Riding down highway 101 the police officer jumped off his chopper and pulled out his gun. “That’s the Monsanto sheep you’ve stolen, my friend” said the cop, “I just got the bulletin!” As he called up for back-up he took the rope from the guy’s lax hand.
“I didn’t steal it and now that’s a fact!” said the chap dressed from head to foot in merino menswear. “It jump over it’s fence just a little ways back and follow me hence.”
A few day’s later, the judge had to agree after doing a few experiments. The sheep followed anyone dressed in merino wool, out of sheer loneliness, the zoologist for the defense explained. Monsanto’s newest invention … merino sheep made for fleece, recognized the wool of a fellow sheep, or so it thought.
Avery walked down the alleyway, wondering about the future. Everything seemed to have nearly panned out, now that the travel arrangements had been made to go to England…there were just a few last details to be seen to…a haircut and a new wardrobe…
“What’s going on Avery?” asked Adrian.
“I’ve just gotten a letter from my exchange family in London…”
“Well…are you going to string me out a little longer?””It’s about the picture I sent them…you see, I sent my brother’s photo. I didn’t think much about it at the time. I didn’t have a photo on hand and well…”
“Shit! That was a stupid thing to do…and come-off the ‘I didn’t have a photo’ thing, there’s an important difference between the two of you!”
“Well…if I cut my hair like his, I could pass for him.””But why would you want to do that?”
“I just thought it’d be easier traveling and living in a strange country if I were man instead of a woman.”
Written for :
Copyright -Sandra Crook
“Rather short notice wasn’t it?” Suzanne said.
“Well, my husband has to be at his new office on Monday next!” Barb replied.
“However did you find a house?”
“Another castle comes with the job.”
“Have you found a moving company?”
“Well, no, Harry Dunn will move our stuff!”
“The farmer? In his open hay cart?” Suzanne laughed.
“It’s either that or wait a month. John has to be in Scotland next week …”
“I’ve got an idea!”
A week later, from her English castle, Barb invaded Scotland followed by a caravan of English friends and neighbours.
William Wallace shuddered!
Word count 99.
A fellow blogger, Barb Taub has recently moved to Scotland, this is my homage to her!
Written for Friday Fictioneers
On WDBWP last week Lilith put up a great prompt…which I had intended to write on, and then got lost in everyday stuff…so, though very late, here it is:
The TV blared in the background as James and Jessica had their evening meal.
“What would have happened I wonder, if that day when they shot at old JFK they’d actually killed him?”
“You feel like pondering imponderables this evening?”
“Well I mean…would we have gone into Vietnam the way we did? Would Bobby have been President? Would we still have a colony of sorts on the moon? Would the gun lobby have been neutralized? Would we have worked hand in hand with the USSR against global warming? Who knows what the world might be today?”
“And now for today’s weather report!” The TV announcer said: “The Satellites have decided there will be rain over the West Coast….”
n.b. okay…what can I say, I love science fiction. 😉 Have a great Thanksgiving.
Trifecta word Challenge is up!
This week the word is the third definition of pluck:
3: to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly
Spread sheets on hand…account books opened, the two auditors in the Akashic Library looked at each other in amazement.
“Well, isn’t that interesting. This company has also been plucked out of the abyss of economic disaster by the economic crisis!”
“Yep, too bad the owners didn’t pass the moral auditing though, no one will pluck them from the flames of hell!”
word count: 61
Markus walked along the field looking for left over potatoes. Winter would be cold, and money in short supply. Yesterday he’d gone looking for the grapes left on the vines. Tomorrow, he’d go into the woods for chestnuts. Continue reading
I came upon the cottage one cloudy moonlit night. A yellow light shone from the window, yet I knew it to be abandoned. I got off my horse, and walked up the steps to the door.
Suddenly, the light went out.
“Hello! Who’s there!” I shouted though I knew not why.
I pushed at the door and found it oddly open. So, I proceeded to walk cautiously into the room.There, on the old scarred hard-wood table was a bottle. I picked it up and took a whiff.
“My oh my…someone’s made some pretty fine moonshine!” I whispered.
“Aye, and I did! Finest usquebae ta be found!” replied a craggy voice.
The bottle fell from my hand.
“Ach laddie, dae be careful! Me spirits been here nigh 100 years…”
And so I knew how the McCloud’s secret moonshine formula lived on.
(*whiskey as it was known in 1715)
Written for Bastet’s Writing Prompt
The acid rains have stopped. We now have plants again, since the rain is clean. We still have to filter out the heavy metals before drinking the stuff…but now we can collect the rain water for washing.
Many ruins remain to testify to the ancient’s building powers. Poor burnt out things; sometimes you’ll find doors opening onto thin air.
Our wise ones, the poets saved many books and seeds from the fanatic’s fires, we can read and have dictionaries. After the burnings, we, their descendents, returned from hiding; the fanatics were gone.
May all thanks be raised to Gaia.
The genre for Bastet’s Writing Prompts is: Dystopian Political Fantasy…
What are those rows of low dank buildings?
There live the subversive sub-humans who refuse to partake in a true democratic society. If allowed to walk among honest citizens we’d return to the dark ages. They believe themselves artists sometimes poets. Yet, they refuse sacred scriptures and TV unlike true artists!
For 15 hours each day the dissidents receive instructions on honest living: how to buy on credit, reality TV, political purity etc are taught.
The democratically elected government in its wisdom has recycled their leaders. Still, they proliferate like rats and new leaders arise. They call themselves: freedom writers.
Have a look and maybe a try at Bastet’s Power Short Writing Prompt…this week Dystopic Political Fantasy.