Friday Fictioneers 12 – 01 – 2021

Friday Fictioneers challenges us to write micro-fiction (<101 words) prompted by a photograph supplied by one of our colleagues. It’s all teed up by our friend, extraordinary artist, and fabulous leader, Rochelle. Click the prompt photo to see her blog page with all the skinny. It’s fun.

Today’s picture has a two-level outhouse indicating politicians up top and voters below. I recall seeing this arrangement in a military cartoon with officers on top and enlisted below.

In the Viet Nam War, officers and radiomen were preferred targets of the North Vietnam Army and the Viet Cong, which is why soldiers did not salute officers in the field.

Click on the PHOTO PROMPT by © Lisa Fox for Rochelle’s blog to get all the FF info.

Genre: Military Fiction (War Story)
Word Count: 100
Title: FNG* Down

The new Lieutenant ordered me to be his radio man. Our platoon leader was callow, yet confident and eager. A stickler for rules, he risked soldiers’ lives needlessly. A poor listener with a gung-ho, know-it-all attitude.

He chewed me out in front of my squad and gave me extra guard duty. Bad enough I had to hump the motherfucker’s goddamn radio.

In the jungle one day the lieutenant ordered me to step back, I yelled, “Yes, Sir,” stepped back and saluted him. The crack sound of the AK-47 made me dive for cover.

Our next lieutenant was a big improvement.


Be aware of enemy presence and men with guns.
Mind the gaps, make more friends than enemies, and keep your powder dry.
Just because you are paranoid doesn’t mean you’re not being watched.

Click on the soldier to link to the squares, where other stories are being told.

*FNG is military initialism and jargon for fucking new guy.

Friday Fictioneers 11-26-2021

Today we contrive stories from a cityscape photo with a narrow street from Roger Bultot. Rochelle has set it all up on her blog and we post as directed by her wonderfulness.

For Friday Fictioneers we write micro-stories of 100 words or fewer given ideas germinated by a new photo on Wednesday of each week, provided by various participants. You can read the rules over on Rochelle’s blog and join in the fun. Here is the photo and my story for this week.

Click on the PHOTO PROMPT by © Roger Bultot for Rochelle’s blog to get all the FF info.

Genre: Ethnic Fiction
Word Count: 100
Title: Crucible Mossad

***

They stopped jogging.

Chava whispered, “It’s the white truck. Remove the gas cap. You won’t see the nano drone. Wait two seconds, replace the cap, and run. I’ll meet you at Freeda’s.”

Tzitta moaned, “You distract the guards. I’ll be gone before they notice. Sexeh outfit, Sista.”

Five minutes later they ducked into Freeda’s Deli. An old man yelled, “Check the ice!”

The crowd went silent as they sat at the bar.

Freeda looked, “Nu?”

Chava nodded.

Then an explosion rocked the building.

Tzitta said, “Oy gevalt!”

Everyone stood, shouting, “Mazel tov.”

Freeda pushed sandwiches toward them, “Ess gezunt, ladies.”

***


Look both ways but take a side.
Mind the gaps, cameras, and guards.
Run like the wind.

Click on Ziva David, former Mossad on NCIS portrayed by Cote de Pablo, to read all the wonderful micro stories written by participants.

Gloss: Nu is a Yiddish expression to ask a simple question instead of using words such as “well” or “so.” Oy gevalt! means oh, violence! It is used to express shock or amazement. Ess gezunt is deli slang for eat in good health. Everybody knows mazel tov, right?

Friday Fictioneers 11-05-2021

Many thanks to the wonderful Rochelle for herding us cats on Friday Fictioneers. We write micro-stories inspired by a new photo each week, provided by very creative and imaginative compatriots. Here is the photo and my story for this week.

Click on this week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast to link to Rochelle’s Blog.

 


Genre: Fiction
Word count: 100
Title: Krumpas Coop


Excruciating pain shot from my foot to my brain. I yelled, “Those damn Legos are diabolical. That hurt!”

Mary yelled back, “Are Steven and Julie there?”

I said, “I think the Krampas got them. The window is open and no sign of them.”

Mary walked in, “Well Krampas knows how to write.” She handed me the note.

I read aloud, “The ransom is a bag of M&M’s, a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream, and two new ponies.”

As I handed the note back, we heard giggling coming from the attic.

I asked, “Do we negotiate with terrorists or Krampas?”


Look both ways and mind the gaps.
Especially when Legos are involved.

Click on Krumpas to read other stories.