose on his lapel and distributing balloons to children. Ha! Ha! Ha! He knew he wasn’t very good at it, but a job is a job.

It was almost inevitable that something calamitous could happen, and it did. He was giving out balloons to little kiddies and squirting water on the rude ones.

Sitting there slap-bang in the front was a widow with her three children. José couldn’t avoid giving the children a balloon each. But would the widow see through his clown disguise? Would she recognize him as the guy who three years earlier had murdered her husband?

2431. A hearty speech

Tara used to joke about her age quite a bit. She was nearing eighty and the retirement home was planning a delightful afternoon tea to celebrate the occasion. Tara knew she would be presented with a bunch of expensive flowers and a card signed by most people in the retirement home. She had better plan her speech of thanks.

Of course it would be self-deprecating. She would say how overjoyed she was with their generosity and even crack a little joke about growing old.

The day arrived. The afternoon tea began. Tara was presented with a card and a bunch of lovely flowers. She stood to speak.

Dear friends – Thank you so much for these gorgeous flowers and your hearty good wishes. It seems that it hasn’t taken long for me to get to eighty. I still think of myself as a sprightly forty! I can’t believe how quickly life passes by. As I joked to Yvette just this morning: Goodness! I’ve only got another thirty years left! And so we are having… aaaaahhh…

Footnote: Unlike the sudden death in the story above (!) For those who don’t know it this is a link to a video of a delightful grace before meals:

Funny Prayer about Getting Old – Home Instead – YouTube

2269. The naked truth

Of course Gavin wasn’t his real name and nor was he Jemima Puddle-Duck. Jemima Puddle-Duck was simply one of the many Beatrix Potter characters in costume at the Theme Park. Gavin arrived at work in costume and left work in costume. No one had actually seen what he looked like – which was just as well because he wasn’t human. In fact, he didn’t originate from this planet at all. He was an alien from outer space; hence the name “Gavin” because his real name was a series of unpronounceable grunts.

He arrived and left work in costume not because he didn’t want his workmates to see him but because when he commuted to work other people on the bus would wonder what was going on. He didn’t mind his workmates knowing because they were all aliens in costume too. In fact the Theme Park had been founded by aliens and the operation was used to investigate the way Planet Earth operated.

But now the Theme Park was running into problems. Fewer and fewer families seemed to visit. The costumes were looking stale and dowdy. Some new life had to be injected into the Theme Park. That was when Gavin had an idea.

All the Beatrix Potter characters threw off their costumes and stood as aliens in a brand new theme for the Theme Park. The new theme was Science Fiction. Visitors flocked. They had never seen such wonderful costumes. Those alien characters looked so real. And that’s the naked truth.

2256. Over the teacups

Pricilla was an expert at tasseography, and she made a pretty penny at the trade. Of course, she did it for fun although some people took it seriously. To read tea leaves in cups brightened everyone’s day. Occasionally a group of friends would come along together and after drinking their tea would insist on a communal reading. It was good for a laugh!

Sometimes however Priscilla took things more seriously. Reading teacups could be more of an opportunity to listen and help people who were at a loss. They had come to the tasseographer because they were reaching out for help. Pricilla was an expert at divining those who were distraught and bringing out the best in people. Telling fortunes by reading tea leaves was simply a vehicle. In fact, once in a very long while, a friendship would form “over the teacups”.

Once a woman had come along to have her tea leaves read (although it should be noted that Pricilla also read coffee dregs if that was the client’s preference). Pricilla could tell she was distressed. It turned out that the woman had murdered her husband. It had been all over the papers and the police had been at a loss as to who had done the dastardly deed. And here was Mavis A. Clenovavitch of 29 Hartford Lane (sorry, I shouldn’t have used her name) telling Pricilla what the police had spent weeks trying to find out.

Now things had reached a pretty pass for Pricilla. Should she, or should she not, tell the police? I mean, was she under any obligation to report such things or should she regard confidentiality as sacred?

In the end Pricilla decided not to tell a soul. That is why to this day Mavis A. Clenovavitch of 29 Hartford Lane walks scot free, and both she and Pricilla enjoy the substantial fortune Mavis’ late husband left in his will.

2254. Time of birth

Heather was 84 when she discovered she had possibly been adopted. Her adopted parents were long dead, as indeed would have been her biological parents.

Her day had started as quite ordinary. She still had all her marbles and was active for her age. It was late morning when she went to check the mailbox. Her life was about to be turned upside down. Kitty, a dear friend and neighbour, had rather nonchalantly asked a few weeks back at what time was Heather born. Heather said she didn’t have a clue but it might be on the birth certificate. So she wrote away for a copy and on this day the birth certificate arrived.

There was no time of birth, but the couple named as her parents were not the parents she had known. In fact there were other little titbits of misinformation. The date was wrong by several days. In fact, the date was possibly correct. Heather had spent a life time wrongfully thinking her birthday was on the 12th whereas in fact it had been two days earlier on the 10th.

The place of birth was news to her as well. She had always presumed she was born in Thrushport, but the certificate clearly stated Sunnytown. And splashed across the information in another hand-writing was the word – ADOPTED.

But the biggest news of all was her name. She had always been called Heather; plain Heather and nothing else. The birth certificate clearly stated her name was Philomena Heather. Philomena! Clear as a bell – Philomena Heather Brighton.

“But Heather,” exclaimed Kitty the dear friend and neighbour. “Brighton is your married name!”

“This,” declared Heather, “almost certainly calls for a celebratory wine.”