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Somewhere In A Publishing House...

29/8/2014

The publisher sighed. The author wanted to hear the fate of his recently-submitted manuscript personally.

"Well?" the author asked hopefully.

"Sadly, I'm afraid it's not for me," said the publisher. "450,000 words is simply too long for modern tastes – everyone wants flash fiction nowadays. Or diet books. Yours needs editing – four chapters simply repeat the same story, and it ends with a mass of letters."

The old man looked devastated.

Trying to be helpful, the publisher produced a business card. "Look, why not try these people?"

The author nodded his thanks. The card said:

"ISAIAH GABRIEL BAPTIST JOHN, literary agents."

Beware Of Kangaroos

29/8/2014

The Cut-Throat Gang had come up with another money-making scheme: kangaroos.

The idea had been simple. Import kangaroos from Australia, train them to become pickpockets, then let them loose in major cities all over Europe. Tourists would be relieved of their wallets and handbags, which the kangaroos would slip into their pouches. These would be emptied daily by Gang members; and any apprehended kangaroo could hardly be charged.

The plan went wrong immediately in Rome. Incensed that a rival mob was competing in the city, the local Mafia machine-gunned all the kangaroos, forever known afterwards as the Waltzing Matilda Massacre.

The Williams Family And The Twin-Knecked Fourteen-Stringed Banjo

24/8/2014

Kentucky's Williams family had a unique claim to fame: only they could play the extraordinary twin-necked fourteen-string banjo. Essentially, it was two five-stringers, with two extra drone strings in cavities in each neck's back – one neck tuned in fourths F-B-E-A-D-G-C, the other in fifths, G-D-A-E-B-F-C.

Famous tunes included "Kentucky 14-String Hoe-Down" and "Kentucky Williams Blues", playable only by family members with unusually long fingers. Some experts think they had Marfans Syndrome, but it might have been in-breeding: they always married cousins.

In the 1960s the Williams family started to marry out; nowadays this extraordinary music is limited to old recordings.

The Great Independence Debate

22/8/2014

One week before the Plutonian Independence Referendum, the entire adult population of Pluto gathered to hear a debate between the leaders of the respective campaigns.

First, Klog passionately set out the case for breaking away from the Solar System. "They don't care about us," he said. "They deplanetised us!"

Mogarwi replied, arguing that Pluto's future lay with Neptune, Uranus and other planets. "Sometimes we're actually closer to the Sun than Neptune," she noted.

After a question-and-answer session and a brief discussion, they all repaired for tea and biscuits to the local hall. Commentators generally agreed that the debate was drawn.

Lost In Translation

20/8/2014

This is a 300-word piece of Flash Fiction, for a WordPress competition mentioned on the LinkedIn Friday Flash Fiction thread. Contestants were provided with the first part of the story (in yellow) then invited to complete it as they wished,

She met him at an international student exchange. He was German—not her first choice. But he was dark and subdued, unlike the Brazilians who talked too much and ran their eyes over every woman in the room.

“Hello. I’m Sharon,” she said.

He stood up. “My name is Hans.”

They drank plastic cups of fruit punch and communicated in simple English phrases until it was time to go, and then Hans grew agitated.

“Will you … can I … “ he began, fighting the language.

“All right,” Sharon said.

She wanted to see a movie but his English wasn’t good enough. They went for ice cream instead.

“In Germany,” he said, “We have an ice cream shop that sells every flavor in the world … even chicken soup ice cream.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, “although I do not eat it because I am vegetarian.”

Sharon frowned. “I’m not vegetarian, but the chicken would need to be free range.”

“You want the chicken for free?” Hans asked. “Are you mean?”

This was not going as well as Sharon had hoped.

“I’m Scottish,” she said in an attempt at humour. “We count every penny.”

“I do not like stereotypes,” said Hans. “Scottish people cannot all be mean. It is like when people say Germans want to conquer the world. Perhaps you are mean but not all Scottish people will be mean.”

“I’m not mean,” Sharon said, indignantly.

“You said you were.”

“I was joking,” she said, despairingly. “Can’t you understand that?”

“There you go,” said Hans. “Stereotyping we Germans. You Scottish people are not good.”

Sharon sighed; she knew he was not for her. But a good ice-cream wasn’t to be wasted, so she rammed the chocolate-and-mint cone down Hans’ shirt front before turning and walking away from him for ever.

Jekyll and Hyde

16/8/2014

By day Beth was a respectable pastor; by night she wrote racey erotic fiction under the assumed name "Queen Of the Night". As the latter, she achieved considerable notoriety for her "Angelique's Adventures", tales of a city girl in small-town Ontario. On occasion, Beth even preached the odd sermon denouncing the work of her salacious alter ego. No-one knew that author and pastor were one and the same.

Then one Sunday morning, Beth – who'd been burning more midnight oil on Angelique than usual – grabbed her notes on the Sermon On The Mount, and, in haste, grabbed the wrong thing...

Two Master Criminals

15/8/2014

Two boys from the local school broke into the nearby Semi-Chem drug store looking for diazepam, amphetamine and methadone. The drugs weren't for themselves, naturally; they planned to sell them and spend their 'earnings' on dope and ecstasy.

They didn't seem to know that Semi-Chems don't have pharmacies, so they stuffed their pockets full of shampoo, asprin and children's nappies. Nor did they pay much attention to the alarm that sounded throughout their stay. They weren't very bright kids.

They were later apprehended by the police making their way across a golf course with their swag in a supermarket trolley.

Crete, 1944

13/8/2014

It was a slightly run-down joint, pretending to be a cafe on the outside when everyone knew it was something else. The soldier had been recommended to pay a visit and ask for something local. An old woman was clearing dishes as he went in.

"I'd like the best Greek tart you can manage, please," he said.

She nodded, went into the kitchen, and carefully sprinkled some feta, tomatoes and black olives on top of the thinnest of pastry bases. Fifteen minutes later, it was ready.

As she set it before him, he said, "I wonder if you misunderstood me?"

Does Flash Gordon Live Here?

8/8/2014

The doorbell rang: the postman, wearing a full set of chain mail armour.

"Can you help me, sir?" he asked. Seeing my bemused look, he explained, "It's the new Royal Mail uniform." Noticing his nameplate, Arthur King, I nodded.

"How can I help?"

"I've got letters for Daniel Dare, Flash Gordon, Batman and Spiderman. Do they live here?"

I chuckled. "I think it's a joke. No-one with those names lives here."

Closing the door, I caught myself in the hall mirror. Realising that my blue and red cape was ruffled, I patted down the giant yellow 'S' on my front.

An Admittedly Very Silly Story

4/8/2014

In the late fifteenth century, the Catholic Church, attempting to reduce its dependence on fossil fuels, tried renewable energy for executions instead of bonfires. In Spain, Torquemada turned to a traditional punishment for recalcitrant Christians – lions.

Then in 1490, the heretic saints Carlos, Daniel, and Alice were executed by lions; however, their cleverly-concealed copies of "Pride And Prejudice" caused two lions to choke. After that, Torquemada turned to "death by dragon's breath", but the dragons all too frequently torched the inquisitors by mistake as well.

So Torquemada went back to bonfires, and now we have global warming as a result.

4th August, 1914

4/8/2014

To mark the centenary of the outbreak of World War One, a story which uses some of the Friday Flash Fiction characters.

All the boys in the village were excited by the news. "It'll be an adventure," they said. "We'll all join up together."

"Don't go," said Alice, but she was torn. She worried a little, but she was so proud of them, and she didn't need to be told that two of the most handsome ones, Danny and Carlos, had a shine for her. They were already competing for her attention, trying to show who was the bravest.

"Don't be afraid for us," the boys said. "Anyway, we'll be back in no time."

That wasn't how it worked out, of course.

Chez Caesar

3/8/2014

The other night four of us hit The Colosseum, the classiest joint in town. The waiter showed us to our table.

"What'ya got?" I asked. "Any of that stuff you had on the menu last time?"

"Christian?" the waiter replied. "Sure, sir, fresh in from Spain."

"Spain?" Leo said. "Different – you certain it's good?"

"The best, sir. 'Animal even has a name – 'Maximus'. Tonight, we're serving it garlic-infused with a side salad."

"Yeah? OK, waiter – Maximus for four! Make it snappy."

The Colosseum didn't let us down. Twenty minutes later, we four shared a great meal.

Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch.

Yum.

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