Tag Archives: Flash fiction

Another invitation

A big THANK YOU to all who were able to contribute over the last two weeks or so an opening sentence for a story.

Yvonne of Hello World suggested it could be challenging to ask for suggestions for a story’s final sentence.

Feel free to make suggestions for a final sentence. Then I would put a link back to your blog (if you have one) when the story is posted. So please, if you wish, leave a final sentence in the comments below and I’ll try to write the story leading up to your final sentence. Don’t suggest a plot; just a final sentence.

Examples might be: As far as Miriam was concerned Anselm could suck eggs.
The fall of night meant nothing to Anita.
There was no way that Bertie could hide the hole in his trousers.

These stories, as you know, are short – so nothing will be saga-length. For starters, please make only one suggestion each!

Thanks
Bruce

1510: Savoury Muffins

Review 1: This muffin recipe is not my favourite. I made the muffins because the recipe was given five stars out of five. I left the sugar out because quite frankly there is no place for sugar in a savoury recipe. I usually detest garlic but I used it here because of the five stars. It destroyed any redeeming features the recipe might have had. I can still taste it. Yuk! I also omitted the mozzarella cheese. It’s not the type of thing the average household keeps in their fridge so naturally I couldn’t use it, but I replaced it with blue vein that was about to go off, so it was good to find a use for it. An elderly aunt had left the revolting stuff here when she visited last Christmas. All in all, a big disappointment.

Review 2: What a delightful recipe! I left out the flour because my son has an allergy. I also omitted the rosemary and the baking powder, but I added a well-beaten egg white to a packet of marsh mellows and baked it like a meringue. This muffin recipe is so light and airy.

Review 3: Your recipe called for two teaspoons of baking powder. I was out of baking powder at the time so I used baking soda instead and increased the amount to four tablespoons. Does the person who runs this recipe blog ever try the recipes before they are posted? This one would have failed the test. I might as well have had a fizzy drink. It’s pathetic. And to think the recipe has five stars.

Review 4: I began with your recipe, but this recipe website runs so many popup ads. I didn’t realize that another recipe altogether had “popped up” and I used that to make the things. Hubby loved them, although he did wonder why there were so many chicken bones in the muffins.

Review 5: Honestly, we should have been warned. My son came home from school and asked who had been vomiting. It was that Parmesan cheese in the muffins cooking in the oven. It flooded the house with its stench. The whole family refused to even take a nibble. I don’t blame them. The chickens loved them, although I noticed that one or two of them seem to have gone off the lay.

Review 6: Why are people so negative in their comments? When I was brought up my parents demanded respect and courtesy. These days anything goes. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see swearing used in some of the recipes these days. I had an uncle who swore like a trooper but he’s dead now. His wife, my aunt, has since remarried and lives in Anchorage. They have terrible winters in Alaska. I wouldn’t live there if you paid me, and nor would my daughter who is finishing off her degree at university.

1508: Beach nudity

Look at that female strutting on the beach with no clothes on – down to the water’s edge and back – like she owns the world. This is not a nudist beach. I don’t know what the world is coming to.

There she is now sitting down in the sand with not a care and eating a sandwich. The people with her are eating sandwiches too like they don’t give a hoot. It’s as if they haven’t noticed. It’s disgusting. Parading around on the beach naked is one thing; not for those she’s with to notice or object is another thing altogether. Their ignorance and callousness is hard to believe. How can the modern generation condone such a thing?

There she goes now. Lunch is clearly finished. She’s tossing a beach ball. Everyone is laughing. Oh for goodness sake. This is preposterous. Naked and flouncing around with a beach ball. Shame! Shame! Outrageous!

Put some clothes on! Either cover up or go to some nudist beach where immoral behaviour is tolerated. No wonder modern-day toddlers like this little girl grow up with no morals.

1507: Granny Suzanne

Over the years Granny Suzanne had skein after half-used skein of left-over wool. In her younger days she had been a prolific knitter. These days, with rheumatism and fading eyesight, her knitting output wasn’t quite so productive.

Winter was setting in. She knew that her three grandchildren living with their mother “just down the road” would be feeling the cold. She couldn’t afford to pay for their heating, but she could knit, albeit with effort. She would knit warm clothes for her grandchildren and their mother.

Scarves, gloves, socks, and woollen hats were the order of the day! A bit of red, a flash of blue, a stitch or two of green… The job was done, and most of her leftover wool was used.

The grandchildren didn’t tell granny but they hated the items. “It looks like we’re street urchins,” they said to their mother. They threw the woollen items away and went to thank their grandmother. But when they visited their grandmother she was sitting in her armchair, dead.

She had died of the cold.

1506: Bernard’s disorganized wife

Bernard’s wife does nothing other than complain. She’s a stay-at-home mother, which is a luxury most of us can ill afford. She complains that there are not enough hours in a day. Not enough hours in the day for what? Lounging around watching the soaps while the kids are at school?

Being a well-paid consultant I asked her to write down what she does in a day, so improvements can be made and then she’ll have no reason to complain. Here is a typical Wednesday – or so she claims:

Get the kids ready for school – 1 hour
Tidy the house – 2 hours
Prepare meals- 1 hour
Get the groceries – 2 hours
Do necessary odd jobs, e.g. take the car to get fixed etc. – 2 hours
Mow the lawn and weed the garden – 1 hour
Do the laundry – 1 hour sometimes 2
Pick up the kids from school – 1 hour, sometimes less, sometimes more
Take the dog for a walk and feed the dog and cat – 30 minutes

The list for Wednesday went on and on, but I won’t bore you with more details.

Look, I said to her, just get yourself organized and stop the complaining. Do some of these jobs on another day of the week.

1505: Wedding anniversary

When Callista’s husband forgot their anniversary for a third year in a row, enough was enough. Callista planned a murder.

She read every book and article on “How to” that she could find. She even read Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle. This was to be a murder that was fool proof. What is more, she would do it on their anniversary – the fourth he would have forgotten.

In the end Callista thought shooting with a gun was the safest bet. She thoroughly researched the angle of entry a suicide victim’s bullet would enter the head. It was a question of getting into the right position and pulling the trigger before the victim realized what was going on.

The anniversary day dawned. The gun was loaded. Callista waited.

Before long, Peggy-Sue wandered up the garden path. Peggie-Sue came once a week to clean the house. As she entered the door, Callista pulled the trigger.

“You!” shouted Callista. “Your conniving sensuality is the cause of my husband’s infidelity.”

The coroner ruled “Suicide”. And although Callista and her husband didn’t really live happily ever after, Callista was well-pleased.

1504: Prenuptial agreement

It was the ravishing, rich film star who insisted on a prenuptial agreement. I’m not having an ordinary plumber, such as the person I’m engaged to, running off with most of my money just because he married into wealth, said the ravishing, rich film star. As far as I’m concerned he can keep the car and boat, and get quarter of the cash. The rest will be mine.

The plumber was not at all happy with the prospect of a prenuptial agreement. It implies, he said, that you don’t think the marriage will last. I’d prefer to get nothing at all in the unlikely event of a divorce, rather than have a prenuptial agreement.

But the ravishing, rich film star had her way. Ten months later, when the marriage collapsed in a heap of rubble, the plumber (whose name was Jack) got the car, the boat, and quarter of the cash.

Fair is fair, said the ravishing, rich film star. What she didn’t know was that before the marriage the plumber had piles and piles of filthy lucre. He was ten times richer than the ravishing, rich film star. The difference was, he’d never thought to tell the ravishing, rich film star.

It was the plumber’s fourth marriage.