This is where they played for the past 55 years.
Now the seats are all empty because the team moved to another city.
It’s no longer a sport, it’s a big business, and as a fan, I feel betrayed.
Written for Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt. Photo credit: Mohammed Al-Emran.
“What’s that smell?” Mike asked his mother as he walked into the kitchen.
“Fantastic, isn’t it?” his mother said. “I’m cooking liver and onions for dinner.”
“Ew,” Mike said, “I’m not a fan of liver and onions. Will you please turn on the goddam exhaust fan over the stove to get that odor outta here?”
“Michael,” his mother said, “I don’t appreciate it when you use profanity around me.”
“Oh Ma, stop being such a fanatic about a little cursing,” Mike said. “You and dad curse at each other all the time when you’re having one of you frequent fights.”
“Married couples fight, Michael,” she said. “Grown ups don’t live in some fantasy world where no one ever fights. Stop being so infantile.”
“Infantile?” Mike said, laughing. “Where did you learn such a fancy word?”
Now it was his mother’s turn to laugh. “You better watch yourself, young man,” she said, “before I take you over my knee and spank you until your fanny turns bright red. Now be a dear boy, Michael, and bring your mother that bottle of Zinfandel over there.”
“Yes, mother,” Mike said.
Fandango has written this bit of silliness for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where we are tasked with using the word “fan” by itself or finding a word that starts or ends with it.
The small table fan did little to cool the air on that terribly hot and muggy summer day. Nick sat on his couch wearing only his underpants in a failed effort to keep cool.
His thoughts wandered to what happened the night before, when Anita told him that she just didn’t love him anymore. “You’re a dreamer, Nick,” she said. “You have all these big dreams, make all of these grandiose plans, but nothing ever comes of it. I need someone who is a realist, not a dreamer. I need someone who will actually make something of himself in the real world, not someone who just dreams about doing things in a make believe dreamscape.”
He’d seen movies, heard songs, and read poems about unrequited love, but he never imaged that he would be the victim of it. He was hurt and was trying to figure out if there was a way to salvage his relationship with Anita.
But Nick realized that there was little he could do. He was, and would always be, a dreamer and his dreams and Anita’s pragmatism were simply incompatible. Maybe someday he would meet the woman of his dreams. But today, his dream was limited to trying to stay cool on this hot summer day.
wrotten for today’s Three Things Challenge, where the words are fan, cool, and summer. Also for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge, “dreamer,” for the Ragtag Daily Prompt, “salvage,” and for the Word of the Day Challenge, “unrequited.” Photo credit: John Fornander at unsplash.com.
“Oh Lordy, it’s hot out here,” Maranda complained.
“Yes it is,” said Scarlet, “But it’s cooler out here on the veranda than it is inside the house.” She picked up a little bell on the small, round table between their chairs. As soon as she rang it, a black man in a white tuxedo appeared on the Veranda. “Ben,” Scarlet said. “Will you bring us two mint juleps.”
“Right away, Miss Scarlet,” Ben said.
“And see about getting that fan to work,” she added.
“That old fan ain’t worked since we got the house back after the yankee soldiers left.”
100 words)
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Image credit: Yarnspinnerr.
This, That, and the Other 