Another Friday, another Friday Fictioneers (sorry kids, but I can only submit these when the pictures tell me the story, as this week’s did.) As always, I hope you enjoy what today’s muse whispered into my ear…
Copyright -Anelephantcant
The chain – well, you could hardly call it that, now could you? – Would’ve never been left draped around his neck in days of old. No, back then he was prized, needed, secured.
He remembered the lad who’d rode him, screaming together down blown-out streets to get messages to the front.
God, he loved that boy. So handsome, so gentle, so fast!
The lad had a good eye, failing him only on that day where “Jerry” had hid in the bell tower.
Lying beside his dying love, he wept while his seat slowly absorbed the blood.
A lifetime ago of course, it was now a mere cherished memory as he sat idly – unloved, unneeded, and most decidedly unchained.
So, what sort of unadulterated douche does it take to not play Friday Fictioneers in “like, forever,” only to return, and then not plunk down the maximum 100 word allotment, but rather (2) 100 word installments instead?
We’ll just have to wait and see.
Here is this week’s 2-parter (if you’re really militant about the word count, just shut up and read the first part only, already!)
I hope you enjoy, I hope you play along, and I hope you get back to me with how you feel I can improve!
And to those of you who read along regularly, #1 – thanks!, and #2 – I apologize for having this week, two “dialogue-only” posts, back-to back!
Copyright -John Nixon
•
Now, where did I place it?
Sir, it’s…
Just a moment Geoffrey, I’m attempting to locate my rapt-scallion key!
“Rapt-scallion,” sir?
Oh my, Geoffrey, you’re so pedestrian, really. Dear boy, I couldn’t very well say God-damned-able, now could I? Certainly not in front of a mere child!
Sir, I’m not a chi…
Shush now lad, help me search!
But sir, it’s directly behind you.
Behind?
Yes sir, protruding from your back, actually.
By Jove! Right you are m’boy, right you ARE! Now, why do you suppose…
Sir. Please not again… We’re toys sir.
The devil you say!
The devil, I don’t.
••
We are toys. Just like we were yesterday sir.
My dear boy, I do believe your lid is positively flipped.
Sir, you have a KEY sticking OUT of your BACK!
Well… isn’t that just a very British thing to do?
No sir. It’s a very wind-up toy thing to do.
Rapt-scallion!
Sir…?
Oh, fine. GodDAMNed!
I’m terribly sorry sir.
No need m’boy, no need! So, I suppose I’ll wind down then?
Yes sir.
And I’ll have forgotten I was a toy next go-round as well?
I pray not, sir. This conversation IS becoming a tad bit monotonous.
•••
Bloggers note:
Today’s tune is more than just a musical accessory to a toy trapped within it’s own short-term memory. Today’s tune, TMI be damned, could have almost have been my theme song, at quite a number of points throughout my life. In short, today’s tune is important…
Ain’t no flippin’ way you’re Jesus. That’s bullcrap!
Then why’d you answer? Weren’t you just now asking for some sort of sign; that I’d “call you?”
Well, yeah… but a phone?
Look, the device is obviously defunct. Inoperable. You’re pretty dense Dave, and I had to get through. Plus, I thought you might also enjoy the spectacle of it all.
I suppose…
I have been talking to you your whole life. You get that, right? You just never listened.
Yeah?
Yeah.
…Yeah.
So, do I need to perform these asinine tricks anymore?
No, we’re good.
Good. Now hang up and go your wash your hands. That thing is filthy.
as long as i'm singing 