Tag Archives: Flash fiction

1437. Naming the baby

Choosing a name for the baby is almost impossible these days. It’s a boy and I have been going through lists on the internet and everywhere else.

At first I thought of something simple like John, with no middle name. Just plain John. Then I thought that some people would start calling him Jack, and even though I like John I don’t like Jack.

I also thought of James. But James sounds a bit snooty and upper class. I like Jim but some people would think it stood for James.

It’s the transmutation of names that bugs me. For example, Bartholomew would get shortened to Bart. Michael would get shortened to Mick or Mike. Richard becomes Dick, Anthony becomes Tony, Bernard becomes Barney. The only way around all this would be to go for something unusual, so that’s where I started looking.

So I considered Zenith and Steinway and Fahrenheit. In the end I settled on Caligula. For a few days and then I changed my mind. Perhaps Reginúlfr. What do you think?

Help! I keep changing my mind. I know I have to decide. He starts school on Monday.

1430. Frumpy Gabriella

There were two words in the English language that Gabriella despised: “frock” and “frump”. “Frock” because, even though it wasn’t, it sounded like something her great grandmother would wear. “Frump” because it sounded as if the woman concerned was dumpy, like a sack of wheat.

To be honest, Gabriella wasn’t God’s gift to the planet when it came to looks. She was slightly portly even though she was only sixteen. And she never dressed particularly fashionably because she didn’t have that much money in her weekly allowance.

She used to be teased at school. “You’re a frump in a frock” the other kids would shout. “A frump in a frock.”

Gabriella went to quite a fashionable shop to look for something nice that she might be able to afford, like a scarf or something. She did! She found a beret that she thought made her look quite smart. After purchase she filled out a form that asked why you would buy such an item of clothing. Gabriella wrote, “Because kids call me a frump in a frock”. And it won! It won! Gabriella didn’t even know it was a competition! She won ten thousand dollars’ worth of fashionable items!

1422. Quite frankly, I’m sick of it

Quite frankly, I’m sick of it, Heidi. I come home from work and the place is a mess. The kids’ rooms are a mess. The kids haven’t even done their homework. The only food to look forward to is precooked stuff out of a package. You just heat it up in the microwave like you don’t care. The dishes don’t get done. The kids eat too much junk.

Then all you do is complain about every little thing. You want a better car. The lawn needs mowing – well, mow it yourself if that’s what you want. You haven’t taken the trash out. You’re not separating trash into recyclables. You don’t take any pride in your appearance any more. You look like an old cow.

Oh yes, Heidi, you have a cold. When don’t you have a cold? Moan moan moan. I cut down your work hours at the factory to only 30 hours a week so you could do some home-making stuff you so desperately wanted and all you do is moan moan moan. Quite frankly, I’m sick of it.

Heidi pulled out a gun and shot him dead. It was premeditated.

1421. Memorable and happy day

Trudi had made an extensive grocery list. She was going to make sure that today would be both memorable and happy. She was going to prepare a special meal. Her husband of eleven years had suggested it. Just the two of them. There were no children. Trudi had hoped for a family but Archie had said no.

Anyway, this was to be a celebration for no reason. It’s good, said Archie, to do that now and again. It was easy to say, thought Trudi, but she was the one who had to do all the work; all the cooking. Hence the long shopping list.

When she got home from the shops she had to make several trips from the car to the kitchen to carry all the food. Archie was watching the sports on tele. Trudi began to put things away in the cupboards before beginning her baking. Then she remembered. How could have she forgotten? But forget she had.

She had forgotten to get the arsenic for the pie. That was the one thing that was going to make her day both memorable and happy.

1396. The good old days

I remember years ago when I was young. My mother would give me sometimes less than a dollar and send me to the shop to get groceries.

It was amazing what I would bring home. There was tinned fruit, and honey, and bread. There was cereal and rice and stuff like that. Then there were always the non-edible items like batteries and light bulbs. Once I even managed to get a whole leg of frozen lamb, and that was over and above the regular chicken and beef steaks and pork chops.

Those were the good old days. How times have changed. These days there are too many cameras about.

1392. The ship sets sail!

The ship sets sail! Of course, it didn’t have sails; it was a modern ship, but the expression from sailing days remained.

Curtis and Connie waved farewell to their daughter, Isabella. She had a terrible fear of flying and had won a huge scholarship to study overseas at a prestigious university. You’ve no idea how difficult it is these days to book a cabin on a ship that’s not simply a cruise liner.

And so they hugged and Isabella walked up the gangway, waving goodbye and blowing kisses. It was sad, but so exciting! The start of a profoundly wonderful adventure!

She would write, but she never came back. They never saw her again.

1380. Traffic premonition

Miranda had a premonition that she was going to die in a road accident – and that very day. The only thing for it was not to go out in her car, but she had arranged to pick up the cat deworming pills from the vet’s that afternoon, and they were long overdue.

“Don’t be silly,” thought Miranda. “I can’t let these silly feelings dictate my life, otherwise nothing would ever get done. I shall go into town and pick up the cat’s pills, but be careful nonetheless.”

On the way back home from town, Miranda spotted a large concrete mixer truck approaching on the other side of the road. Miranda almost froze. This was it. It was part of her premonition. The concrete mixer truck would be the instrument of her death. She tried to slow down but instead she froze.

The concrete mixer truck came nearer. And nearer. It passed! Miranda was free! Saved! The premonition was a silly notion after all. “Thank goodness!” thought Miranda.

In her relief she missed the corner, ploughed into a bank, and was killed.