Tag Archives: comedy

Get a man in

I’d been on at him for years about that wiring.

He said I was moaning, that he’d had enough of it at work all day and that when he came home all I did was nag. I wasn’t nagging. I didn’t think so anyway. I just wanted it fixed. It was an accident waiting to happen. He knows that now of course.

I got a man in, in the end. All done within 20 minutes. He said that if I’d left it much longer there was a chance someone would electrocute themselves.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him.


Great photo this week from Ted Strutz, I do hope this little tale does it justice. Thanks to Rochelle, as always, for hosting and for all your feedback and love. I’m looking forward to reading what you have in store.

on-on-off

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Maria and the crack

Maria twitched. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at the crack but it must have been a while. The coffee in her cup, previously too hot, was now perfectly drinkable.

She blinked rapidly and took a sip, her eyes fixated. It wasn’t pretty. It certainly wasn’t that interesting but here Maria stood. She could not look away. She was just, mesmerised.

A thud. A smack. The sound of gushing water.

The crack moved.

“Ah, sod it. Sorry to ask, Love,” it said, “but could you pass me my tool-bag. It’s just there, by your foot. Cheers Darling.”

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Posted as part of CarrotRanch’s Flash Fiction Challenge.

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I am the walrus (part the 2nd)

…and it wasn’t just one inanimate object we had to write about, oh no. We were under pressure baby! in 15 minutes we had to come up with 4. Time is fleeting, so by the time I’d cranked my brain into gear after around 6 minutes of dusting off I managed 2 and a half pieces. Here’s the second one. It made me smile and  the group chortle, squirm and go “ooooh rude words!”

——

My life isn’t exactly what you’d call glamorous. Hell it’s not even good. Not like that bathroom cabinet, getting cleaned every other day and handled like it’s made of glass.

No, my life is literally full of shit. They come, they sit, they shit. On the good days, I’m lucky enough to get a bit of a scrub, on the really good days the fresh fragrant smell of pine. The bad days are something else altogether.

They don’t even flush. Dirty assholes.

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