We Swiped Right on Monstr

I’m extremely late in posting this story, but better late than never. I actually wrote it last week, but I was in Seattle for a conference and didn’t get a chance to post it.

FF187 J Hardy Carroll

copyright J Hardy Carroll

“You’re a werewolf?” she asks.

“A wereman, actually.”

“So every month you turn into a . . . man?”

“A different kind of man. An accountant actually.” I blush. “Just a frenzy of budgets and data sheets.”

She looks pensive. “That’s cool. You could do contract work, do a month’s work in three days and rent an office on a per-day basis to save money.”

“Okay.” This is getting serious for a first date. “What about you? Your profile said you’re a succubus, right?”

Now she blushes. “Not exactly. I just exploit men’s useful abilities.”

“Oh. So you’re . . .”

She nods. “I’m a practibus.”


A Gift for Dad

It’s my dad’s birthday today and I don’t have a present for him. It doesn’t help that I’m currently three time zones away, although even that is better than the fourteen or so when I was in Korea.

It’s not totally my fault though. He’s very hard to buy things for. For one thing, he’s just so darned contented. He doesn’t need anything except his family and peace on earth and he’s already got one of those, and the other one is a little out of my price range.

I remember the first thing I ever bought him. I think it was for his birthday, but it might have been for Father’s Day. I don’t know how old I was, but probably around five. When you’re five, you don’t pick out a present and you definitely don’t buy it. It’s more a situation of your mom saying, “Here, this will be your present to Dad.” But when you’re a kid, from that moment on, it’s YOUR present to give, just as much as if you’d carved it out of the earth yourself.

I gave him a staple remover because Mom said he didn’t have one. It probably cost a dollar, especially considering this was in the 80s sometime. I remember him opening it, and I will always remember what he said, even though it was over 30 years ago. He said, “Do you know, for years I have been taking staples out with my thumbnail?” My little heart swelled with pride at that because I was helping Dad. I had given him something he needed.

staple remover

Pictured: a five-year-old’s idea of a good present

I’m not going to say that was the last good present I ever got him. I made him a glass chessboard once when I was a teenager that I think was pretty spiffy and once I made him a leather sheath for his scout knife. It’s always a bit of a challenge though to find that perfect gift, what the French probably don’t call le cadeau juste.

Don’t think I’m blaming him, however. The fact is, I’ve taken after him quite a bit in this regard. I’m pretty darned contented myself, as exasperated female members of my family might readily attest. But growing up, here’s what the list was, in terms of possible gifts:

  • Ties. At least I think so. I don’t actually remember getting Dad a tie, but I think it was always on the table as an option. At least he wore ties, which is more than I can say about myself, if I can at all avoid it.
  • Mugs. This was a great one because a person can always use mugs, especially if you drink coffee like my dad. Of course, after a while, there’s only so many cups of coffee you can drink simultaneously, and only so many people you can invite over for coffee, so this gift is not a sure thing. (Note: if you find you have too many mugs in your house, pick the ten you use least and put them in the back of a pickup truck and drive around on dirt roads for an hour. Throw away any that are chipped and your family will then have something to give you as a present again.)
  • T-shirts. We tried this, we really did. All through our teenage years we tried to make Dad cool. And he was cool, right up to the point when he invariably gave the T-shirts to one of my sisters, since he said the shirts looked better on them anyway.
  • Books. Not a bad idea, but if he’s anything like me, he could build a house with the books on his To-Read list. One with a breakfast nook that’s all non-fiction.
  • Tools. All guys need tools. This simple adage means that there are always gifts to buy someone. The problem is, beyond the basic tools, tools quickly get very complicated and very specialized. I prefer to get him knives and machetes and things like that, since that’s what I like. I like to give knives as presents to people right up to just before the point where a casual observer takes that person to be a serial killer, and Dad’s nowhere near that point yet.

Every now and then, I get some grand ideas for gifts for people that involve way more time and resources that I have. I would probably start with a drawing and end up five hours later with a plan to make a personalized movie featuring interpretative dance that symbolizes the passing of the seasons in Newfoundland. My planning process is often just a sine wave oscillating between flights of fancy and blunt realism.

interpretive dance - not really

This is unrelated, but it was the first result when I did a Google search for “interpretative dance Newfoundland seasons”

A lot of the problem is money too, because I’d love to buy him a canoe and a trip for two to France or Peru, or both, and maybe a self-shoveling driveway.

But, in lieu of all the things that I either can’t get you or you don’t need, I’ll give you this blog post, Dad, if only because I know no one else got you one and you don’t have one already (this does not include Facebook posts, I will note, since my sister writes devastatingly beautiful and poetic tributes to people on Facebook that always leave me feeling choked up and envious).

I love you Dad and I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Someday, perhaps, we will be in the same time zone and maybe even the same zip code and I can say it in person.

happy-birthday-dad-300x300


Pay to Play Pedagogy

I’m back again. Don’t worry, I haven’t died or given up writing. On the contrary, I’ve been hard at work on several novels I’ve been writing since last fall. They’re almost done, and I’m hoping to get back to writing for the blog more regularly.

ff186-sarah-potter

copyright Sarah Potter

Pay to Play Pedagogy

Exams at BDV For-Profit High School were about to begin. Jamie donned his VR goggles. The scene changed to a snowy forest.

A Viking charged him, ax raised, shouting “Imperative!”

“Die!” Jamie screamed and stabbed it.

Another ran from his right. “Future!”

“I will destroy you!” The Viking died like the first.

An arrow whistled from the darkness. As he died, Jamie saw the words Past Perfect written on the shaft. He had had problems with that before.

Please pay $5.00 or get an F. Jamie hit pay. He only had $30 for the exam. He needed to do better.


The Forbidden Door

ff185-ceayr

copyright CEary

The Forbidden Door

I made my way through the inky blackness, walking ninja-like towards the door. A thick chain barred my way. Just like the queen to take such extreme measures to protect her riches. But I knew that she kept the key under her pillow, and I had stolen it.

I unlocked the chain and lowered it silently to the floor. As I drew open the door, a hallowed light burst from the chamber within, revealing the treasure I so desperately sought.

The light snapped on. “Harold, are you getting into the Thanksgiving pies?”

I wiped meringue off my lips. “No, dear.”

 


Amateur Night at the Cantina

Well, I’m not dead, in case any of you were wondering. It wouldn’t be totally implausible, since I dropped off the face of the blogging world for about 3.5 months. Partially, I needed a break, and I have been hard at work on a few large writing projects. Also, I felt bad about posting Friday Fictioneers stories when I didn’t have time to read anyone else’s.

I don’t know if I can come back at full strength, but I will try to post more regularly, if anyone is still around to read my stories.

ff183-bjorn-rudberg

copyright Bjorn Rudberg

Amateur Night at the Cantina

I shuffled onto the cantina’s stage, clutching my plasma cello with sweaty hands. Hundreds of eyes stared out at me from the gloomy bar, whole constellations of varying colors, shapes and sizes.

I started with some Beethoven, but I quickly felt an undertone of discontent grow in the air. I switched to some Trebellium orchestral music. It was so soaring and grand, it could make your heart weep, but the anger only grew.

“Play the song!” someone finally shouted.

That song. I hated it, but I had no choice if I wanted to escape alive.

Sigh.

I began to play.

(The idea for this story came from a scene from Family Guy’s Blue Harvest, where they joke that in the Mos Eisley cantina, they only play one song.)


Jabberwocky by UIU

It is summer at the moment, and if you work at a university, you know that summer is a fairly quiet time. So, I decided to have some fun at work. My favorite poem has for years been Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll. What I did was divide the poem up into small sections and I went around campus with a video camera and recorded staff, faculty and students saying the parts, then put them all together.

 


The Old Man and the Seafood

FF46 Janet Webb

copyright Janet Webb

The Old Man and the Seafood

Shoppers meandered around the store in hip waders, shopping carts half submerged.

“How did you come up with this idea?” the reporter asked.

Jeff grinned. “I thought it was about time someone applied the self-pick produce model to seafood. With seafood, freshness is everything. Here, everything is alive up until you buy it. No expiration dates needed.”

An old man shuffled up in oversized boots. “Excuse me, I just need a can of tuna.”

“No cans here, I’m afraid,” Jeff said, throwing the reporter another grin. “Everything’s fresh.” He handed the man a spear gun. “Bluefins are in aisle 30.”


Eve In Korea

My Adventures As An ESL Teacher In South Korea

Luna's Writing Journal

A Place for my Fiction

Bikurgurl

I'm just a gurl in the world

Here's To Being Human

Living life as a human

The Moving Quill

Writing & Blogging by Shailaja V

jenacidebybibliophile

Book Reviewer and Blogger

yuxianadventure

kitten loves the world

Strolling South America

10 countries, 675 days, 38,540km

It's All in Finding the Right Words

The Eternal Search to Find One's Self: Flash Fiction and Beyond

Reflections Of Life's Journey

Lessons, Joys, Blessings, Friendships, Heartaches, Hardships , Special Moments

A Writer's Path

Sharing writing tips, information, and advice.

Chris Green

Tales of Mystery and Imagination

Finding Myself Through Writing

Writing Habits of Elle Knowles - Author

Commendable Soap

"...the manufacture of stories... a business safe and commendable as making soap..." Willa Cather, 1920

BEAUTIFUL WORDS

Inspiring mental health through creative arts and friendly interactions. (Award free blog)

Total Time Waste

A Humor Blog!

Claire Fuller

Writing and art

TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!

Unmapped Country within Us

Emily Livingstone, Author

The Found Girl's Bookblog

A lost girl found by good books

Silkpurseproductions's Blog

Learning how to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.

BJ Writes

My online repository for works in progress

wordsandotherthings.wordpress.com/

she is confidence in shadows.

Musings on Life & Experience

Poetry, Fiction, & Non-Fiction Writings

Outside The Lines

Fun readings about Color, Art and Segmation!

obBLOGato

a Photo Blog, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to dear dirty New York

Björn Rudbergs writings

Poetry and fiction by a physicist from the dark side

SightsnBytes

A.K.A. Ted White

WordDreams...

Jacqui Murray's

Life in Kawagoe

Japanese daily sight

The Day After

Musings of a Wannabe Photographer

Mondays Finish the Story

This is a flash fiction site where you finish the story!

Sketches By Boze

An ongoing exploration of faith, culture, myth, life, art. An advocate for all who are trapped in nightmares.

Tiffys World

A diary type blog following the life of a Forensic Science Student

San Diego Professional Writer's Group

A San Diego based critique group for professional and aspiring writers

Five Years to Mediocrity

chasing kitties, crashing scooters, and learning spanish, one anxiety attack at a time

athingirldotcom

never judge a girl by her weight

The Discerning Christian

Philosophy, Christianity, Social Justice

€merald Wake ©

❤ The art marked by the Pain ❤

Fiction et al

Navigating the modern business of book publishing

Yarnspinnerr

Just Fiction and other things that seem fictitious.

The Chicago Files

A CANADIAN EXPAT'S EXPERIENCES AND OBSERVATIONS LIVING IN THE WINDY CITY!

marina kanavaki

Art Towards a Happy Day [painting - illustration - design]

%d bloggers like this: