Tag Archives: silly

Terry, Jeff, Colin and Bob

Terry, Jeff, Colin and Bob went to sea in a rancid boat.
They took some jerky and plenty of Bud,
all wrapped in a t-shirt (covered in mud.)

Colin looked over to Bob on his left,
as they nodded then bellowed an ode to Terry ‘n’ Jeff.

“O’ Terry and Jeff, Teff and Jerry, what wonderful friends you are,
you are, you are, you are.”

Then Terry looked at Jeff and Jeff looked at Terry,
before both of them sicked-up on Bob’s shoes.
Yes both of them sicked-up on Bob’s shoes, his shoes.
Yes both of them sicked-up on Bob’s shoes.


Another week another slice of Friday Flash Fiction over at Rochelle’s blog. This week I bring you this piece of randomness based purely on the fact that the Owl and the Pussycat jumped straight into my brain-box when I saw the photo.

I can but apologise to what I have done to that wonderful nonsense poem.

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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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When Harry Went Silly

When Harry said he was going to build a fence to keep the fog out, people thought he was mad.

In the winter of 1993 they were proved right.
Harry was certified insane. His friends left. His family forgot him.

No fog has been seen since.

Today, in a field in Leicester, a piece of land (no bigger than our back gardens together) is fenced off into a slightly wonky rectangle. Inside this quirky quadrant stands a Silver Birch, 7 sheep (sometimes 6 – Gary often goes walkabout) and a small patch of fog roaming – searching for an exit.

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If you enjoyed this, why not read 100 other stories from writers around the world all contributing toFriday Fictioneers. If you can’t get enough of them, why not check out another 52 one hundred word stories in my collection, People Watching.

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The penguin looked at me

A fish past three

A cabbage in a tree.

The milkman walked right by

and the penguin looked at me.

 

A quarter past door

Two rainclouds on the floor.

The postman’s on a camel

and the carrot’s looking sore.

 

A Ten to squirrel

Nothing rhymes with squirrel.

A bulb filmed an orange

on the ninth in the Wirral.

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Cheese

It’s good to see that the surreal is alive and well

in the child that sits in the back seat of my car.

When told from the front to the back that in fact

this child of mine smelled of cheese,

he slapped his thigh and laughed with a sigh

and declared that in fact it was broccoli.

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